He left me in the room last night, alone, in tears, and in pain. Not physical, but emotional. I was more than a mess and I know I’d never been hurt like that before. Even when I was younger, when my life had changed for the worst, and I was forced by the one person I trusted to do things I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Nothing could have prepared me for this, for the agony of heartbreak. For the agony of having your heart and soul ripped from you in a moment of passion, and allowing the person to walk out with it.

It was the first time I’d ever felt like nothing. Like the slut he called me. As I walk into Sins today, I make my way straight to the bar. Dylan glances up, offering me a smile and I feign one back. Nobody besides Carrick knows what happened between Nate and I, and I don’t intend to tell them. When I slip onto the stool, Dylan sets a shot glass down in front of me without saying a word, and beside it, he places a bottle of Gran Patron Platinum. A bottle going for almost two-hundred dollars. I grab it and pour a shot.

“I don’t have money,” I tell Dylan after I down the shot, wincing at the burn that follows as the liquid travels down my throat. I revel in it. The physical pain will quell the emotional shit going on in my head.

“It’s on Carrick. He told me to give you the bottle and for you to meet him in his office.” I should’ve known he’d do that. The man is a bad influence on me, he’s also my best friend. Although, getting me drunk could only mean one of two things—he’s either trying to ease the pain, or he’s going to give me pain.

I opt for the second option because right now a good harsh spanking would work wonders. I’ve been numb since last night when Nathan left. Nothing’s felt right. I haven’t cried, I haven’t even thought about being on my own. Perhaps I’m in denial. Not wanting it to be true, but deep down knowing that it’s done.

Grabbing my gift, I nod and head toward the staircase that leads to the offices of Mason and Carrick. The two owners of Seven Sins. Both handsome, both intensely charming, and both incredibly talented Dominants.

When I reach the dark wooden door, I knock once and wait.

“Come in,” his seductive tone comes from the other side a moment later. Pushing open the door, I step into the inner sanctum of sex and shut the door behind me. Carrick’s office is his playroom. With toys adorning one wall along with a dresser which hides his kinkier gems. There’s also a spanking bench in the corner which I’m sure has seen many beautiful women bound to it. A large mahogany desk faces the club downstairs, through the wall of two-sided glass. There’s a bar just across from where he’s seated with a selection of the finest wines, brandies, and whiskies. The dim lighting and amount of leather in the room would make you think you’ve walked into a BDSM lair, and I suppose to Carrick it is. This is the perfect place to get lost.

“Thank you for the drink,” I lift the bottle. His eyes, the color of honey, watch me, they roam over every inch of me, causing my blood to heat. The mix of alcohol and Carrick was always my downfall.

He doesn’t respond, merely steeples his fingers in front of his chiseled face as he regards me with curiosity. The smooth tanned skin of his face and hands match that of his hairless sculpted chest. His tattoos are hidden by a white designer button up shirt. Dark messy hair sits atop his head, and those deep golden eyes pin me to the spot.

 “I didn’t think you’d try to get me drunk,” I continue, dropping my gaze from his and making my way to the counter. Once I’ve found a small shot glass behind the bar, I fill it, and down another gulp of the strong alcohol. Patron is my choice of drink, especially when I need to forget.

He rises, still silent with the air of a predator, strolling over to me. Dressed in only his shirt and a pair of dark gray slacks, he looks ever the businessman, not the Dominant I know he is. Different to Nate, I know Carrick’s needs, the control he holds onto so tightly is the only thing that I know he enjoys. He wields it like a blade, taking out his opponent—who is in this case, me—in one swoop. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, giving me a peek at the ink that adorns his left arm.

When he finally reaches me, he’s still said nothing. Instead, he grabs my glass, fills it and downs the shot in one long gulp. I watch his throat work as he swallows, his Adam’s Apple bobs up and down. He doesn’t react, doesn’t even wince at the harshness of the drink.

“I’ve always warned you never to love a man like me.” Those are the first words he ever said to me when he’d finally lost all restraint with me one night. I was sixteen. He took my virginity when I sat on the hood of his car and opened my legs for him. I was in pain, I wanted him to take it away. The thing that most girl’s hold as a prize, I gave away like it was a broken toy.

Where he found me, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. My past was ugly, still is. My future isn’t much brighter though. He’d walked into hell and stole me away. I had hearts in my eyes when he saved me. When he showed me that princes were real and they do slay the dragon, only Carrick didn’t kill, he merely set two rules down on the table. If they were to come near me again, he’d have his people take care of them. And if any were to threaten me, even if it was from afar, he’d make sure they never saw the light of day again.

Even though I don’t know much about him, about his past, I realized that night, there was something innately dangerous about the man who saved my life.

“Why, Eva?” he asks. He’s genuinely curious, tipping his head to the side, watching me. I wish I could tell him what he wants to know, but I can’t. I don’t even know why I love Nate. Loved. Past tense.

“I want to forget, Carrick. Please, don’t ask me to remember him. What we had.” He sighs at me, he’s disappointed. So am I. “There’s only so much I can take right now and having you angry with me isn’t one of those things,” I tell him honestly. My rock. My sounding board through the life in this place, in this lifestyle and world where I find that emotions can not only hurt you, but turn you into someone you don’t recognize.

“Why did you come up here, Eva? You know what I want.”

“You asked me to meet you in your office,” I sass him with my response. I’m hoping to taunt him, to make him want to spank me, but I know it will take a lot more than that. When I finally look into his honey-colored eyes, they’re swirling with desire. “I want to play.” The words fall from my lips with raw, pained honesty.

“I’m not taking you the day after the man you love walked out on you,” he bites out. He’s not angry at me, he’s angry at himself. I watch him run his hand over the stubble on his jaw. He’s the opposite of Nathan. In the dark, they both love the same world, but in the light of day, they couldn’t be more different if they tried. And I wonder how they even know each other.

“Why? Are you scared? You’re the only one who knows what I need right now.” I tell him. I am single. He doesn’t have to worry about Nate anymore. There’s always been this underlying tension between us. I’ve never been in a real scene with him. Maybe tonight he’ll help me forget.

“Eva, you don’t know what you’re asking,” he warns. As always, he wants what’s best for me. I don’t. I need the pain to stop.

“I do. Carrick,” I breathe. It’s not seductive, it’s pained. “Please just make the pain go away.” This time, the pleading in my tone makes him narrow his eyes as he regards me warily for a long while. Perhaps he’s waiting for me to change my mind. But I won’t. We’re in a stand-off. I want him, he wants me, but there’s an elephant in the room and it’s my love for Nate. He knows it, and so do I.

“Strip. Down to your heels. Nothing else,” he commands with the harshness I’ve been craving. Turning, he heads to the wall of toys that taunt me from their position.

Immediately, I slip the black dress I’m wearing down, it pools at my feet in a puddle of soft silk. Next, I step out of my panties and unclasp my bra. Once I’m naked, I pour another shot of tequila and down it immediately.

When I turn around, I’m met with the molten gaze of my knight in his Armani slacks, and a shirt that probably cost more than my damn apartment. Brutal, beautiful, and utterly enamored with me. The air is thick with lust. There’s no love here, there’s only the dark, sinful temptation of a man I shouldn’t be with.

“Sit on my desk, lean back. Get those pretty red heels on the desk and spread your legs.” The order is laden with his hunger. I stalk over to the mahogany desk that’s empty except for his laptop that sits on the far end which is now closed. No more work tonight. For the rest of the evening, he’ll have to be there for me. Allow me to cry, offer me physical release with the leather crop in his hands.

The desk is large with enough space for him to play. I settle back, leaning on my elbows. I lift my feet and set my heels on the edge. My legs spread lewdly for him. His honey-colored orbs turn to chestnut, and darker still as they roam over my curves, my smooth skin, and find my glistening core. In his hand, he grips the crop so tightly his knuckles turn white. I don’t miss the small, infinitesimal smile that lifts his full lips. They’re pink, soft, and in the shape of a Cupid’s bow.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen such a perfect woman. Elegant, sexy, and downright sinful,” he murmurs reverently. That’s when he offers me a full-on panty-melting smirk. One that would have most women kneeling for anything he’s wanting to give. A curve on his lips is more intoxicating than the Patron I’d swallowed. “Are you sure you want this, Eva?”

I nod. I can’t find the words. As much as I know that’s what he needs from me, to hear my agreement, I can’t give it to him.

He raises the small leather crop and brings it down hard on my mound. The sting sends me into orbit. My head drops back and I cry out his name. There’s one thing I know about Carrick better than any other sub in this place, and that is he loves to hear his name being cried out in pain, or pleasure.

“Such a pretty cunt. I want to hurt it. You like when I hurt you. Don’t you, Eva?” he questions once more, his voice thick and raspy. His gaze is locked on me, almost as if he needs to look at me to continue, to hold onto all his restraint.

“Yes, Carrick.” I don’t call him Sir because he doesn’t own me. This isn’t a Dom and sub, Master and slave, this is me and the man who stole my virginity when I offered it to him on a silver Mercedes Benz.

He brings the leather down, again and again, marking my body with it. The red welts rise on my smooth, tender skin. My clit throbs with need for this man. For him to take the ache in my chest and fuck it away.

“Carrick, please?” I plead like a wanton slut. He halts all movements. His gaze penetrates me deeper than his cock ever could. Not because he’s not well-endowed in the area, quite the opposite, but because he looks into my soul. He sees my pain. Like it’s a living breathing entity between us. He understands, but there’s one thing I know for certain about Carrick Anderson, and that is he will not fuck me. He knows my heart is filled with love for someone else. He’ll whip me, spank me, hurt me, but he’ll never give me anything more than that.

“Let’s get a few things clear, Eva. Yes, I want to fuck you, perhaps more than any other woman in this fucking place.” He gestures to the window, to the club below us. “But if I ever get the chance again, to shove my dick into your tight little cunt, it will be because you want me, not because I’m your source of relief from the ache of your heartbreak.” Even though I expected it, his words are a blow to me. They slam into my chest, intensifying the ache that’s so fresh.

I drop my legs, shutting myself off from him. He sees it immediately.

“Bend over my desk,” he grunts, but I ignore the order, grabbing the dress I left on the floor. “Now.” One word rumbled in that tone is all I need. I stalk over to his desk and bend at the waist, my naked breasts squashed on the wooden top. My hands grip the edges, knowing that something is coming. His foot kicks both mine apart, and once again, I’m open to him. “If you move, I’ll make it hurt even worse than when I took your virginity,” he promises.

I hear clicking, shuffling. I can’t see what he’s doing but the anticipation is too much. Then I hear the whoosh of thick leather. His belt. The burn catapults me into a dark abyss. The sting on my ass feels like he’s just set my flesh alight. As if there’s flames licking their way over the globes of my ass, he whips me, over and over again.

I raise up onto my toes with each lash. Tears stream from my eyes, but in the pain, I find solace for a moment. The agony that was gripping my chest in its vile claws release me into the space I need to feel at ease. To let go of Nate and to just be me.

When I hear the loud clank of the buckle falling to the floor, I sigh. Even though I want to, I don’t move. Then his hands are on me. Massaging the cooling balm into the welts. His touch is gentle, a vast contrast to the way he just violently whipped me.

“You took twelve. It’s a lot.” His remark makes me smile through the discomfort. There’s pride in his tone and I feel like I’ve done something right, for the first time in months. The burning sensation on my ass eases slightly from his attention, then he helps me up, offers me my dress which I slink into.

He hands me a shot glass filled to the brim which I accept gratefully.

“You need to rest. Go to my apartment, take two aspirin, and sleep. I’ll be up in three hours.” The keys he holds out to me are to the top floor of the building. Mason and Carrick both own penthouses above the club, but Carrick is the only one who stays here. I don’t thank him. I don’t respond because I don’t need to. I take the keys and make my way to the door. Before I step out, he murmurs under his breath. “Fucking asshole.” And I know he’s feeling guilty for what he’s just done.