9. – Miya
My soul felt displaced.
Or maybe it felt different.
Cast into the air around me, rearranged and organic. When it reentered my body, it felt shiny and brand new.
Or maybe my soul was too broken to tell the difference between shattered beyond repair, and so far gone to still hope. I tried to push the thought from my mind, the threat that we were still traversing across unstable territory, but like a pest, it entered my thinking process and tried to take the magic from my high.
I lay splayed in the snow. My bones were melted honey. My brain was soup. My heart was pounding love into my veins at such a quick rate, I felt lightheaded. It was cold all around us, but the cold didn’t touch me; it was hot and burning. My orgasm still rippled through me, like a memory that didn’t want to leave.
Jaxon lay on top of me, breathing hard into my neck. His cock twitched inside my body. He’d been so deep, so rough, so perfectly himself; I hugged my arms around him. And then my legs. “Again,” I whispered.
He grinned into my neck. He reached behind us, took my hands, interlaced our fingers, and then pinned my arms above my head into the snow. He jerked his hips and every shred of pleasure I still had in me returned tenfold. Each stroke up his hips was like a new orgasm. I could hardly stand it.
He held my gaze the entire time. The dark that usually resided in them wasn’t there. They were smooth brown, deep, and breathtaking. I made sure he saw what I was feeling. Raw, unfiltered ecstasy.
“You fuck me so good,” I moaned.
He groaned, speeding up his hips.
“I love your cock, Jaxon.” I slid my tongue over his lips and gasped when he gave it to me harder.
“I love you,” I moaned, pleasure pooling so deeply in my groin I saw black spots behind my eyes.
“Never leave me,” he grunted, his sweat dripping down his temple.
“Never,” I promised from the bottom of my heart.
Every single thrust of his hips was damaging. He hit every single starving part inside of me, rubbing and stroking them, until I was crying out once more. Pleasure flooded my body and I gave up, shaking and losing myself in this orgasm. But I didn’t feel lost. I felt like if we kept fighting, things would slide into place. Some way.
My pussy was as swollen as my lips when he finally pulled out of me. I reached down to cup myself, smiling lethargically.
“I love you,” he growled, pressing a sloppy kiss to the side of my face. His ragged breath fanned across my cheek. “Tell me you know that.”
“I know you love me.”
“Again.”
“You love me, and I know it.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to hear it again.”
I giggled. “There’s someone who loves me, and it’s you, and I know it.”
He gave me a chuckle, and his hand reached out to find my hand. He threaded our fingers together. “Get dressed. You’re freezing.”
I tripped and stumbled my way back into my clothes. I tried to button my coat, and then sighed. It was no point. All my buttons lay in the snow. I shivered as we jogged through the trail. We’d been out there long enough for the sun to start to set. It was almost eight that night when we made it back into his Lexus. He cranked the heater up.
When we drove by a for sale sign on a house, he turned to me. “It would be easier to move than it would be to try living in that house.”
I wasn’t ready to move just yet. I loved his house. It was secluded and special. A fairytale hideout in the forest. “Maybe.”
“Unless you’d rather stay. I loved the house when I bought it. There’s just so much baggage in there. You’re not the only submissive I had there,” he reminded me.
I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth before I said something mean. “It’s not really up to me. I’m unemployed.”
“Sure, it is. I want to make you happy.” He took my hand. “You want to do something else?”
“Food. Sex. What else is there?”
He smirked. “Let’s do something crazy.”
“Like what?” A grin slowly overtook my lips. “Talk loudly in the library?”
He faked gasping. “I’m not that brave. The librarian might spank me with her ruler.”
I snorted. “You’d like it.”
He guffawed. “You’re probably right.” And then he said, “Do regular boyfriends spank their girlfriends?” He jutted his lower lip out and appeared innocent.
I did too but shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re my only boyfriend.”
“I think they do. Maybe not as hard, but kinky sex can still be normal. You know any Normal’s we could ask?”
“Nope. Sorry. I only hang out with sex freaks like you.” I squirmed in my seat. “I think my butt has frost bite.”
The sound of his deep laugh was a special music note I’d never heard played before. A unique chord only my heart appreciated. I wanted to hear it again and again. Play it on repeat until it was stuck in my head forever.
“I’ll take care of your frosty ass later. I don’t want to stop the momentum,” he revealed, smile fading like he’d only given me one because he thought that’s what I wanted. The same way I let him spank me. Maybe our problem lay more in trying to be something we weren’t; I felt deflated. “If we stop, and look around, and my mind realizes I’ve turned my back to it, it will fuck this up. Think of something we could do together, Miya. Before we explode.”
It was still early. It wasn’t too late and if we were different people, the options would be endless. I spied a group of women closer to my age, their dresses short in the cold, their breaths haloed by laughter. They looked like they’re heading somewhere fun; I spied the overhead sign for a bar called Bottomless, my suspicions confirmed.
I’m reminded, yet again, that I’m only nineteen, dating a much older man. I’m demanding things from him, and he’s coaxing things out of me. We make so much sense together. In my soul, in my heart. On paper, we don’t add up. I don’t need that paper then. I only need the one with our initials scrawled on it and his rough words. “I don’t want to be a sexual Dominant anymore.”
“What would you be doing when you were my age?”
It’s the wrong question to ask.
He glared at the road. “Suffocating on Vega’s pussy.”
I blow out a breath, glaring. “Forget I asked.”
As if the powers between lust and detriment opened and joined forces for a moment, his cell phone rang, offering us a way out. He dug his phone from his back pocket and peered at the caller with disdain.
I knew who it was before he even answered. Only one man put that confused bitter look on his face.
“What do you want, Samuel?”
My ears pricked. I missed him. I listened intently.
Jaxon slowed the car at a red light and peered over at me briefly. “She’s right here. Interesting…” He answered Sam’s unknown question with reluctance. I wondered how much he knew. Probably everything.
Jaxon had few friends, and maybe that wasn’t what Sam was, but at some point, when he needed advice he always turned to Master Samuel.
“Neither of us are in the mood,” he grumbled, and then listened before blowing out a stream of angered breath. “Fine. We’ll be there in thirty.” He hung up without saying goodbye.
“What did he want?” I asked.
“He invited us to dinner at his place.” His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “You’re not my sub anymore, Miya. You can do whatever you want.” He cringed, as if that fact made his entire body ache. “But I promise you, if you go down to his dungeon, I will cane you until you’re permanently damaged.”
I picked apart his words for what they were. Trepidation and fear. The last time we’d been to Sam’s, we’d broken every cardinal sin in one night. And Mistress Vega had been there. “Why did he invite us to dinner?” What did Sam have up his sleeve? We’d said our goodbyes to each other. He knew I loved Jaxon.
He peered out the window. “He’s interviewing possible subs. He wants you and I to act as an example.”
I sat back in my seat, holding my hands on my lap. “Jaxon,” I warned, my bottom lip quivering.
Not again, a little voice whispered helplessly. And then it whispered, run. I ignored it, mostly because I didn’t want to ignore it.
“I’ll talk to him when we get there,” he promised. “The women aren’t supposed to arrive until after dinner.”
“Will Vega be there?”
He frowned. “I don’t think so. Having her there last time was my idea.”
Of course, it was. Why couldn’t that bitch crawl back under the rock she’d surfaced from?
He tapped out a text I didn’t bother to ask about. A minute later, he said, “No Vega, baby.”
I marginally relaxed. But only a tiny bit. We were going to Samuel’s, and nothing good could come of that. Nothing. His familiar mansion came into view. I couldn’t wait to see him at the same time I wanted to run away into the night. The large gate out front was open. Jaxon drove through and I spotted that there were only two cars parked in the ornate driveway. Both expensive. We got out and made our way—not touching; I was pissed—through the stone walkway to his front door.
I was surprised when Nina opened the door. She worked for him. I wasn’t sure in what capacity. Maybe his housekeeper/motherly figure. She smiled wide when she saw me. “Miya,” she crooned pulling me into a hug I desperately needed.
I wrapped my arms around her and inhaled the scent of coffee and lavender on her skin. She was middle-aged, with a kind, knowing wrinkle between her brows that shoved through bullshit for the truth with alarming accuracy. Her blonde hair was in a pony tail and her familiar black uniform made her look both capable and approachable. I didn’t know why the sight of her made me feel like I was missing something.
Some integral part of being a woman. Some wispy piece of my being felt like it desperately needed to find herself.
But where?
“Mr. Damon,” she greeted, not moving to touch him. Her tone was cold and unimpressed with Jaxon.
He put his hands in his pockets and quirked a brow at her. “It’s nice to see you again, Nina.”
“Hmm,” she grunted, taking my hand. “Can’t say the same. Anyway, dinner will be ready in ten minutes. We’re having filet minion, roasted potatoes, and bacon wrapped green beans. Can I get you anything to drink? Wine?” She was only looking at me as she led me through the living room and to the bar.
I hid my smile by biting my top lip and nodded. “Please.”
Jaxon struggled with addiction. I didn’t blame him. He had an empty void in him. He tried to fill it with anything he could get his hands on. Anything to numb the darkness and make it more tolerable. He once told me his drink limit was two. “I’m a miserable drunk. Miserable and angry.”
I was shocked when I heard him say, “I’ll take an Old Fashioned, Nina. Thanks for asking.”
He hadn’t done anything wrong by ordering a drink. We’d shared drinks together before. But it felt different when he said it before. He hadn’t requested the drink. The drink had requested him. Why was he drowning out his darkness when things were supposed to be better between us?
Weren’t they?
A pit formed in my stomach.
Nina grunted again and ducked behind the bar in Samuel’s expansive living room. The last time I’d been there played in my mind. On my knees, cavities filled, the word slut swirling in my mind; many sordid firsts had transpired in this mansion. I wondered, not for the first time, about Sam’s degradation kink. What made him degrade the same thing he craved pleasure from?
It made me sad for him. All of us would eventually hit that low point. We’d all end up in the dark in our own basement and have to make a choice. I just hoped he made the right one.
“I didn’t ask, because I don’t like you, Mr. Damon.” Nina popped the top on a bottle of chilled white wine and poured a thick stream into a long-stemmed glass.
Nina was my spirit animal. Brave. Immune to Jaxon’s looks. His power. I was none of those things. I was quite susceptible to his beauty. And all the things he did with it.
“Nina,” someone warned, and I turned to find Samuel Carter entering the room.
It was stupid, but I got butterflies. The moment our eyes locked, I saw everything we’d done together play in his clear blue eyes. He was dressed in a navy dress shirt, and tan slacks. Everything he wore was tailored perfectly to his tall muscled frame. His whiskey-toned hair was slick back and off his face. I didn’t feel lust when I looked at him. I didn’t feel want. I felt a bond. Something that only him and I understood. It felt safe and tender. It felt special.
His lips lifted in the corner. “My Sweet,” he said, warmth in every syllable.
It was the second time tonight where I cherished a hug from someone other than Jaxon. He pressed his lips over my ear. “You want to talk?”
For once, I didn’t have to look to Jaxon for his confirmation. “Please,” I whispered back.
“After dinner?” he checked.
I kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Master Sam.”
He winked. “Be careful.” He tapped his temple. “I’ve got a long memory, My Sweet.”
I blushed and looked away. Jaxon was leaning against the bar, inky hair thick and tousled from my fingers. His feet were crossed, and his elbow was on the bar. His dark eyes found mine over the top of his glass, filled half-way with his rich amber liquid. He drank it down to the bottom, eyes watching me the entire time. “Keep ‘em coming, Nina.” He slammed the empty glass down.
“Are you sure you should be drinking?” Sam asked, not hiding his judgement.
Jaxon gave him a cocky grin. “Why not? My entire life is falling down around me. The only woman I love is blushing at another man after spending the night taking every inch of me. She’s only here because she hasn’t figured out she can leave. Like a dog who doesn’t realize their leash is lying on the ground.”
Everyone paused, froze, and then turned to stare at him. I, on the other hand, took the glass of wine on the bar waiting for me and downed it.
He was wrong. He wasn’t my leash.
Love was.
“I’ll handle things from here,” Sam said to Nina, who looked all too pleased to leave.
She gave my arm a pat before leaving me with them. Traitor.
“What is he talking about?” Sam asked, crossing his arms over his chest and eyeing both Jaxon and I like we were disappointing him in every way.
Jaxon sighed so tiredly I felt sad. “What am I talking about, Miya?” he asked softly.
I looked to Sam for some sort of relief. He was none. “He’s no longer my dominant.”
His eyes widened in disbelief and he laughed, like I told him I was going to become a circus clown. “What do you mean? He’s no longer your dominant?”
“I’m going to buy her a minivan,” Jaxon explained, reaching over the bar to grab the whiskey bottle. He poured his glass full.
I didn’t know what that meant, but Sam seemed to know. He looked taken aback. “No shit,” he mumbled, blowing out a breath of shock. “Well, that’s… interesting. I take it going back in time didn’t work?”
I shook my head.
“Why not, My Sweet?” he questioned gently.
I bit back my tears. “I don’t want to hurt to love him anymore.” I fought my tears. “He wants to hurt me. I want to heal him. For every scab I give him, he gives me a fresh wound.”
Sam ran his fingers through his whiskey hair. “Let’s go sit at the kitchen table and talk. Come on.” He took Jaxon’s hand, and then mine, and then the only person in charge brought us to the dining room.
The table was set, the food was hot. We took our places. Jaxon and I together. Sam across from us. We made our plates, took a bite, and then Sam set down his fork.
“This is your fault,” he stated.
I paused, finding that he was looking right at me. “Mine? How is this my fault?”
“Because you’re an innocent angel trying to play with demons. You come in here, ruffle your feathers, take us under your spell, and then we’re left with cleaning up the fallen feathers as our dark soul’s sob. You tempted a demon, Miya, and now you’re blaming him for biting you. For toying with you. For doing what demons do. Do you think it’s easy for Jaxon to stop? No easier than it was for you to start. There’s no going back. There’s no going forward. He is a sexual Dominant. You are an angel with scars and innocence. What the hell are you two doing together?” He slammed his fist into the table.
I jumped.
Jaxon took a drink.
Sam pointed his finger at us both but stopped at me. “What do you want. Tell him. Every single thing, even if you think you can’t have it.”
I swallowed hard, peering through my hair to find Jaxon’s beautiful brown eyes on me. I looked at my place. “I want… I want him.”
“That’s not good enough. You have him. I mean what do you want from him?”
“I want him to love me. I want him to leave Vega in the past. I want him to let me breathe. I want him to know that I love him, and that—” I broke down without warning. “I want him to be normal. I want to be normal. I want my childhood back. I want his childhood back. I want to skip rope and eat ice cream on the street. I wanted him to have been hugged and loved. I want us to not have been abused. I want us to know only love. I want things not to be so fucked up. I love everything we do together, but the crass orders. The control overshadows everything. I want him to fuck me hard. I want him to fuck me soft. I want him to spank me. I want him to kiss me. I like kinky sex. I like making love to him. I don’t like it when I say something good and he turns it into something bad. I want to be his age. I want him to be my age. I want to have his kids. And to take his last name. I want to be someone else!” I wailed, shaking uncontrollably and sobbing into my plate.
Jaxon pulled my seat over and then grappled, fighting with me. I didn’t know why I hit him. Maybe I’m not hitting him. Maybe I’m hitting the boy who molested me. The men who didn’t love me. The people who never wanted me. Hitting myself for falling in love with a man who was as fucked up as me. For loving him that much more because he’s the only person who understands what it’s like in my head. The only person brave enough to fold me on his lap and wrap me in his arms, and sob with me.