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The day before she took the pills, she’d called him in class again, telling him he’d regret it if he ignored her this time. He’d shown up at her apartment and the place had reeked of sex, booze, and cologne that wasn’t his. Two guys he’d never seen before had been passed out in her bed, naked. She’d been wildly apologetic, of course, but he’d heard the threat she was trying to convey. Leave me alone, and I’ll make you pay for it. Then she’d begged him to punish her for her transgressions—right there, with those two fucking guys sleeping in her bed.
In that moment, he’d realized he had become a pawn in some elaborate game he no longer wanted to play. He knew that something had tilted way off kilter within Mia and suspected that he had played a hand in it. He’d taken a fragile girl into a world of mindfucking, a world built only for the strong.
But he’d been so livid that night. He loved her and she’d fucked two strangers just to get attention. He couldn’t handle it, and he’d put an end to it right there. She’d grabbed at him, begged him not to leave, had told him she’d take whatever punishment he wanted to give her.
He’d pried her off him and had given her the punishment he knew would hurt her the worst—space.
Two days later he’d gone back to her apartment, worried that she hadn’t made any attempts to contact him. And he’d found her in bed, an empty pill bottle on the floor and a note tucked into it. There is no space for me in this world anymore.
Wyatt scrubbed his hands over his face as he lay in bed, the memory like a sack of rocks pressing on his chest. His brother was the only one who he’d ever told the whole story to. And Jace had told Wyatt that he wasn’t to blame, that Mia clearly had some underlying mental issues that led her to suicide. Logically, Wyatt recognized that, but in his heart he knew exactly what had pushed her over the edge. That note left no doubt. He should’ve never walked out and left her alone when she was in such a frantic state. Even if he’d wanted to end the relationship, it was his responsibility to make sure she was safe.
And he’d never ever wanted to take on that kind of responsibility for someone again. But these last few days with Kelsey had lit up old, shadowed parts inside him, showing him a glimpse of how D/s could feel when shared with someone who could handle herself. Kelsey worried that she was weak and vulnerable to her old addictions. But Wyatt saw nothing but strength within her.
The girl had fought her way out of a life that few ever escaped, had been raped and tortured, hunted by gang members. Yet each time, she’d picked herself up and moved forward, always with a goal in mind. Alcohol had been abundant on this trip so far, and she’d barely spared it a glance. Even today, she’d probably faced one of the most embarrassing situations anyone could think of when she’d walked into that group of women, yet she wasn’t curled in a ball crying about it. She’d simply moved forward again. Shake it off. Form a new plan. That seemed to be how she handled everything.
And that’s what made being with her so damn fantastic and different from anything he’d experienced before. She didn’t need him to be her caretaker. That heavy weight that had been constantly present in his and Mia’s relationship wasn’t there. Kelsey’s submission wasn’t a desire to give over responsibility of her life. Instead it was a mutual exchange between them. They both fed off each other. Balanced.
She didn’t need a hero to save her. She’d already saved herself. And maybe had even saved him. He hadn’t felt this happy and carefree since . . . well, ever, really.
But it was clear that she didn’t see that side of herself. She feared really feeling things. He could see it mar her afterglow every time they made love. The sex would open her up, and then the moment would cool and the guard rails would snap back in place. He’d let her get away with it because he’d promised he wouldn’t hurt her, wouldn’t give her the impression he could give her something he couldn’t. But his resolve on that front was about as strong as tinfoil now.
When Wyatt had seen her with Kade Vandergriff that first night, he’d been jealous and hadn’t liked the vision of his future without her in it. No, his life wasn’t set up for a girlfriend, but who the fuck created that jam-packed schedule? He did. Would the company fold if he ended his day at six instead of ten? Would the world stop spinning if he took a Saturday off? Obviously, no mushroom cloud had appeared in the distance when he’d stopped calling work earlier in the week.
Plus, he hadn’t felt this relaxed, this fucking good in longer than he could remember. And he knew that state had nothing to do with the beach vacation and everything to do with the blonde who’d snuck out of this bed a little while ago.
The girl who didn’t want to be caught.
He couldn’t bait Kelsey with a promise that if she let her walls down things would definitely work out, that this could actually become something. He didn’t have a crystal ball. The life they’d return to after this trip was much more complicated than lazy island days. But maybe there was some way he could show her that being open to the possibility was an option.r: Roni Loren
Then, as if he was determined to strip any shred of conscious control she may have left, his tongue was teasing at her soaked pussy and kissing her. Her clit pulsed against the vibrator and, without willing it to happen, her hips rocked against his mouth. He responded by thrusting his tongue inside her, his nose nudging and jostling the base of the plug.
“Holy shit.” She squeezed her eyes shut, the involuntary sounds she was making muffled in the thick pillows. Her skin felt as if she were wrapped in live wire, everything humming with energy, alive. This man was going to kill her.
Wyatt didn’t let up. He fucked her with his tongue, his own sexy grunts and groans providing her with a soundtrack she wouldn’t soon forget. This man didn’t simply go down on her, he fucking annihilated her. Never had she been with a man who seemed to relish giving pleasure with his mouth as much as he enjoyed receiving it. He turned it into a goddamned art.
Her fists balled in the sheets, the pressure building to nuclear meltdown level, and Wyatt’s fingers dug into her inner thighs, holding her in place, reminding her who was in control, who was unraveling her. The dam broke and a cry tore from her throat as everything went white behind her eyelids, pleasure crashing down around her.
Wyatt helped her ride the wave as long as possible, then flipped off the vibrator when her gasping cries softened. She sank forward in a boneless heap. After a quick trip to wash his hands, Wyatt quietly removed the harness, kissing each spot of skin the strap had reddened, and gave her a little swat, right at the center of her ass, rocking the plug and sending a sharp aftershock through her.
He ran a hand over the curve of her ass. “Does the plug hurt, love?”
“No,” she murmured, too tired to lift her head.
“Good. ’Cause it’s staying in for the nap.”
She mumbled some unintelligible string of syllables.
He sniffed. “Think you can nap now, love?”
“I’m already asleep.”
He laughed and slipped beneath the sheets with her, rolling her to her side and tucking her backside against him. Even in her totally satiated state, her sensors perked at the hard ridge of his erection rubbing against the curve of her bottom. “Good.”
“What about you?” she asked, reaching back and stroking the firm muscle in his thigh.
“Don’t worry about me, love. I’m going to get more than my share later. Get some sleep.”
She nestled into him, already feeling her thoughts drift and stretch toward sleep. “Thank you for getting my mind off what we have to face later.”
