Page 58 of Finally, His

Her chin wobbled, a sheen of tears forming in her eyes.

He twisted her other nipple, and she winced. “Do you?”

“Y-yes, sir.” She blinked at him, a single tear escaping her sad eyes.

“Then, give it to me. All of it. It’s my pain now. Not yours.”

A stuttered breath left her throat. “I don’t want you to have it. No one should.”

Finally, an opening. “Tell me again. What is the worst thing he ever did to you?”

She shuddered from head to toe.“You know,” she whined.

He did. How he’d handed her over to other men to be toyed with, played with. Then told her she didn’t deservethem. What a crock of psychological shit.

And it’d all been recorded. He’d never told her he’d seen the video evidence—grainy footage taken on an early iPad. A device and the ensuing recordings he constantly had to force himself to remember had been thoroughly destroyed by Marcos last year. But it appeared images from one’s own mind didn’t fade so easily.

Richard captured her lips with his own. No more words. He kissed her gently until that tiny rumble in the back of her throat sounded. It was the signal of her surrender—a giving into what he had planned, even if she didn’t know what that was.

When he broke his lip lock, her head wobbled a bit, her eyes a little drugged.

He glanced over at Carson, the one Dominant in the room he believed would understand what he needed to do. She had to recast that final piece if they were ever to find peace together. There was one thing he hadn’t tried with her—and it was time.

He put a little distance between himself and Charlotte. “Carson.”

The man nodded once and stepped forward.

Charlotte shivered at the zing of leather running through belt loops. The sound always had that effect on her. Sometimes her response was fear. Sometimes anticipation. Except, when Carson removed his belt and handed it to Richard, her belly hollowed out. Nothing inside her came up.

Wayne Trembill had changed her long ago. She hadn’t seen him for over two years, yet the ingrained pattern of his damage remained. First, indignation arose. Then fear. Then … emptiness. With a snap of his fingers, he could turn her into a shell.

Richard’s large hand clasped over the belt in Carson’s outstretched hand.

Carson didn’t let go of it. One side of his mouth inched up. “This is a Forzieri. Italian leather.”

“Of course it is.” Richard’s face remained unreadable.

Carson sliced his eyes her way. “So, make it good.” He dropped his hold, stepped backward, and nodded once.

More sounds slipped through a growing haze. The scrape of a chair that Sarah brought over to her Master. With a thunk, it settled upright, and she gave Charlotte a small smile. A bit of encouragement, perhaps?

Derek dragged over two chairs, the screech of their legs on the tile echoing against the high ceilings of the chamber. Derek straddled one backward and tipped it forward, his face as serious as a funeral.

Carson took the other, swinging it so he could face her. He settled himself, adjusting his jacket, then swung his foot over a knee. Casual, like he was watching a football game.

Alexander remained standing behind them. His face was as still as ever, his eyes as blue as a glacial lake boring down on her.

Richard’s hand grasped her chin and yanked her gaze to him. “So. You believe Wayne has something over me?”

What? “No. I—”

“No? One look at him, and you still believe he could harm you? Get in our way?”

Finally, something broke through the nothingness. Shame, and it spread to every corner of her body. “I …” She couldn’t finish the sentence because the answer would have been ”yes.”

Men’s shouting broke through the blood rushing in her ears. Marcos sauntered in, dragging Wayne inside by the lapels. But at least they were alone. His two goons were gone.

Wayne sported a bruised cheek, the smug look gone. “Unhand me.” Spluttering, eyes furious, face red, Wayne still felt he could do something? With those men surrounding him? Unlikely, her brain delivered. But that rising ache between her legs? Vanished.

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