I took his word for that, since he obviously knew her better than I did.
He brushed my hair back from my face, and the light picked up those scars on his wrists. I caught his hand, bringing it to my lips. I kissed the inside of his wrist softly.
“Are you ever going to tell me what these are from?”
His eyes picked up a certain vulnerable glint that I was coming to recognize. It was going to be bad, though I had always assumed that the scars on his wrists were deep wounds.
“Spencer used sharp handcuffs. They cut me. It was one of the first things I noticed. These cuts on my wrists started appearing first. I hid them, because that’s a conspicuous and embarrassing place to have a cut, especially being fourteen, and feeling self-conscious of every little thing to begin with.”
“I can’t say if he used that kind of cuff to make me hold still, or if he just wanted to make me bleed. If he was trying to keep me from struggling, it didn’t work. If I could have cut my own hands off to get away from him, I swear I would have. I certainly tried.”
He let me trace those tiny scars, then kiss every inch of them, very carefully. Tears ran silently down my cheeks. I couldn’t hear what he was saying and not be affected by it.
He traced my tears with a soft finger. “It was about that time that I got real promiscuous. I didn’t go a day without hooking up indiscriminately. I wasn’t analyzing it back then, but I suppose I was trying to regain some control, since I’d lost so much of it. And it didn’t help that I was one giant hormone at the time. It all just sort of escalated, and by the time I was an adult, it didn’t get better. I preferred the most casual of hookups, so I almost always went out of my way to find women who were hot, but who I knew I wouldn’t feel bad leaving, which I guess would explain Jules and Jolene, though I didn’t stick exclusively to raging bitches.”
I had to hold back a comment about that one. He was talking now, and I wanted him to get it all out. The last thing I wanted to do was stop the flow of information.
“It was never straight vanilla for me, but the really kinky stuff developed over time. I knew that I liked things a little more off-color than the norm, and I was always pushing it a step further. At about the age when a normal kid was getting excited to drive his first car, I was running a worldwide hotel chain, obsessively learning to tie knots, and fucking every female in sight. I got better when I started going to therapy. I became more focused, more controlled, but that took time. Getting into the BDSM scene when I was eighteen helped a lot, too. There were rules there, and people that were willing to sort of mentor me about how to do it right, and I got the proper training.”
That was a bit of a shock to me, though perhaps it shouldn’t have been. I wasn’t experienced with the scene, but his control was so perfect that I should have assumed that he’d had some sort of training.
“That was when I met Frankie. She’s three years older than I am, and she knew her stuff. They don’t accept you into that scene until you’re eighteen, for obvious reasons, so the three years she had on me were three years of experience with BDSM. I hit on her at first, tried to turn her into a sub, and ya know, straight, but she laughed in my face. Even after that, though, she went out of her way to mentor me—to teach me the rules. In that community you aren’t even allowed to approach a woman until you’re properly vetted. To this day she’s one of my closest friends.”
“I was still indiscriminately promiscuous for years, but the BDSM was so much more satisfying for me, and eventually I went all in, but even my contracted subs were strictly a sexual thing. There’s an entrance to the fourth floor aside from my elevator, and most weren’t even allowed into my home outside of that floor. You can’t imagine what an anomaly you were for me, Bianca. Intimacy was unbearable to me before I set eyes on you. You’ve changed so many things for me, and I never dreamed that could be such a wonderful feeling. I feel like I’ve been brought to life, like I’m a real person now, instead of a pretender.”
I knew all too well how that felt. I doubted many people could have understood as perfectly as I did just what he meant by that.
“Yes,” I whispered, watching those exquisitely tarnished eyes. “I feel that way too. I know exactly what you mean.”
He gave me a desperate kind of look. “I know you do. I’ve told you from the start that we were made for each other, and I truly believe that. Things are going to be extra rough for a while, because of this video, and particularly with the press. I’m begging you, Bianca, please stick it out with me. Don’t withdraw, don’t take a break. Not even a little one.”
It stung a little that he didn’t trust me, but I knew that was my fault. My eyes and voice were steady. “I won’t, James. I’m staying. I love you.”
His face went a little slack, as though the words were still a shock to him. “Thank you. I love you, too. More than life, Bianca.”
I didn’t like that last part. It sounded too self-sacrificing, bringing to mind my dark nightmares of late.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Mr. Porn Star
We decided to work out, since we’d slept most of the day, and I was flying out early the next morning. The idea was to work off the excess energy that too long of a nap had given me.
I didn’t mind working out, but I took it easy, mostly sticking to a stationary bike and watching James as he worked over every piece of equipment in his large gym. He was a shirtless sight to behold as he strained himself. My jaw went completely slack as he did mouthwatering pull-ups, his shorts riding low. I thought I may have found a new reason to love hitting the gym.
He grinned at me as he moved to the free weights. “Keep looking at me like that if you want to get fucked on a stationary bike, Love.”
I didn’t have a problem with that, so I kept looking.
He watched me back in the room’s mirror-lined walls. I ran my eyes over his body. Even his calves were sexy, I thought. So long and lean, but with that hard play of muscle under the surface.
He set down his weights. “That’s it. Come here.”
I walked over to him without hesitation.
He led me to a spot in front of the mirror. He began to peel off my clothes without another word. I let him, watching our reflections as he bent over me. I loved the look on his face as he tended to me. It was so tender, and almost peaceful, as he took care of me.
When I was naked, he lifted my arms above my head. We were next to a piece of equipment and there was a bar above my head. It was adjustable, and he shifted it until I could reach it. “Grip it,” he told me.
I reached up to grip it. The movement pulled harshly at my tender breasts, but I didn’t say a word, because then he might stop…
He pressed into my back, watching me in the mirror. His hands ran over the front of my body as we watched our reflections. He cupped just the undersides of my breasts very carefully, but quickly released them. One hand moved down to cup my hip, and the other snaked down, along my ribs, past my naval, and into my sex. He fingered me, but stopped abruptly. He held his wet fingers up.
“You’re always wet for me. Always. I fucking love that,” he said roughly.
His shorts hit the floor, and he positioned himself against me from behind. He parted me with hard hands on the fronts of my thighs, pulling me back against him. I watched his knees bend then straighten as his cock disappeared inside of me.
“Oh God,” I gasped as he rammed into me.
I watched as he pulled out. It was a long, drawn-out process, my view superb on his massive arousal between my legs from behind.
“How’s your grip?” he asked, driving back into me.
I had to swallow to answer, my eyes still glued to his magnificent cock.
“Good,” I managed.
“Good. Look at me, Bianca. I’m going to fuck you really hard. I need you to tell me if your grip is slipping.”
I nodded, meeting his eyes.
He bit his lip and started hammering into me in earnest. I whimpered, loving the mixture of pleasure and pain as he fucked me so hard that it hurt. I craved this the most, I thought.
My grip started to slip at the end, and I told him breathlessly.
He barely paused. “Let go,” he told me, his hands moving to my hips. He pushed me close to the mirror, until my breasts were nearly touching the glass. He groaned at the sight.
“Hands on the mirror,” he told me, and I did. His hips slapped against me with the force of his thrusts.
My eyes stayed open, but went a bit fuzzy as I fell to pieces, clenching around him. “James,” I cried as I came.
He shuddered and groaned and buried himself to the hilt, his cock twitching inside of me as he came.
“So perfect,” he told me simply, kissing my shoulder.
My legs felt shaky as he pulled out of me, but his weren’t, and he swung me up into his arms.
“Shower time,” he told me with a smile.
“Um, shouldn’t we get dressed?” I asked.
The gym was on the second floor, and we’d have to walk down the hall, walk up the stairs, then walk down another hall, buck naked, just to get to our room.
His shoulder moved in a shrug. “I’ll walk fast,” he said.
I laughed.
Sure enough, Stephan spotted us as James was carrying me up the stairs.
“Um, hey,” he called from the first floor. “I take it you guys worked it out?”
We both laughed.
“Everything is perfect,” James told him, still walking up the stairs. I was sure that Stephan was getting a spectacular view of his ass.
“Clothes just get in the way, huh?” Stephan called back, laughing now.
“Yep,” James said. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Stephan said.
“Goodnight,” I said between helpless giggles.
We showered and there was food outside our door when we emerged. James fed me each bite, batting my hands away when I tried to grab the fork. It was some sort of vegetable soufflé. It was delicious, and I was starving, so I ate a huge portion before I waved him off.
He polished it off, putting the tray back outside the door.
He came back to the bed, pulling me against him. “Are you tired enough to sleep?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I slept too much today.”
His fingers snaked between my legs, fingering me. “Wanna fuck until we both pass out cold?” he asked with a grin.
I laughed. “You’re insatiable, and I’m sore.”
He pulled his fingers away, giving me a regretful look. He sighed. “Fine. We’ll find some clothes and go watch TV.
We wound up watching movies with Stephan for most of the night. The guys insisted that we watch Princess Bride again. James leaned into me at one point and whispered, “As you wish, Buttercup,” into my ear.
I shot him a look. I suddenly recalled that he’d said that to me before, a few times in fact, and what it meant in the context of the movie, but we’d only been seeing each other for a few days the first time that had happened…
“You’re insane,” I told him quietly.
He nodded, smiling. “Completely off my rocker,” he agreed.
