Page 36 of Torment

Tension drained from my body as he spoke, his hands still tracing oily circles on my tender skin. “So you believe me now?” I asked timidly. “When I say I’m sorry?”

“I’m trying.”

That was better than nothing.

I studied his face, searching for a red flag, anything that would tell me he was lying and playing games with me. Insincerity in his eyes. A twitching brow. His cheek jumping.

I saw nothing but calm neutrality.

I imagined kissing him like I did so long ago. I imagined him kissing me back, too, and then I felt it again, welling up inside me, the kind of desire I could drown myself in. I closed my eyes, feeling the heat in my cheeks as I tried to push the illicit feelings aside.

“I still remember it all, you know,” Mason said, hands traveling over my shoulders, past the thin straps of the lacy black bra I’d chosen to wear today. “I remember every inch of you.”

His fingers moved lower, finding a sensitive spot on my left side, just above the M he’d carved into me. I squirmed as he gently rubbed the spot, trying not to giggle. For some reason, that was always the most ticklish place on my front.

“I remember what you like,” Mason went on, one hand traveling up to my neck. His short nails traced a delicate spiral pattern on the sensitive skin there, making me shiver. “Every little thing.”

My eyes drifted back to him, drinking in the sight of his muscular arms and silvery scars. My mouth almost watered as my core throbbed and my nipples stiffened into peaks under the thin fabric of my bra. He was rugged male perfection; so dangerous to touch or be near.

I drew in a deep, shaky breath. My old feelings had lurked beneath the surface for so long, and now I knew for sure that they never left, not one bit, no matter how much I tried to tamp them down or pretend they weren’t there.

I wasn’t talking about my desire, either.

This was much more than that. Beyond lust. Despite the terrible things he’d done to me, my old love for Mason still burned brightly and undeniably after all this time. I couldn’t ignore its existence any longer.

No wonder I’d drifted around like a zombie for so long. All these years, I was missing a piece of myself.

Mason’s dark eyes surveyed me from top to bottom, along my every curve, like an artist gazing upon his muse. I wasn’t naked, but I certainly felt like it. I sat up and turned to face him properly. With slow and tentative movements, I reached out to stroke the scar on his face. “You’re still perfect,” I whispered.

“So are you.” His eyes burned into me with their smoldering intensity. “You look exactly like you used to.”

As I traced the scar from his temple to his jaw with my index finger, I felt him twitch slightly under my touch. I shivered at the same time. I wanted to kiss him, but I didn’t want to make the first move. I wanted him to do it first, because that way I would know I wasn’t just imagining all of this.

Finally, he leaned forward and kissed me, softly pressing his lips to mine as one hand slid under my chin, tilting it upward. In that moment, the sky could rain fire on us and I wouldn’t even notice. Nothing could distract me from this.

I kissed Mason back, tasting mint and cinnamon on his tongue. His mouth was a fiery brand, and with every passing second, our kiss grew more frenzied, like this was it; the last kiss we’d ever have.

My sexual hunger grew and grew, roaring for release. I wanted Mason so badly I ached, my whole body an agonizing pulse of needy desire. I needed to take him inside me, feel him move within me.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I remember everything you like,” he muttered by my ear, tearing his lips away from mine for a second. “Let me prove it.”

“Okay,” I said breathlessly.

I thought he would take me right then and there, but instead he pulled away and stood up, holding one hand out to me. “Come with me.”

I followed him, and to my horror, I realized he was leading me to the room with the red door. “Please, no,” I whispered, freezing in my tracks. My knees were weak, threatening to give way beneath me.

Mason rubbed my shoulder encouragingly. “It wasn’t all bad in the Penance Rooms,” he murmured, lips closing over my ear again. “Remember?”

I nodded and took a few more shaky steps forward, letting him guide me.

When I was in the stone-walled room, I let him march me over to the wall with the restraints. In one swift move he seized my wrists and pinned them above my head, restraining them in the metallic cuffs. He pinched my right nipple, mouth close to my face again.

“You liked this, didn’t you?” he growled.

“Yes,” I said breathily. I’d always loved surrendering to the dark and deviant kind of pain Mason brought me at New Eden. He wasn’t like the other men there. He didn’t want to hurt me for sport. He wanted me to surrender to him, submit to his every whim, and he wanted me to enjoy every second of it.

When he pinched my other nipple, I closed my eyes and moaned. My body felt boneless, weakened by desire. I needed Mason to touch me again. Pinch me, grope me, slap me. I was completely consumed by him; his kiss, his smell, his taste.

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