Forgiving Gia (Rocker Series Book 2) (9 page)

A smile curved on his gorgeous face. Then he turned and headed for the closet. I sat up on my elbows, trying to listen. I heard a jingle-bell, something buzzing before it was turned off, and then a snap. I jumped. Oh, fuck no! As he turned his face, I saw it was less than kind. My eyes immediately went to his hands. A flogger, a bell, anal-plug, and a vibrator.

My breath caught. My eyes stayed on his. One breath in…one long breath out. Yep, way too smart to get one over on him. I made the mistake of lying. I just had to accept my punishment like a good girl.

“Clothes off, now…slowly,” he instructed as he stalked toward me.

I nodded, springing to action. A sheer sweat blanketed my body like a fever. I waited naked in front of him for his next command. Eyes down. No need to poke the Alpha. It was not playtime. I was going to get my ass handed to me—literally.

“Bring that fresh mouth over here, Gia.”

Uh-oh. “Yes, Sir.” I approached him, cautiously waiting.

Abel nodded. No words. Only silent movements.

He knelt on the bed. “You know the drill. Ass up. Face down.”

I nodded; I understood. Boy, did I ever. I laid my upper body astride his thighs with my ass perfectly perched for him and waited.

“Spread your legs as far as you can. When you feel that you can’t spread them any more, arch for me, love.” His statement ended with a swat of his hand across my ass.
Swat
.

My eyes closed in sweet agony. I opened wide for him. It wasn’t very comfortable as I stretched and leaned myself over his legs. But then again, it wasn’t supposed to be easy, either. I arched my back, bringing my ass high and spreading my legs wide.

First, he worked his fingers in. I was sopping wet; the sounds were echoing off the walls and heightening my arousal. No need to ask where his arousal was. It was poking me in the belly. It was beyond embarrassing how my pussy ached for him. His fingers. His touch. His cock. After working in four fingers and scissoring them against my walls, I had about enough. I was close. Falling down the rabbit hole of Abel Gunner orgasms. He abruptly removed them. Using his fingers, he coated my forbidden hole.

“Ah,” I yelped, tensing that muscle. I was nervous; whatever he was about to do was going to hurt like hell.

“Clench all you want, Beauty. It’s still going in.” His bravado was taunting.

Thwack
. His hand came down hard, stunning me into silence. My hearing turned off in one ear. What the fuck? I shook my head to jiggle it back on. No such luck.

“Take a deep breath, Gia…that’s it, Beauty. Now, exhale and push out slowly.”

I did as he asked and felt the intrusion of the butt-plug being worked into my ass. I couldn’t help but bite my lower lip. Fuck. I wanted to bite him, my hand, or his leg. It wasn’t painful. Just a ton of unfamiliar pressure. Sure, his finger has been there. Singular.
A
finger. That plug was not a finger. The fucker had girth. I started breath short breaths like you’d see during childbirth on TV.

Thwack
.
Thwack
.
Thwack
. “Pay attention, Gia. Deep, long breaths. I’m almost there.” His voice was elementary. Oh, school was in session. Lesson being taught by Master Abel. If you don’t listen…handprint across one ass. Said ass being mine. Ugh. “Push back now, baby,” he commanded in a low tone whiling screwing the last inch of it in.

I pushed back slowly, opening myself to his little torture device. “There’s my pleasing girl. That’s it. You’ve got it all in. Now, not only will I own your ass soon enough, I will own your orgasms, too. You will not come as long as this—” He tapped the butt-plug with his fingers, sending a thrill of pleasure straight to my clit, “—is in your ass. You will wear this as part of your punishment for having such a fresh mouth. Understand?” He laced his fingers through my hair, lifting my neck so that I’d face him. Still biting my lip, I nodded. Ah-huh.

“Yes, Sir.” I met his eyes. His thick, sooty lashes twining at the ends. God, his lashes were unrivaled. Any woman would beg to own them.

There was no smile to his face. He was all business. From the corner of my eye, I watched as he picked up the vibrator. I turned my face forward and focused on the wall to ceiling crown molding. I needed a focal point. He held the vibrator for an inordinate amount of time. My fist balled in frustration. My mouth dry. I wanted to fucking scream. Dare I? Instinctively, my ass hole retracted the butt-plug. I knew what I needed. I needed to come. But, if I knew anything about my Dom…that was my punishment. No coming for Gia. Which had me in tatters. I was soaking wet to the point of dizzying frustration. Patience was a virtue, right? Obviously, I was virtue-less in that category.

He worked the dildo into my pussy with surgical precision. In and out, he went. Alternating from slow to fast. When he felt my body locking on to it, he stopped. I pulsated around it. But nothing. Then came the buzz. He turned it on high. My clit was so swollen I thought it would burst. Vibration, followed by the speed of his hand, worked me up to a near nervous breakdown.

The taste of copper in my mouth signaled my brain, acknowledging that I was pulverizing my lip. I needed to refocus. I could only do that staring at the backs of my eyelids. I watched the black dots go in and out of focus…followed by starbursts on the outer edges. Who knew darkness was so beautiful? Cosmic even…I had a solar system going on in front of me.

Thwack
.
Thwack
.
Thwack
. The flogger came down, alternating from cheek to cheek. “Ugh, holy mother of fucking God already. I can’t fucking take it…please, Sir. I will do anything. I swear. And I will never be fresh again. I promise.” My words came out garbled and distorted. God, I’d promise anything at that point. My first born. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner on my knees. Voyeuristic sex of his choosing. A shoe-shine.

He chuckled. “You’re first born, huh? But wouldn’t that be my first born, Beauty?” His voice held emotion—awe.

I held my breath. Did I really say that aloud? I stilled, searching my brain for the answer. “Yes, that would be correct. It would be your first born, Sir.” I swallowed my pride. Would he want kids? Did he want kids? Did I want kids? Eventually, yes, though he didn’t know I had bi-polar disorder. Would I purposefully inflict an innocent with my genes? His genes, one hundred percent yes. Mine, no way. Way too soon for that conversation. It was one we needed to have, but preferably without a vibrating torture device in me. Ugh.

He rubbed my bottom gently. “Stop over thinking, baby. I like the sound of it being ours…mine.” He leaned over and kissed my shoulder gently—reverently.

“Umm, can you turn that vibrator off, please? I can’t think for shit between that and this conversation.”

That statement elicited another chuckled response. One much darker, which caused my clenching to intensify. “No! The purpose of this lesson, Beauty is to explore. To discover. To take. And to give. My fingers thoroughly explored you. You’re discovering why you shouldn’t have a fresh mouth with me. And I’m taking your orgasms away until further notice. How’s that for demented?” All I could do was blink. As if by blinking, the answers would appear. I had nothing. Just dust moths floating through the fucking air. What do you say to that? Hell, yes, it’s demented…torturous and just plain fucking wrong on all human levels.

He removed the vibrator and turned it off…then set it on the bed next to the flogger. “Okay, baby girl, get dressed. We have a show to go to.” He moved to stand. I was being dismissed. “Tonight’s our opening show. It’s going to be insane.” He beamed with enthusiasm.

“And what about this thing?” I asked, staring at his beautiful eyes while pointing around to the butt-plug. The smirk. The classic fucking Abel-esque smirk danced across his face.

“That stays where it is.” He pointed with his index finger. “I will replace it with a larger one tomorrow,” he said, turning to walk into the bathroom.

“What? I can’t walk or go anywhere with this in me. It’s…it’s…it’s…just not natural. I feel off,” I said, completely astonished.

His head rounded the bathroom doorframe. “Are you trying to top me again? Or are you complaining?” He spoke softly, but the veins in his neck were pulsing? Dom alert.

“No, Sir. I’m not complaining…just trying to understand how this all works.” I shrugged. It sounded good, right? I was complaining. I knew it. And he sure as fuck knew it. I just stood there, looking at my now clasped hands. I wanted to sit a minute. But how could I think about sitting with that thing in my ass?

He approached me with a smile, grabbing my chin. My eyes were still downward. “Look at me, Beauty.” Our eyes locked. “Good, now that I have your attention. Chance will be here in a few moments to escort you to your room. You’ll get ready and meet me backstage. I don’t want you by yourself—ever. Understand? I will have your things brought up here; you’ll be staying with me. We clear?” His hands moved to my lower back, pulling me closer to him. His scent was intoxicating. I’d agree to anything right about then. I nodded. “Now, tell me who your Master is?” His breath danced across my lips.

“You are, babe. If you need some more stroking…just ask.” I said, feeling him through his sweatpants.

To my disbelief, he removed my hand. “Go get ready, Beauty,” he dismissed me. Clearly the conversation or any intentions were over. He kissed my forehead longingly and turned to enter the bathroom once again. Would I ever get enough of him? I wanted to stay in his suite forever. Hide away from the rest of the world and all its complications.

We both had stuff to deal with. There was still my mother and Morgana. At that thought, the hairs on the back of my neck went up. They had to be dealt with if I ever wanted a moment’s peace. One tied to me by blood. The other through Abel. I hated my mother. That was for fuck sure. But Morgana—I fucking wanted her dead. And I mean
dead
dead, too. Nemesis wasn’t even the half of it. The fact she shared anything with my Abel made me fucking sick to the core. I had to do it right, though. Be quicker on my feet. Delve into the ugliest part of my soul…and crush her. How? Without realizing it, I found myself in the hallway.

Fuck it! I’m an adult. I don’t need an escort to my own room. I had two legs. Time to find my vagina-balls and bring it. Waiting for the elevator, my mind was still contemplating how and what to do to that evil-fucking-hating-bitch-in-heat. There was a yowl in the stairwell to the left of the elevator. Kitty?

I opened the steel door enough to stick my head in. Another yowl, but that time, it had an edge of pain. Fuck. An injured cat. I rushed into the stairwell. “Psss. Psss. Psss.”

I took to the steps quickly, whispering, “Kitty. Where are you?” My heart pounded in my ears as the cat’s yowling grew louder and more frequently. Three floors down in the corner of the stairwell was a beautiful Calico on her side. Her paw in an awkward angle and bloody. Her breathing was labored. She was in trouble. Christ almighty. Her leg was broken. Where was the blood coming from? It wasn’t from her leg. How in the world did a cat get in here? Instead of orange and white, the cat’s coat was tinged red throughout. Weren’t cats normally agile on their feet?

I knelt down and offered my hands submissively, showing her I meant no harm. I cooed softly, but she wasn’t having it. She took a swipe at me. The smell of copper and wet fur made me want to gag. I needed to get help. My phone. I dropped my bag to the floor…rifling through the contents. No fucking phone. I must have left it in Abel’s room. Ugh, God. I did have a scarf. I knelt on my knees, using the scarf to distract kitty. I moved it quickly in front of her along the floor in a snake-like fashion. Her eyes locked on to it. I sprang into action and grabbed her under her belly, careful not to touch her leg. I pulled her close to me and bent awkwardly to reach for my bag. A woman’s cackling shot me up stock-straight with fear.

I moved to the wall to make myself invisible. I knew that shrill voice. But I couldn’t go there. There was no fucking way she could be there. “Who’s there? I need help. Can you call someone, please?” I waited nervously, giving the woman a chance to respond. Hopefully, it was a guest. Maybe they didn’t speak English. “Pouvez-vous m’aider? J’ai un chat bless
e
.
”
Can you help me? I have an injured cat.

The sound of heels clicking on the steps had me confident that I finally reached the woman. “In what fucking world would I ever help you, cunt? Imagine that? I want you fucking dead, you scabby-whore grifter. Don’t worry, little one. Soon he will be mine. Have fun with your wounded pussy. You’ll have one just like it soon enough.” Her voice chilled me to the bone. My body drained of all blood. I was sure. I hated the bitch. She was a crazy fucker.
Morgana
.