Beautiful Scars Part 17

"Don't make excuses for her." She wiggled off his lap, shooting him a dark look. "That p.i.s.ses me off. I can't stand it when people make excuses for addicts."

"s.h.i.t." He closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face.

Chaili's mom had done more than a little time in and out of treatment centers. Her drug of choice had been alcohol, though. When Chaili was a soph.o.m.ore in college, her mom had been riding home with a boyfriend and they'd been in an accident-alcohol had been involved on both sides. n.o.body survived. Neither of the drivers had been sober, but since Chaili's mom was the pa.s.senger, insurance had been forced to pay Chaili the full benefits and it had let her finish college.

But it left her with little tolerance for addicts. Considering some of the s.h.i.t he'd seen her deal with most of her life, he could understand.

"I'm not making excuses, exactly," he said quietly. "But if you're involved with somebody, you should see when they need help."

"And she could have told you she needed it, instead of trying to cry rape when you wanted out of a relationship that wasn't working," Chaili said, her voice cool.

It was a little more complicated than that, but...h.e.l.l. How had they gotten around to discussing this anyway?

"You know, we have this way of straying off topic," he said, crooking a grin at her. "I have plans to do all sorts of dirty, unspeakable acts to you. And you keep talking."

She rolled her eyes. "You don't seem to have problems speaking the unspeakable."

"True." He caught her skirt in his hand, tugged her to him. "I plan on tying you up and f.u.c.king you shortly. Want to hear how I'm going to do it?"

Her breath caught. He loved the way it did that...a little hitch in her chest, like he'd just sucked the oxygen right out of her lungs. He loved it. She bit her lip and then shrugged, glancing past him to the bowl of mousse. "There's still chocolate left."

"Maybe we could take it with us. I wouldn't mind seeing you spread it all over me and licking it off," he teased.

She made a face at him. "No. I have issues with...um. Food and s.e.x. They don't go together." She sank back down onto his lap and picked up the spoon. "Besides, I don't want to miss a single bite of it."

"Issues with food and s.e.x, huh?"

"Yes. It's unsanitary." She wrinkled her nose, scooping a bite of mousse and offering it to him.

He shook his head, resting his hands on her hips. "Okay. I'll keep that in mind...a weird thing to have limits on, but no food and s.e.x."

"Hey, sanitary issues isn't weird," she said, nudging him with her finger. "It's just like having good body hygiene after...well..."

She trailed off and he watched as a blush crept over her cheeks. "Body hygiene is important. Showers and stuff after the, ah...a.n.a.l s.e.x."

"Absolutely." f.u.c.k, she was so d.a.m.ned cute. So d.a.m.ned beautiful.

"You're snickering at me," she said, heaving out a sigh.

"I'm not."

"You are." She squirmed around on his lap.

The uncomfortable look on her face had him realizing this wasn't just a random thought firing off in her head, and something started to burn low in his gut. "If you say the T word, I'm going to get p.i.s.sed," he said mildly. "I can connect the dots well enough and I see the picture."

One reason he didn't mesh very well in a hardcore D/s scene was because of some of the a.s.ses he'd met. He'd encountered a few jerks, like Tim, who thought it was cool to use humiliation to 'teach a sub'. And he already had a feeling he knew where this was going.

"Tim did everything from trying to push threesomes on me to buying a cane-which he never used-and then he started trying to cross harder lines. Said I needed 'learn my place' and once he tried to make me go down on him after a.n.a.l. It's disgusting." She threw her spoon down. "He wanted a happy little sub but that was never what I wanted. He wanted me in the place he'd a.s.signed for me and he couldn't see that wasn't a place I wanted."

Sliding his hand up her back, he sank his fingers into the tight muscles of her neck, ma.s.saging them. "You only belong in the place where you want to be. And I kind of like the place you made for yourself. I don't want you anywhere else."

"Good." She tilted her head and smiled at him. "You know...you were supposed to be telling me all these dirty, unspeakable things."

"Oh. Yes." Closing his eyes, he continued to ma.s.sage her neck. He needed to get focused and stop thinking about how he wanted to pound that a.s.shole ex of hers b.l.o.o.d.y. "We'll get to those. As soon as you're done with your dessert."

"I'm done now."

Chapter Twelve.

Chaili stared at her reflection in the mirror over the couch.

She'd expected him to take her to his bedroom but he hadn't.

They were in the living room. Or she guessed he called it his living room, although the ma.s.sive sprawl of the room put her piddly little living room to shame. The couch was a long, liquid spread of gleaming leather and she was standing in front of it, her back to Marc as he bound her.

Thanks to the mirror in front of her, she was able to watch the entire thing, too.

He didn't use rope or cuffs.

Bondage tape was a new experience. It had more give than the leather restraints she was used to, but considering the time Marc was taking as he bound her arms behind her back, crossed with her forearms pressed together, she didn't know if it mattered that there was a little bit of give in the tape.

When he finished with her arms, he dropped the tape down onto the couch and stood there, his hands on her hips, staring at their reflection in the mirror. "You're beautiful," he said gruffly.

Chaili swallowed.

He reached around, tugging at the tie that held her skirt up. It fell away, leaving her naked before him. Then he trailed his fingers up, tracing around the edges of her tattoo, along the delicates lines of the b.u.t.terfly, stroking the scars. Her lids drifted low, shielding her eyes.

"Look at me. I want to see you, watching me as I watch you...you're so d.a.m.ned amazing," he whispered. Abruptly, he stopped. "I want a picture of you. Is that off limits?"

Chaili blinked. "Ah... a picture?"

"Yes. You. With me."

She looked down at her scarred chest and then back up, into his intense golden eyes. Unsteadily, she said, "Okay."

He was gone before she could say another word and she squeezed her eyes closed, refusing to think about it. Pictures...s.h.i.t. She wasn't going to let herself get self-conscious. She'd think about the way the tape felt...the way it felt as he stared at her. And what he might be planning. Her breath caught in her chest, as she eyed the tape. Was he done?

He'd said something about hog tying...

"Change your mind?"

She looked up and saw him in the doorway, holding a camera. A tripod.

"Nuh...no," she stammered. She didn't think, at least. "I mean, it's just for you."

Something flashed in his eyes and the smile that curved his lips was almost wild. "d.a.m.n straight. Just for me." He set the camera up, angling it a little. He glanced up at her, had her shift around a little. Then he moved to stand behind her, bringing one arm around her. "I should have thought of this before I tied you," he said gruffly. "I'll do more...but for now..."

He spread his hand open over the tattoo. There was something oddly possessive, protective, gentle about the way he touched her. Chaili closed her eyes, lowered her head, struggling to catch her breath.

She heard a low, electronic whine and opened her eyes, saw something in Marc's hand. A remote, she realized. He had a remote for the camera. Jerking her head up, she stared at him in shock and he took another. "Look at me," he said.

She did and he covered her mouth with his, a soft, gentle kiss.

Another picture.

Then the gentleness fell away and the hand he'd splayed over the tattoo lifted, cupping her cheek as he thrust his tongue inside her mouth, deep. Hard. Over and over. It was a deep, brutal possession and she wasn't even aware of the camera taking picture after picture.

He undid her. Stripped her bare. Shaking and gasping for breath by the time he lifted his head, Chaili swayed, caught off balance. His hands at her hips steadied her. "Stay there," he rasped.

Like I can do anything else, she thought, dazed. Licking her lips, she tried to will some strength into her shaking legs, but it wasn't happening.

In the mirror, she caught sight of herself and her breath hitched once more in her throat.

Her face was flushed.

Her eyes glowed.

With her arms bound behind her, the flat plane of her chest seemed almost vulnerable...and the tattoo, the marks of her scars almost surreal. For the first time, she realized they weren't quite as disfiguring as she'd always thought. No. It wasn't what she would have wanted, but as much as she'd been telling herself she'd accepted herself, she hadn't fully managed it.

Yet.

But maybe she was getting closer.

Marc nudged her over a little and she blinked, feeling more than a little off balance, although it had nothing to do with what was going on in the physical world. Everything to do with what was happening inside her head.

Licking her lips, she looked down at the couch. She hadn't quite processed what she was seeing before Marc nudged her back into place. "Bend over," he whispered in her ear.

Oh. h.e.l.l.

Chaili bent over the round black leather ottoman he'd moved onto the couch, biting her lip as she waited for it to shift under her weight. It didn't. He nudged her up higher and then, with his eyes intent on hers, he reached down, caught her lower leg, bringing it higher.

"Okay?" he asked softly as he brought her ankle almost flush with her thigh.

Chaili groaned.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"Yes..." He was going to tie her. Like this. Pressing her face against the leather, she closed her eyes, sucked in a desperate breath. There was a bit of pull in her muscles, but not much. She was active, flexible as h.e.l.l, a fact Marc obviously seemed to appreciate.

A fact he was appreciating slowly.

Shuddering, she fisted her hands, the one part of her she could easily move, and sank her nails into her palms, while the need and hunger sank its claws into her belly.

Finally, he finished. He'd hogtied her, but modified it-her ankles were bound to her thighs and her hands were bound behind her back, forearm to forearm. The position left her unable to move, and she felt completely exposed.

"I told you I wanted to see you bound," he teased, pushing her hair back and peering into her eyes. "Can you move much?"

She tried, squirming around; she could move her hands. That was about it. Lying as she was, it wasn't even that easy to move her head. She felt completely helpless. It was erotic as h.e.l.l. Frustrating as h.e.l.l.

Giving him the power...the trust to do this.

The real twist was that she trusted him a h.e.l.l of a lot more than she would have trusted Tim. He'd always tried to take things too far.

"Okay. You got to see it. You going to do those dirty, unspeakable things to me now?" she asked, swallowing the knot that settled in her throat, trying to forget those dark, unwelcome thoughts that tried to creep in.

He pressed a thumb between her eyebrows. "You know...I can tell when you start thinking about him. You get this line...right here." He stood, moved behind her. "It p.i.s.ses me off, Chaili. You need to stop it."

The first spank, hard, almost too hard, caught her by surprise. She gasped and twisted. Perched on the leather ottoman, in what felt like a d.a.m.ned precarious position, she jolted hard enough that she might have fallen if he hadn't been there to steady her.

"Be still," he growled. "You think about him when I'm with you. Stop it."

He didn't do it again, moving to stand behind her.

She opened her mouth to snarl at him and then she groaned as he pushed her thighs apart and then sank deep inside her. No preparation.

No teasing. Just that deep, sudden penetration.

He took her rough, and fast, and the first o.r.g.a.s.m caught her by surprise. While she was still gasping, he pulled away and she craned her head. Through the sweaty strands of her hair, she saw him. He was stripping his clothes away, watching her with burning eyes. "You going to think about him again while I'm with you like this?" he rasped.

Chaili closed her eyes. "s.h.i.t, Marc. I'm sorry, okay? I...he..."

He tangled his fingers in her hair and tugged her head up, staring into her eyes. "He can't come into your head unless you let him in. Just don't open the door."

He continued to watch her, his gaze searching. Finally, after long seconds pa.s.sed, he stood and moved away, out of her sight again.

Squeezing her eyes closed, she twisted her wrists, jerking at the bonds that held her trapped.

"It's not as easy as that to undo them," Marc said from somewhere off behind her. "It's going to take more than just jerking at the tape. Of course, if you want me to let you go, just say the word."

Chaili curled her lip. She wasn't about to do that. She just...

Muttering under her breath, she continued to jerk at the bonds until he came up behind her.

Then he touched her.

One finger.

Slicked with something unbelievably cool against her heated flesh. Teasing her c.l.i.t. Just her c.l.i.t. Tingles, cool at first, and then more intense, spread through her. She groaned and squirmed on the leather that supported her weight, jerking against the restraints harder, twisting against them almost desperately. "Marc," she whispered.

"Unspeakable...dirty...things," he said slowly. He spread the cheeks of her a.s.s and she trembled, held still as she waited.