“Do not say thirty minutes,” he says, voice sharp with impatience.
I lift my gaze, finding his expression wide with a rare sort of honest urgency.
“I can’t do this anymore. Ineedher. I’ve tried to be patient—to assure you that I can keep control. But I’m spiraling over here.” Wide-eyed, he stares at me for a minute to let it all sink in.Then an abrupt turn on his heel sets him pacing again. “Shit!” He rakes his hand through his hair repeatedly. “She fucking scares me.” He pauses again, fisting his hand in his inch-long hair, staring off to the side in disbelief. “That’s about the stupidest fucking thing I could say,” he mutters, then trudges toward the door, about to leave.
I hate that he feels he can’t be honest with me out of fear that I’ll hold Jenna from him. And even though he’s barely in control, his self-awareness is a good sign.
That’s why I say, “Carte blanche,” just as he grabs the door. “In one week, you’ll have her again. Carte blanche.”
His eyes are wide with surprise when he turns to me, and I’m more than a little surprised myself. Not just at myself for allowing him to have her without restrictions so soon, but at him as well—for opening up like this, showing a flicker of vulnerability, being blatantly honest about what she does to him. It makes me want to give him a chance to prove himself.
“Carte blanche?” he parrots, unable to believe what I just said.
“No permanent marks and nothing I can’t mend with regular aftercare.”
“Okay.”
“I’m serious, Killian. No crossing the lines, or this thing is over—for good.”
“Okay,” he repeats, the relief palpable in his long exhale.
With a final nod, he leaves and shuts the door behind him. I lean my head back and draw a not-so-relieved breath. I can’t believe what I just agreed to.
Once again, I’m questioning my decisions, and my uncertainty nags at me. It feels like I’m driving a car that’s skidding out of control, gripping the wheel and praying that I’m spinning it in the right direction.
The need to regain control burns under my skin, and it makes me want to go have my sadistic way with Jenna. Dominating a woman has always grounded me—brought order to the chaos. But with her, it’s more than that. I don’t just want to dominate her. I want to make her cry—desperate tears and harrowing screams. I want to shove her into the dirt at my feet. Spit and piss on her. Strip away all dignity and reduce her to a sniffling, broken mess. All the while, I want to stroke her pretty hair and whisper soothing words—comfort her for the despicable things I’m doing.
With a grunt, I reach down to adjust my hard length that’s straining uncomfortably against my pants. I feel like I’m going way too hard on her all the time, yet I’m barely doing half the things I want to do to her. I wonder if she’ll ever be able to take the full brunt of my desire. And I wonder if I can handle the waiting it will take to get there. Killian is not the only one here who is losing control in the face of Jenna’s open submission.
But as much as I want to selfishly take and sate my own desires, his needs come first. I’ll hold back until she’s ready—if she ever will be.
34
The Clean Toy
Jenna
“It’s time,” Ian tells me one night as he places a large pot of fragrant roast chicken with vegetables in front of me.
“For what?” I’m too focused on the prospect of eating his delicious food to notice the gravity in his voice.
“Killian will have free rein tonight.”
Reaching for the spoon in the steaming dish, I pause mid-air. “Tonight?” It’s only been a week since he flogged me.
“Yes, tonight. He’ll get full control. He decides what to do and for how long.”
Swallowing hard, I bring my hands into my lap, suddenly not so hungry anymore.
Ian scoops a healthy portion onto my plate, but I just stare at it. “What is he going to do?” I ask, my mind already whirring with terrifying scenarios—my skin bleeding, screaming and begging for mercy without getting any, Killian taking my ass while spitting vile degradations at me.
“That’s up to him. But he’ll stay within the agreed-upon boundaries.”
“But what if he—” I can’t even find the words to finish the sentence, because there are so many possible horror scenarios, one worse than the other.
Ian leans in to take my hand. “Jenna,” he urges, tilting his head to gain my attention. “He’ll push you. There’s no doubt about that. But I’m also sure he won’t go too far. He might be young, but he has plenty of experience with this.”
A thick knot of jealousy lodges in my throat. I shouldn’t hate all those women who came before me—or rather, after me—and I shouldn’t want to be yet another victim to Killian’s sadistic whims. But I do. Every day I’m here, I crave it with a hunger that’s getting harder and harder to ignore.
