HurtMeHealMe Read online

  Caitlin vividly remembered the pain from the times Ivan had whipped her…

  And her body rebelled violently at the thought of going through it again.

  She started shaking and broke out into a cold sweat. How could she have wanted this? She imagined the cutting, searing lashes and the burning, as if her skin were on fire.

  Oh god, she was going to be sick. But with the ball gag in her mouth, she would choke on it. She would drown in it.

  Crack.

  The sound of the whip cracking behind her shocked Caitlin. Her whole body went rigid, paralyzed with fear.

  * * * * *

  Paul stormed into the club, ignoring the nods and greetings of the other patrons. He scanned the crowd until he spotted the back of Dante’s head over by the glass window to the public play area. He took a couple of strides in that very direction before Kristen stepped right in his path. He almost knocked the woman down in his haste to get to Dante.

  Kristen was a beautiful woman, no doubt. Tall, curvy, stacked, golden. Everywhere. She looked like a cheerleader—who’d been thoroughly debauched. He’d slept with her a couple of times and moved on pretty quickly, finding nothing to keep his interest. When he’d delved to find out what was under Kristen’s perfect golden façade, he found…more façade. He’d gotten away from her pretty fast and rejected all her subsequent attempts to hook up again.

  Now she stood in front of him, preening, totally oblivious to the rage boiling in him and his determination to let nothing stop him from getting to his woman. But then, Kristen was always rather oblivious to everything that didn’t involve Kristen.

  “Paul,” she said in that breathy voice of hers—which he knew for a fact was put on.

  He acknowledged her with a nod and tried to sidestep her. She latched on to his arm and he felt her fingernails digging into his skin below the sleeve of his T-shirt. He took another couple of steps, dragging her along with him.

  When she finally realized he wasn’t going to let her stop him, all her words came tumbling out in a rush. “Paul, I know you said you don’t want to sleep with one woman too many times because there are so many women in the world and too little time.”

  Paul grimaced, hearing the flippant excuse he gave to women who tried to get a bit too clingy. He kept on walking and she stumbled along beside him. In any other circumstance, it would have been funny, dragging her along while she clutched at his arm, except right now it really wasn’t.

  She persisted doggedly. “But I’ve noticed you haven’t been with anyone for a while and I was thinking that maybe you could…you know,” she gave him her best dazzling cheerleader smile, “fuck me in the meantime, until you find those other women.”

  He pulled his arm out of her clutches. She was a pain in his ass, always flirting with him and never getting the hint. He always tried to let her down graciously with good humor so as not to hurt her. His patience was wearing thin. “Look, Kristen. Now is not a good time.”

  She pouted in a way that was probably meant to be sexy and provocative. It just pissed Paul off all the more.

  “It’s just—I’ve been waiting for you.” She stepped in front of him again, stroked his arm.

  What a pile of horseshit. Waiting for him. Kristen had set her sights on him, sure, but that hadn’t stopped her from bumping uglies with anyone she could get her talons into in the meantime. Paul looked past Kristen to the viewing window, where it seemed a whole lot of people had gathered to watch a public display. He felt Kristen lick up his arm and over his biceps, her tongue delving under the sleeve of his T-shirt. He got goose bumps. Not the good kind.

  “Okay, Kristen. Enough!” Her eyes opened wide at his harsh tone. “You’re standing in the way of me getting to my woman. So I suggest you move, before I fucking move you.”

  Kristen blinked and whispered, “Your woman?”

  “Yes—my woman.”

  She stood there with her mouth gaping. The first time he’d ever heard her shut up. He picked her up and moved her about a foot to the left.

  As he walked by, he threw over his shoulder, “And it’s past time you took me off your fucking menu.”

  Paul jostled none too politely through the crowd to get to the window. When he got there, he grasped the back of Dante’s neck. “Where is—” The loud crack of a whip had him almost choking on his words.

  Holy fucking mother of god.

  Caitlin was tied to the St. Andrew’s cross. She was mostly naked, wearing a blindfold and a ball gag. She stood stock-still as Tom walked in a circle around her.

  Paul tried to push past Dante to get to the door of the playroom. Dante gripped his arm, pulling him back. “It’s her,” he said through gritted teeth.

  What the fuck? “Of course it’s fucking her! I can see that. Now let go of me, asshole. I have to get her out of there.”

  “No, I mean she’s the girl Tom’s been training for.”

  “She’s— What?”

  “His name is Thomas Carter. He was her former Master’s business partner. She’s the one he’s in love with, the reason he’s been coming here to train with us.” Dante looked into Paul’s eyes with pity and lowered his voice. “He says he can give her what she needs.”

  Fucking motherfucker.

  Paul’s whole body started shaking. It seemed everything tilted at an angle and got fuzzy around the edges. His head was pounding so bad it felt as if the top of his skull were going to come right off.

  “I will fucking kill that fucking bastard. She. Is. Mine!” He bellowed out the last words and the people around him stepped back as if he were some kind of crazed animal. He sure as hell felt like it. He wanted to tear Tom apart with his bare hands for daring to touch his woman.

  Mine, mine, mine, mine, screeched his inner beast.

  Paul took off through the crowd and they parted as if they couldn’t get away from him fast enough. He rounded the wall and skidded into the room just as Tom—Thomas—fucking bastard—was trailing the whip over Caitlin’s ass. Caitlin started thrashing in her bonds and making loud, incoherent sounds from behind the gag.

  Paul gripped the timber frame of the doorway. “Get the hell away from her. If you lay a hand on her again, I will beat you until you’re a stain on this fucking floor!”

  Both Caitlin and Thomas stilled. Thomas looked up at Paul, the initial shock at being interrupted fading from his face to be replaced by a look of determination that basically said, “Bring it.”

  Caitlin turned her head blindly toward the sound of Paul’s voice. She started thrashing in her bonds again, her sounds even louder and more frantic.

  Paul burned to tear Thomas’ head off. And use it as a football. That was what he’d planned to do the moment he saw Thomas with his woman. He was going to cause that fucker a whole world of pain. But he rapidly amended his priorities, instantly seeing Caitlin was in distress. His woman came first. His woman would always come first.

  He’d pencil in retribution for another time.

  He rushed over and began to unbuckle Caitlin from the cross. He was vaguely aware that Dante was in the room, speaking in a low voice to Thomas.

  When she was free, Caitlin sagged into his arms. He eased down to the floor and sat her on his lap. He unwrapped the blindfold and took out the gag. She blinked at the light, struggling to focus.

  God, she was a mess. Her eyes were puffy and red. She had drool running down her chin and snot pouring out of her nose. She’d been crying, hard. The blindfold was soaking wet. He pulled off his T-shirt and quickly and efficiently cleaned her up.

  “Paul, Paul, Paul, Paul,” she whispered in a raspy voice and clutched at him. He wrapped his arms around her and rocked. She was sobbing into his chest, her hands opening and closing, grabbing him as if she were afraid he would let her go.

  Paul tucked Caitlin’s head under his chin and lifted his gaze to meet Thomas’. “What the fuck have you done to her?” he demanded in a low voice through clenched teeth.

  Thomas looked stricken. “I tie
d her up and touched her…” The fucker gulped, probably a reaction to the killing rage boiling in Paul’s eyes. “I hadn’t even given her one lash yet. I don’t understand why she’s so upset. I didn’t hurt her. I didn’t. I swear it.” Thomas’ voice cracked.

  Dante interrupted in a calm voice, as if he were talking about the weather. “Did you give her a safe word, Thomas?”

  “Uh, well, she was gagged, so I gave her the ball to drop if she needed me to stop.” He shook his head. “She didn’t drop the ball.”

  Paul pressed a kiss to the top of Caitlin’s hair. “Sweetheart, did you want him to stop?”

  Caitlin didn’t answer. She was burrowing into Paul’s shirtless chest.

  “Caitlin?” Paul pulled her away and gave her a little shake to get her attention. “Sweetheart, answer me. Did you want him to stop?”

  She nodded, biting her lip, and a fresh wave of tears trickled down her cheeks.

  “Why didn’t you drop the ball?” he asked gently.

  She blinked and shook her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  Paul sighed. “He gave you a ball, sweetheart. You were supposed to drop it if you wanted him to stop. It was your safe signal.”

  “I didn’t understand.” She hiccupped. “I felt him put it in my hand but I was trying to get away. I panicked. I couldn’t—I didn’t understand. I never had a safe signal before…”

  Yes, he knew. That bastard Ivan never gave her one. This asshole Thomas hadn’t made sure she understood the one he gave her. Fuckers.

  She dropped her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  Paul pressed a kiss to her forehead, over the crease between her brows. “Shhh, it’s not your fault, baby girl. It’s not your fault.” He pressed her to his chest again and rubbed her back. While he murmured soothing words, he looked over the top of her head and fixed Thomas with a stare that should have smote the bastard on the spot. If Paul was in possession of any divine powers. Which he wasn’t. What a fucking shame.

  Paul kissed the top of Caitlin’s head again and heard Dante instructing Thomas about getting confirmation that the sub understood the safe word or safe action before proceeding with the scene. Paul flicked his gaze back to Thomas to see that the guy’s face had paled and he was looking a little shell-shocked.

  Dante began to usher Thomas from the room, however, he stopped right in front of where Paul sat on the floor holding Caitlin. The guy was either really stupid or a he had a big swinging set of cahones.

  “Caitlin?” Thomas asked in a hesitant voice.

  Caitlin looked up at him with wide eyes, holding on to Paul as if he were her lifeline.

  “Caitlin, I’m so sorry,” whispered Thomas. “I never meant to frighten you.”

  “It’s all right. I thought it was what I wanted but I—I couldn’t.” She smiled a watery smile. “I love him. It has to be him,” she finished in a quiet voice.

  Thomas nodded once, giving Caitlin a resigned smile that immediately faltered. He stared at her for a moment longer before he turned and walked out of the door with Dante.

  “What did you say?” asked Paul, lifting Caitlin’s chin.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Say what you said to him. Say it again.”

  “I—love him?”

  Paul growled, biting back a smile. “You love who?”

  She smiled a small, close-mouthed smile. “I love you. I love you, Paul,” she answered huskily. She took in a deep, shuddering breath. “I think I fell in love with you somewhere between the middle and bottom rung of the ladder in my store that first day. I just didn’t realize it.” New tears brimmed in her gorgeous eyes. She whispered it again. “I love you. It has to be you.”

  Paul felt as if something were being freed in his chest, as though internally he’d been bound in his own ropes and now the tight knots were unraveling, releasing him.

  “My baby girl, I love you. I love you so much.” His voice broke.

  Paul lowered his head and took her lips in a searing soul kiss. And she kissed him back with a hunger he had never before experienced. Her mouth, lips and tongue were ferocious with the way they took and with the way they gave back. But her hands, they touched him with a kind of reverence.

  She was showing him, he knew—she was trying to show him the love she felt. And he felt it. God, he felt it. It made his eyes glisten with tears that matched her own.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Caitlin stood naked in Paul’s apartment at the foot of the stairs. His attitude as he gazed at her was a stark contrast to the loving, emotional man who had held her in his arms back at the club, telling her that he loved her.

  The drive back to Paul’s apartment had been a silent one, although she was sure he’d been just as aware of the sexual tension between them. Its presence undeniable, like another passenger in the car.

  Whenever she’d glanced at Paul, his fingers were clenched tight around the steering wheel and he seemed to be deep in thought. The few times he’d looked at her briefly, his eyes roamed over her, his expression blank and unreadable.

  Paul stepped toward Caitlin and unwrapped her fingers from the tight hold she had around the balustrade, abruptly yanking her away from her thoughts.

  He pulled her arms back and clasped her hands together behind her. He didn’t tie or cuff her, so she gripped her right hand in her left and held them there. Even though this position thrust her breasts outward, Paul pushed her shoulders back farther, until her spine was arched and her buttocks were also thrust out. He looked her up and down with an appraising eye. She felt her chest, neck and face warm as her skin flushed under his scrutiny.

  “Now, you will listen to what I have to say. And you will listen very, very carefully,” he said sternly. “You are mine, Caitlin.” He spoke slowly, enunciating each word. “Mine. You understand? You will not run from me again.” He took one small step closer. “You will never, ever run from me.”

  She watched him with wide eyes, wanting to speak to tell him that no, she would never, ever do that again. But she kept silent and perfectly still, not even a nod of her head in acknowledgement.

  “No other man will ever touch you,” he continued, his breath fanning a wisp of hair against her cheek. “It will be only my mouth on yours. My hands on your body. My cock inside you.”

  Her eyes fluttered closed at the last statement and a shudder racked her. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. She stayed silent.

  “You. Are. Mine.”

  His finger stroked along her throat. She opened her eyes to see the steely look in his own had softened somewhat.

  “Do you trust me, Caitlin?” he asked, his voice gentler.

  “Yes, Paul. I trust you.”

  “Do you trust me to find a way to make this work? For us?” There was a slight hint of vulnerability in his eyes when he asked the question, and Caitlin’s heart wanted to break because she had put that vulnerability there. “Will you give me your time, your patience and your promise that you will let me decide what’s best for you?”

  “Yes, Paul. I promise.” She wanted to fall at his feet and beg his forgiveness. “Paul?”

  “Yes, Caitlin.”

  “I’m…oh god, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I—”

  He silenced her with an affectionate kiss. “It’s all right, baby girl.” That small term of endearment made tears spring to her eyes. As long as he called her baby girl or sweetheart or darlin’ with his slow, sexy Texas drawl, she knew he wasn’t mad at her. She knew everything would be all right. Crazy that just two words from him could make her cry. Crazy that with him, she seemed to always be crying. Maybe that was what love did to you? Turned you into an emotional, blubbering mess.

  She decided that as long as she could be a blubbering mess with him, that would be okay.

  His voice turned stern again, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “I’ll have you know though, if you do it again, I’m going to have to punish you. And I mean a real punishment. Not one of our little
games.”

  The thought of disappointing him again and having him punish her for real—in anger—distressed Caitlin. Even though she knew Paul would never hurt her like Ivan, she knew a real punishment from Paul would hurt more. Emotionally, it would devastate her. She tried not to let the panic she felt show in her face. “What would you do?”

  He smiled an evil smile. “Oh, baby girl, you don’t wanna know. And if I tell you, you might be inclined to do the very thing that will incur that punishment.”

  Caitlin gulped and blinked up at Paul. She thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch, but she couldn’t be sure. He turned her around to face the stairs and gave her a swat on her bare behind.

  “Up you go—stand with your right foot on the fourth step up. Over to the left,” he added when she stood in the center of the step. “I want the inside of your right ankle up against the balustrade. Stretch your body forward as far as you can and hold on to the handrail. Hold on tight now—and don’t you let go.” His voice sharpened as he gave the final instruction.

  Caitlin obediently followed his commands, feeling a little silly since her left leg was sticking out behind her as if she were doing an arabesque on the stairs.

  Paul stepped close and ran his hands over her skin, stroking her arms, her back, caressing over her buttocks and thighs.

  Without saying a word, he maneuvered her left leg carefully, stretching it out atop the sloping handrail, so her toes hung just off the end. He wrapped coils of rope around her upper thigh and at her ankle to secure her leg in position.

  Two more ropes were bound around her right leg at mid-thigh and ankle to secure her to the vertical rails. Then he wound rope around and around her arms, from elbows to wrists, so that her arms were bound tightly to the handrail.

  By the time Paul finished, Caitlin was a panting mass of need, muscles stretched tight, each nerve alive. Every brush of the rope and his strong, confident fingers, every stray air current that whispered over her skin felt amplified.