Holly’s severe, chronic pain from her fibromyalgia isn’t merely physical, it is emotional, too. Her brother, Louis, sits in jail, wrongly convicted of their mother’s murder. Nothing will stop Holly’s efforts to get his sentence overturned. She has put her life on hold to make it happen.
Walt has avoided the fact that he has insulated himself from moving forward because he still holds a torch for his ex, Kimbra. When he meets Holly, he knows he can help her in more ways than one—Kimbra is an attorney, and a friend. Walt is also a heavy sadist who wants to show Holly how the good kinds of pain can help her overcome the bad.
While work commences to free Louis, Walt realizes exactly how hard he has fallen for Holly. As he finds himself fighting to show her that a spoonie and a sadist can make a relationship work, will he convince her that two against nature can absolutely be perfect for each other?
As Walt had predicted, Holly was in a lot of pain the next morning. He helped her into the shower while he went to get their coffee started. The stress over everything was wearing on her, that was obvious.
At least now that Walt was an approved visitor, he could go inside with her. Today would be the second time he’d be seeing Louis in person. Even had he not known Holly or knew the facts behind the case, Walt would have believed the kid didn’t belong there.
Although the kid wasn’t the best descriptor. Even though Louis was twenty-five and five years younger than Holly, he stood at least two inches taller than Walt’s own six three. But it was his soft, gentle voice, the way he talked to his sister—heck, the way he asked Walt to please thank Kimbra for him for taking on his case—that all told Walt this kid had been wronged.
He was thin, lean, lanky, a runner’s body, not a beefed-up weight-lifter.
They didn’t have to wait long to see him after they checked in. Today Louis had a greyhound with him, which calmly lay on the floor at his feet, a beautiful merle female who calmly watched the activities around her but didn’t pull or bark.
It didn’t escape Walt’s notice though that an extra guard stood not too far away, as if to keep people away from them. In the case of kids, to keep them from approaching the dog. And Walt didn’t miss that they’d been put at a table in a corner. Between the guard’s close proximity and Kimbra’s warning that anything they discussed might be monitored during the visit if she wasn’t there, Walt knew he couldn’t say anything to Louis about the evidence. Not even hint about it. The last thing he wanted to do was blow the element of surprise Kimbra was counting on to be a factor in springing the evidence on the prosecution.
They chatted for a few minutes, mostly Louis asking Holly questions about how the case was coming, and Holly getting him up to speed, before there was a brief lull.
“How’s Sasha doing?” Holly asked.
Walt knew it was killing her that she couldn’t just pull her brother into her arms and hold him, hug him, take him home with her, without worrying about what anyone else would do.
“She’s doing real good. Ms. Marta’s pleased with how she came around for me. Right now we’re working on her retrieve. Sometimes she will, sometimes she won’t.”
Louis clasped his hands together on the table and stared at them. “Hol, I don’t want you to get upset if Ms. Kimbra can’t get me out, okay? I’m worried about you.”
“Me? Sweetie, don’t worry about me. I’m fi—”
“Louis,” Walt interrupted, “don’t count Kimbra out. She’s good, and she’s stubborn, and she’s probably ten times as smart as the average attorney. I should know, I was married to her.”
That finally pulled a smile from the kid. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. If she has faith in you, all you need to do is keep having faith and try to hang in there.”
“I don’t get my hopes up,” Louis said. “I can’t. This place will eat you up if you do. I guess it’s not as bad here as it is some places. And I’m lucky, ’cuz I’m in one of the special wings because of the dogs. Everybody in the program is low-risk and has a good record in here. We look out after each other and the dogs. It’s not home though.”
The boy nodded, indicating his sister. “Promise me you’ll take care of her, okay?”
“I promise, but pretty soon, you’ll be out to help me.” He stroked Holly’s hair. “Momma and Papi can’t wait to throw you a coming home party.”
Holly shot him a glare he knew he’d have to explain away later.
“Ms. Kimbra told me. I’m looking forward to meeting them.”
When their time was up, Holly waited to let Walt turn her around until after the guard had led Louis and Sasha out of the secured visitors area.
As he’d anticipated, once they were at the car, she turned on him. “What the hell was that about?”
Finally, her anger. He’d been beginning to seriously wonder about her, that while she said the right things, she never got it out of her system.
She cried, but she never got mad. She held it in in an unhealthy way, contributing to her physical pain.
Hoping to provoke her, he verbally poked. “What?”
“Trying to get his hopes up! You can’t fucking do that! It’ll crush him if something happens!”
He pulled her in, like he was going to hug her. But he reached up and fisted her hair, forcing her head back. “Watch it, sweetheart,” he warned.
She faltered a little but came back strong.
“Watch it, my ass! You listen to me, Wa—”
He kissed her, long and hard, until he felt her respond. Only then did he lift his lips from hers. “Who’s in charge, sweetheart?”
It took her a moment to respond. “You are, Sir.”
“Good girl. Do you trust me?”
After a few heartstopping seconds, she nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl. I want his hopes up, because he is coming home.” He thought about the evidence he—ironically—didn’t dare tell her about yet for fear of it crushing her in case he was wrong. “I have faith in Kimbra.”
“I’ve had faith in a lot of attorneys.”
“None of them were Kimbra.” He let go of her hair and opened the door for her. “You’re beautiful when you’re angry, sweetheart.”
“Why did you cut me off in there? When I was trying to tell him not to worry about me?”
“Because he’s your brother, and he loves you, and telling him not to worry about you is about as worthless and insulting as me telling you not to worry about him.”
She started to respond, then her mouth snapped shut. “Oh,” she softly said.
“Yeah, oh. Don’t insult his intelligence. I know he’s always going to be your little brother, and you’re always going to see that sad baby you begged your parents to adopt so you could make him happy, but he’s twenty-five. He’s a man. Unfortunately, the tail end of his childhood was spent locked up in that damn place, but it’s not too late for him to have a good life. You bottling up your anger isn’t healthy. We should probably look at you maybe trying to get some of that out during a scene. I can take it. I don’t mind being your punching bag.”
She finally let him help her into the truck. They were nearly halfway back to Sarasota when she finally admitted it.
“I never had anyone I could be angry with before. Not…with. You know what I mean.”
“I was too busy trying to help him. I couldn’t afford to show anger to anyone, especially someone who might be in a position to look at his case or help him.”
“That makes sense, but I am not a person you have to worry about like that. If you’re angry, you need to express it. It could be contributing to your pain. Converted to stress, to the bad kind of stress hormones your body creates that amplifies your bad pain.”
“I never thought about that before.”
“Then next time we play, expect me to throw in a little mind-fucking to rile you up.”
She finally laughed, but it sounded easy, not tense. “Is that before the fucking-fucking?”
“Yes, because I’ll need to get you settled down again before you rip my balls off.”
It felt like sweet electricity flowing through her, from her nipple, straight to her clit. When she tried to sit up again to start undressing him, he simply kept her pinned to the bed by her throat. Not choking, just…holding her there.
“No, you don’t,” he whispered before kissing her again.
She ground her pussy against his leg and whined with need. He moved his thumb to her left nipple and started teasing it into a tight, needy peak.
No, she wasn’t the most promiscuous person in the sexual playground, but she’d considered herself fairly experienced before everything had happened.
What Walt was doing to her—without her panties even being off—was blowing.
The room was lit by a single lamp in the far corner, and his blue eyes looked dark, smoky, intense.
“Is someone horny?” he whispered.
“Does someone want to come?”
“Yes, Sir, please!”
He smiled. “I think you can beg better than that, sweetheart. Be my good girl and beg for me.”
She tried to sit up again, but he didn’t release her. “Please, Sir! Please make me come, I want to come for you and you’ve got me really horny.”
He leaned in and nipped her shoulder, lightly grazing his teeth along her flesh. “Keep going.”
“Sir, I really need to come, please let me come!”
His warm breath brushed against her ear. “Tell me how you want me to make you come, sweetheart.”
“I—any way Sir wants!”
“No. Wrong answer. Keep trying.” He kissed her cheek and leaned down, sucking her ignored right nipple into his mouth.
Hell, she couldn’t even think, much less form coherent speech. Her hips had taken on a mind of their own, grinding her pussy against his leg in frustration, not nearly enough traction on her clit to get her off.
His promise to her flashed to mind. “Please, Sir, I want to feel your mouth on my clit and your tongue in my pussy!”
He lifted his lips from her nipple just long enough to speak. “Better. Keep going.”
“I-I…I need to feel you sucking on my clit, Sir. I need to feel your face between my thighs and want to come for you.”
“More,” he mumbled around her nipple, lightly grazing it with his teeth.
The thumb on her left nipple had turned into his thumb and forefinger lightly pinching, rolling it, more delicious torture yanking her focus back squarely between her legs.
“I need you to please make me come, Sir. Please make me come with your mouth. Please flick your tongue all over my clit and suck on me, Sir. You’ve got me so horny.”
“Your clit, Sir!
“And whose pussy is that?”
He sat up, a deliciously evil smile on his face. “Such a good girl.” Faster than she could process, he’d shoved her thighs apart, ripped the crotch seam of her panties, and his lips closed around her clit.
She let out a gasp, followed by a screaming moan as his tongue started flicking at her clit and drove her instantly into the hardest orgasm she could ever remember having.
And he wasn’t even close to being finished.
He hooked his arms under and around her thighs, holding her tightly immobile as his mouth and tongue and lips explored every inch of real estate down there. She had a flash of gratitude to her brain that she’d thought to shave everything while getting ready earlier before he started working her up to her next orgasm.
Up and down her folds, around her clit, alternating between slow strokes with his tongue and quick flicks that made her gasp, he claimed her. His tongue plunged deep into her pussy, fucking her, giving her a preview of what was to happen later before circling around her clit again.
After the third or fourth climax—she lost count—he let her cool down just enough that he could start building her up again. She’d been trying to squirm away from him, unable to wiggle free, but now he seemed to know just where to plateau.
And she wanted more.
In a few minutes, she was begging, pleading with him to make her come again, and only when he’d decided that she’d done a good enough job of that did he suck on her clit, punting her into the sweet abyss once more.
She lost track of time. When he finally pressed a kiss to her swollen clit and sat up with a satisfied smile on his face, she looked up at him.
He stood, staring down at her as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. “As I told you, sweetheart, there are plenty of ways for a sadist to get his fix. I happen to love hearing you beg.”
He slowly stripped off his shirt and dropped it onto the floor before working on his belt. Another thing she was giving thanks for was getting their safe sex conversation out of the way days earlier. She was on the pill and they were both clean.
Once he was naked, he planted both hands on the mattress on either side of her head and stared down at her. “I think forced orgasm torture will be in your future, sweetheart. Seeing how long I can make you beg before I let you come, and then how hard I can make you beg to get me to stop making you come.”
His grin widened. “Stuff that sweet ass of yours with my cock, put a vibrator in your pussy, and make you come on my cock until you can’t take anymore.” He slid his cock up and down her pussy, along her clit, which was already slick with her juices.
She tried to move her hips to capture his cock, wanting him inside her, and he froze.
“I didn’t tell you you could do that.”
“But Sir, please, I—”
He grabbed her throat again, a brief flare of the good kind of panic sweeping through her and spiking her pulse until she realized that just like before, he wasn’t squeezing.
“Be. My. Good. Girl.”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
Fear and passion and need and a confusing soup of good emotions rolled through her.
Absolutely she trusted him.
Definitely, she was loving this.
It scared her just how much she was loving this.
He finally continued sliding his cock back and forth along her clit, staring into her eyes as he did. “There’s my good girl. Hold still for me. Good girls get rewards.”