‘I do understand, Jesse, because I feel the same!’ I yell. ‘Even though you’ve fucked me over completely, I still fucking love you and I fucking hate myself for it. So don’t you dare tell me I don’t understand!’
‘It’s not possible.’ He grasps the tops of my arms and pulls me forward on a hiss. ‘It’s just not fucking possible!’ His voice is severe. He really does believe that.
I let him pull me into his chest and smother me, but I can’t even put my arms around him. I’m emotionally drained and completely numb. My strong, dominant playboy is reduced to a frightened, desperate soul. I want my fierce Jesse back.
‘I’m going to get something to clean you up with.’ I struggle from his fighting arms. ‘Jesse, I need to clean you up.’
‘Don’t walk away from me.’
I break free and stand myself up. ‘I said I would never leave you. I meant it.’ I turn and leave him on his knees, walking from his office in a complete daze.
I’m not going to get anything to clean his back up. A bit of attention on his wounds is not going to prove anything. There is only one way I can get him to comprehend that I understand how he feels. And if that’s what it takes, then I’ll do it.
Chapter 31
I bypass the toilets, the busy bar and the restaurant quickly. I don’t need to be seeing Kate, or any of the others, for that matter. And if I clap eyes on Sarah, then I’m likely to end up at a police station because I won’t stop thrashing her with that whip until I’ve sliced her in half. Anyway, it won’t be long before he comes looking for me, so I need to be quick.
I reach the entrance hall and take the stairs two at a time, walking quickly around the gallery landing and ignoring the women’s harsh stares. But then I spot her. I know I should keep going. I know I should resist the temptation to throttle her, but the overwhelming urge gets the better of me.
I approach her. She’s chatting to a few female members, no doubt filling them in on the events of the past hour. She’s still kitted out in her leather gear, whip still in hand. I stop behind her, the other women silencing immediately. Obviously curious to the sudden halt in conversation, she turns to face me. Her expression is superior, with a little sick satisfaction mixed in there too. My blood boils as she stands in front of me, relaxed in her pose, twirling the whip in her grasp.
‘You sent me a text from John’s phone.’ I accuse calmly.
She almost laughs. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Of course you don’t.’ I shake my head disbelievingly. ‘You also let me into The Manor when I discovered the communal room.’
‘Now, why would I do that?’ she asks cockily.
‘Because you want him.’ My voice is amazingly calm, considering my blood is boiling and I’m physically shaking. I can feel the other women’s stares burning through my skin. I spread my gaze over all of them. ‘You all want him.’
None of them say a word. They all stand there watching me, probably anticipating my next move.
Sarah can’t keep her trap shut, though. ‘No, little girl, we’ve all had him.’
I snap.
My fist bunches and flies out, cracking her clean across her botox pumped face, sending her staggering back on her heels and to her arse. I don’t stop there. I grab her hair in the most unladylike, cattish fashion and haul her up, pinning her against the wall by her throat. Shocked gasps ring out through the air before silence falls and the only sound is Sarah’s stunned breathing.
‘You EVER lay a finger on him again, requested or not, and I won’t stop until I’ve snapped every bone in your fucking body. Do you understand me?’
Her eyes are wide. I can feel her shaking under my hold.
‘DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?’ I scream the words in her face. I’ve lost control.
‘Yes.’ she squeaks quietly, shifting under my vice grip of her throat. I’m restricting her breathing.
I release her and she crumbles to the floor in a heap of leather, gasping and gripping at her neck. I’m shaking with anger as I turn and absorb the shocked expressions of many witnesses, all standing in stunned silence. I don’t need to say anymore. I’ve made my point pretty clear to Sarah and every other person stood observing my meltdown. I leave them all and carry on my way to my original destination, shaking violently, breathing heavily. As I reach the bottom of the stairs to the communal room, I waiver for a few seconds, but as soon as I remember Jesse’s words, I race up the stairs with nothing but adrenalin and determination coursing through my veins.
I enter the dimly lit communal room, ignoring the few scenes playing out in front of me, while trying to blank out the erotic music that’s invading my hearing. I’m not here to be turned on. I head to the right and find myself where I want to be.
Two men, I recognise neither, are talking quietly while a women puts her underwear back on. I approach the scene and they all turn their attention on me, the conversation ceasing as I get closer. One of the men watches me cautiously while the other eyes me approvingly, his face breaking out into a dark smile. I kick my shoes off and pull my t-shirt up over my head before throwing it to the floor and unfastening my jeans.
‘Come to play, sweetness?’ One of the men drawls as he starts towards me.
‘Steve, leave her.’ The other guy warns. He clearly recognises me. I throw him a filthy look, and he shakes his head. ‘Steve, you need to leave her.’
‘She wants to play, don’t you, sweetness?’ His eyes are dark but sparkling at me.
‘She’s Jesse’s girl, Steve. It’s not worth it.’ His friend tries to reason with Steve, but he looks like he’s on a mission and doesn’t like being told what to do, which is just what I need.
‘All’s fair in sex and The Manor.’ Steve quips on a smirk. ‘What can I give you, sweetness?’
‘Seriously, Steve, she’s special to him.’
‘She’s special all right. Now she can be special for me too. Ward has never had an issue with sharing before.’
His words stir the bile that’s coating my throat, and I watch as the sensible man grasps the woman’s arm and pulls her away with a cautious look all over his face. This Steve, though, he’s cocky and confident, but not in an attractive way. Not that it matters. I’m not planning on kissing the man.
I walk over to the stand by the wall and pick out the fiercest looking whip I can find before turning and handing it to him with steady hands. Any reluctance will foil me and this is the only way that I can demonstrate to Jesse how crazy all of this shit is. His face spreads into a wide smile as he accepts the whip and runs his eyes down my semi nakedness. I remove my jeans and walk over to stand myself under the suspended gold frame and hold my hands above my head. ‘No contact, just the whip. Hard.’ My voice is clear and totally resolute. I feel resolute. I have no fear or hesitations at all.
‘Hard?’ he asks.
‘Very hard.’
‘What about your bra?’ His eyes are fixed firmly on my chest.
‘The bra stays.’
‘Fair enough.’ He nods and saunters over, tucking the handle of the whip in his back pocket. He reaches up to secure my hands in the manacles on the gold suspended frame.
‘Steve, you need to stop.’
‘It’s none of your business.’ I grate.
‘You heard her, she wants this.’ Steve looks up at me with hooded eyes filled with lust, before he starts walking around the back of me.
My heart starts a heavy, steady thump in my chest and I close my eyes, reciting Jesse’s words in my mind.
It’s not possible. It’s not possible. It’s not possible. It’s not possible.
I blank my mind of everything except that, the music fades and I brace myself for my own punishment – my punishment for reducing Jesse to a fraught mess of a man, for making him need alcohol, not just want it, for turning him into an uptight, neurotic freak…for making him do this to himself.
I hear it before I feel it. A fast, sharp whip though the air before it connects with my back. I cry out.
Holy fucking shit!
The thrash sends a continuous stabbing pain radiating throughout my entire body and my legs turn to jelly. People volunteer themselves for this? I’ve volunteered for this? I keep my eyes firmly shut. It’s only now I realise that we didn’t agree on a number of strikes. I hold my breath and grit my teeth as a second lash falls across my back, and I mentally plead with myself to keep quiet and accept the beating.
I tense myself, waiting for the next hit and when it comes, I release my body, hanging helplessly from the frame. I’m at the complete mercy of this stranger. The fourth, fifth and six thrashes connect at even intervals until I’m familiar with when to expect the strikes, and I’ve completely numbed out what I’m doing. I’m completely crazy. I’m totally unaware of my surroundings, the music is dull in the distance and the voices around me are quiet. The only thing I’m alert of is the timing between each lash and the air whipping before the leather connects with my flesh. I might be unconscious. I’m not sure. I’m not even tensing anymore.
Another thrash connects with my back and I jerk again, my back arching, my head flying back.