The Darkness Within Him: The Untwisted series Read online

  ‘It felt so good to fuck you without a condom,’ he muttered hotly into my hair, causing me to agree with an appreciative moan. How he managed to sound so freaking sexy when he was being that crude I had no idea, but he did, and I loved it.

  After a while, Nicholas gently removed me from his arms and headed into the bathroom, leaving me feeling decidedly unsure what to do now. I wanted him to stay the night but even though we’d had sex so many times now, he’d never given any indication that he wanted to spend an entire night with me, so, knowing he would no doubt be wanting to leave, I reluctantly slipped from the bed and began to pull my T-shirt on.

  Emerging from the bathroom, he paused when he saw me dressing and an unreadable expression crossed his face. Was it regret? God, I wished I were better at reading him, or just brave enough to ask him how he really felt.

  ‘That’s a pretty impressive bathroom,’ Nicholas commented, before tilting his head and observing me for several seconds. ‘Shower with me before I leave?’ he asked suddenly, sounding vaguely uncertain about whether I’d accept or just chuck him out.

  First, his protective little show of turning up to see me because I was upset; now, showering together … Nicholas was confusing me – nothing new there – but he was acting almost like a boyfriend again and I had to forcibly remind myself that he really only wanted me for the sex.

  Realising I’d been silent for several seconds, I answered him by removing my T-shirt again and smiling shyly up at him. We’d done so many things together in bed that showering with him shouldn’t be embarrassing for me, but for some reason it felt much more intimate as I took his hand and followed him into my walk-in shower.

  Nicholas flicked on the taps, yelping like a child as cold water cascaded over him. He grabbed me, practically rugby tackling me backwards as he tried to escape the chilled spray.

  I couldn’t help it; I began to laugh, attempting to smother my mirth with my hand as I saw Nicholas scowling at me. Then he relented and grinned along with me.

  ‘I should have warned you, it does that. Here …’ I reached past his goosepimpled skin and adjusted the tap toward the blue arrow – my taps did the opposite of what they were supposed to – causing warm water to splutter from the shower head and then gush over Nicholas’ chilled skin.

  Sighing contentedly, he slid a wet hand around my shoulders and tugged me under the water for a soft kiss, after which he covered my jaw and neck with feather-light touches of his lips before placing a kiss on the corner of my mouth that suddenly deepened into something far more passionate.

  When he broke the kiss several minutes later, I saw he had somehow picked up my sponge and shower gel from the glass shelf and was smiling broadly at me. If I hadn’t been wet in the shower, I might well have grabbed my camera at this point to record his playful mood for posterity, because boy, did he look good when he was grinning like this.

  ‘I would like to wash you,’ he told me, before squirting a big blob of orange blossom shower gel on to the sponge and squeezing it, causing bubbles to dribble from his hand. ‘Turn around,’ he instructed, and once again under his spell, I did so immediately. ‘I’ll do your back first.’ He paused. ‘Your breasts would be far too distracting,’ he murmured, dropping a kiss on my shoulder.

  I sighed contentedly. ‘This is my favourite shower gel. I love the scent of orange blossom,’ I murmured as he began to lather my shoulders.

  The sensation of Nicholas carefully washing my back was somehow relaxing while also thrilling at the same time. It occurred to me this was probably the most gentle he’d ever been with me, caring almost, but I tried to focus on enjoying it and not allowing myself to read too much into it.

  Once Nicholas had thoroughly worked my back, neck, and legs over with the sponge, he wrapped a soapy hand around my waist and bent his lips close to my ear.

  ‘Turn.’ His one-word command was so soft I almost didn’t hear it, but the gentle coaxing of his hand on my hip alerted me to what he wanted me to do and I slowly spun around to face him again, my thigh brushing against his jutting erection as I did so.

  The dark expression on his face was matched with an equally intense fire in his eyes, and as he began to slowly, sensually wash my shoulders, his eyes never once left mine. I felt almost as if he was worshipping me with his actions and it was a completely euphoric feeling, even though deep down I knew it was really just a run-up to something sexual.

  Dropping the sponge, Nicholas began to massage his soapy hands over my clenched stomach, slowly making his way up to my eager breasts and sensitive nipples. Oh, this was so heavenly I couldn’t help but moan out loud. My sound apparently drove Nicholas’ careful control over the edge because suddenly he ceased his washing and pressed me back against the tiled wall, which was warm from the cascading water.

  At the same time as kissing me soundly on the lips, Nicholas lifted my hips and eased himself inside me, before he proceeded to thrust into me so gently and beautifully that for the first time it was almost like he was making love to me and not just fucking me.

  It was like being with a completely different man. Trying desperately not to let myself get carried away with the marked contrast in Nicholas’ behaviour since we’d entered the bathroom, I concentrated instead on enjoying the seemingly endless surprises of the man now buried inside me and clutching me against him.

  Chapter Seven

  Even if the shower experience goes down in history as one of my best-ever sexual encounters to date, I should have twigged then how weird Nicholas was because after it, he had returned to the bedroom with a peculiar expression on his face, closed himself off again, dressed rapidly, and left.

  Just like that.

  If I hadn’t already been totally confused about what was occurring between us, I certainly was after that night.

  It was just as well my office was poorly lit because a tear escaped from my eye and dribbled pathetically down my pale cheek, not that anyone was here to see it. I’d shed so many tears in the last three weeks that I was actually quite surprised that I wasn’t dehydrated by now.

  Wiping the tear from my face, I recalled crying after he’d left that night too. It probably resulted from the stress of the day, Mr Peterson the jerk at work, and then my muddled emotions over Nicholas. He’d seemed so loving in the shower and then so distant five minutes later that I had been left reeling. In truth, I still was; he was just so damn changeable it was impossible to keep up with.

  At my piano lesson the following week, Nicholas had seemed relatively normal. Although “normal” for Nicholas meant dominant, brisk, and intense, with glimpses of a protective, softer, almost caring side popping up every now and then. Deep down there had still been a part of me wondering just how much he was holding back from me and his words, “you wouldn’t like dominant Nicholas, I don’t think I do,” had kept nagging at me when I’d allowed them to.

  One thing I’ve learnt from this whole mess with Nicholas is that in future I need to trust my gut instincts and act on them. In fact, I’d printed out that very motto and stuck it on the wall of my office to remind me never to make the same stupid mistake again, and my stinging eyes glanced at it now as I chewed on my lip.

  As well as Nicholas’ authoritative personality and assertiveness in the bedroom, I had on occasion seen traces of his temper and dominant side spreading beyond our sex sessions. It only added to my slight fear of what he might be like if he really flipped. I had been so torn, often thinking things along the lines of whether I should stick with him and hope to break his hard shell, or get out while I could and lick my wounds.

  Given the outcome of our messy little affair, I now know the answer, but unfortunately, my obsession with Nicholas Jackson hadn’t allowed me to walk away as my gut had told me to.

  I cringed, remembering back to a prime example of his easily erupting jealous anger. Then I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, as I grudgingly had to accept the slight feeling of arousal that this particular memory also brought with it.
r />   I’d been having lessons with Nicholas for over three months, and we’d been having sex afterwards for the past eight weeks, but still neither of us had brought up the discussion of exactly where we stood. As far as I was concerned, from all he’d said we were merely “fuck buddies”: not a particularly nice term, but appropriate for what Nicholas and I did together. After all, seeing someone once a week for sex could hardly be called a steady relationship, could it?

  We never did things couples might do, like go to the cinema or for meals together, and rarely spoke in between our Friday-night meetings. Even then, we simply pretended to learn a bit of piano then shagged each other silly for an hour or two before I left.

  Yep, this type of situation was definitely wholly new and unknown for me. I’d never done anything as reckless as sleep with a random man, especially one I wasn’t even in a relationship with! Goodness, what would my mother say! But with Nicholas, I didn’t seem to be able to help myself; it was as though I was growing addicted to him.

  My heart was growing more attached by the day too, and I was starting to want more. Nicholas was like a drug: I didn’t seem to be able to get enough, and even though my brain was repeatedly warning me to get away from him and his dominant side, I couldn’t seem to stop our arrangement or finish my lessons and end my weekly visits to him.

  That night, as I lay flaked out from a particularly lively sex session, I did something that happens often to me: I let my mouth say what I was thinking before I had considered it properly.

  ‘So, do you have a submissive at the moment, then?’ I asked, trying to keep the jealousy from my tone. I’d wondered this on several occasions recently. Seeing as I certainly wasn’t fulfilling that need in Nicholas’s life, maybe he had someone else who did? As soon as I spoke, I realised that he probably didn’t, seeing as he’d said he was all clear to have sex with me without condoms. But it was too late; I’d already said it.

  Unless he just had a submissive to order around and punish in his house … Ugh, what a thought.

  Although an even worse thought was Nicholas in bed with another woman – any woman, submissive or not. That just made my guts clench with jealousy, but I had to admit I was still curious as to what the whole “submissive” thing might entail that was different from what he and I did together. He’s not your boyfriend; you have no right to be jealous of him, I reminded myself bitterly.

  ‘No, of course not.’ His tone seemed strained somehow and I tipped my head up from the pillow to look at him to see why. He was standing half dressed in his shirt and boxer shorts, looking ridiculously sexy … but as my eyes made it to his face I saw he also appeared to be ridiculously mad as he glared at me and tightened his fists into clenched balls by his side.

  Holy shit. What had I done or said to make him look so furious?

  ‘Are you seeing other men as well as me?’ he suddenly demanded, stalking around the bed toward me, his intense gaze never leaving mine. ‘You said I was your first in over a year,’ he stated, in a deadly tone.

  ‘I wasn’t aware we were seeing each other – I thought we just fucked once a week,’ I remarked with a sweet smile, attempting to lighten his mood, but boy, what a big, huge, enormous, mistake that had been. Within seconds of my flippant remark, Nicholas had leapt onto the bed and was straddling me. My arms were trapped against my sides by his legs and my head was held immobile by a firm thumb on my chin.

  ‘Answer me,’ he growled, ‘are you fucking other people?’ His eyes were boring into me; fury, pure and undiluted, was radiating from every pore. He was, in short, absolutely livid and I thought that perhaps I was getting a little taster of dominant Nicholas in all his glory.

  ‘No,’ I whispered, attempting to shake my head, but unable to move it under his firm grasp. Shit, I was completely helpless and actually quite scared by his incredible strength.

  ‘Not that guy at the book shop?’ he demanded, confusing me utterly. Guy? What guy? A customer I’d mentioned, perhaps, or Robin who worked the Saturday shift?

  ‘Which guy?’ I asked, briefly forgetting about my pinned position.

  ‘The arsehole who answered the phone when I called the other day,’ he snarled. ‘He asked who I was, sounded pissed off. He clearly wants to sleep with you, Rebecca.’ He could tell all this from one brief phone conversation? And when had he called me? I’d never spoken to Nicholas at work, never. Had he been phoning to check up on me? Seeing his glare, I decided now wasn’t the best time to broach that particular subject.

  ‘Robin?’ I mused out loud; no other men ever answered the phone at the shop so it had to be him. ‘No,’ I answered, wanting to shake my head but still unable to.

  ‘Don’t lie to me,’ he warned quietly but in a tone that made my blood feel icy in my veins. ‘I will punish you if you are lying, Rebecca.’

  ‘I’m not lying, Nicholas,’ I said in a squeaky tone. ‘We went out for a drink about three years ago but when he asked me out again I told him I wasn’t interested.’ Rather than getting defensive about him prying so forcefully into my private life I found the truth just rolled from my tongue.

  ‘Did you fuck him?’ he asked, his voice deathly quiet, the grip on my chin increasing to the point where I thought I might bruise tomorrow.

  ‘No, of course not! I didn’t even kiss him!’ I shot back. I might have opened up sexually with Nicholas in recent months but I was a long way from being a slut of any kind, and I certainly hadn’t lied when I’d told him I’d only slept with two other guys in the past. ‘If he still likes me now, then it’s not because I’ve been encouraging him,’ I added defiantly.

  Nicholas sat glaring at me for several seconds as if trying to gauge if I were telling the truth or not. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he dragged air into his lungs but all I could do was look back at him with wide, honest eyes, trying to implore him to believe me.

  ‘I’m not seeing anyone else, Nicholas, only you,’ I assured him again in a more persuasive voice. In hindsight, it was probably the answer I should have given earlier instead of the smartass remark I’d made to him. Idiot.

  Nicholas leant over me and, using his grip on my chin, dragged my head up for a blistering kiss. In his rush, our teeth clashed briefly, but I kissed him back desperately, trying to show him he was the only one for me. How ironic this all was because if Nicholas knew just how attached I had become to him these last months, he would no doubt throw me out of bed quicker than a bedbug.

  ‘You only fuck me,’ he ordered against my lips. ‘No one else. Understand?’

  ‘Yes …’ I panted, bemused by the odd claim he seemed to making over me when he had been the one to state that he didn’t do relationships. I wriggled below him, trying to free my arms so I could touch him and reassure him, but in the blink of an eye Nicholas was off me, pulling my body from under the sheets and turning me over so I was kneeling in front of him, facing the wall.

  ‘Grip the headboard,’ he instructed. Sensing his urgency I did so immediately, taking hold of the cold, wrought-iron frame tightly in my trembling fingers.

  ‘Hold on tight, I’m going to remind you why you only want to fuck me,’ he whispered hoarsely, and then, with no warning or warm-up, he thrust inside me hard and fast from behind. Holy shit, it was just as well I was still wet from our activities earlier or that would have really hurt.

  One of Nicholas’ hands reached round and began to tease my nipple with a series of hard pinches and tweaks, while his other hand gripped my shoulder to give him something to pull against. There was none of his usual grace or skill; instead this seemed to be more primal, rough round the edges like a lion claiming his mate or something.

  Nicholas’ rhythm was demanding from the outset and almost seemed to be punishing me for being cheeky to him, but as I held on to the headboard and joined in his rhythm, I realised I was loving every single hard, body-bruising second of it. What had this man done to me?

  ‘Ahh, Nicholas …’ I gasped, as his hand left my breast, travelling do
wn across my stomach where it began to work similar magic on my clitoris, rubbing soft circles across the swollen nub.

  ‘Say my name again – louder,’ he insisted raggedly.

  ‘Nicholas!’ I cried, louder and clearer, and in response, his fingers increased their pressure on both my shoulder and clit until I could feel the imminent explosion inside me building.

  Suddenly, Nicholas removed his fingers and buried himself deep inside me, before stilling completely as he curled around my back, gripping me protectively against his sweat-slicked body. ‘Who fucks you?’ he demanded, his voice low and his breath hot against my back.

  Talk about possessive! Dominant Nicholas was well and truly out to play tonight.

  ‘You!’ I yelped, between ragged breaths. ‘Only you, Nicholas!’ As soon as I had spoken, he groaned against my shoulder and picked up his hard, plunging rhythm again, driving me wild with both his strokes and his fingers until I climaxed powerfully, screaming his name and clutching at the bedframe while he powered toward a violent climax of his own that had us both collapsing flat onto the bed.

  ‘I love it when you scream my name,’ Nicholas murmured into my hair between his gasped breaths.

  Unable to reply, I simply grunted as I lay on my stomach, flattened like a pancake below his weight, while we attempted to recover from his onslaught. God, I would be walking like John Wayne tomorrow.

  ‘So, I take it possessiveness and jealousy are traits of your dominant personality, then?’ I panted. Jeez, what was it with my sarcasm? I just couldn’t seem to stop!

  Thankfully, this time I heard him laugh deeply against my back, the rumble passing through my skin before he landed a playful slap on my left buttock.

  ‘Get used to it, baby,’ he murmured against my shoulder, rubbing my bum soothingly and massaging it with his strong fingers.

  Baby? Had he really just called me that? And what did he mean, get used to it? Did that mean he liked having me around, or just wanted more sex? Once again, I was left utterly confused by the bewildering man currently buried inside me.