Conscience (The Bellator Saga Book 2) by Cecilia London

Author:Cecilia London [London, Cecilia]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Principatum Publishing
Published: 2015-08-17T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

The Fed

Caroline didn’t like euphemisms for sex. She’d been known to drop an f-bomb or twenty when the opportunity presented itself, since profanity was her default setting. Fuck you, fuck me, fuck my brains out, fuck me hard, fuck that shit. Sometimes she meant sex, sometimes she just punctuated her language with profanity.

But she never, ever referred to it as making love. Bringing love into it, even when you had valid reasons? It took all her effort not to giggle or roll her eyes. Sex accompanied by love could be wonderful, even divine, but to talk about it using foofy words and sappy metaphors? That part always made her uncomfortable.

But that’s what Jack had done that night, after they’d finished having sex in the pool. Made love. To her, not with her. He barely needed fifteen minutes before dragging her toward the bedroom and starting in again. He tied her wrists to the bedframe with her swimsuit and teased her until she could barely take it anymore. Then he loosened her bindings and glided in and out of her for what seemed like forever, whispering his version of sweet nothings into her ear.

They ruined the suit. She bought another one. Many more than one, if she remembered correctly. They ruined more than one swimsuit that summer. Not that she ever complained when he behaved that way; when he was in control she felt free and uninhibited, no matter what they were doing in the bedroom. She didn’t know if he was compelled by gratitude, passion, or need, but he spent so much time with his head between her thighs that she could barely crawl out of bed the next morning. She spent years trying to figure out how he could function after nights like that.

It hurt just to think about it. Because there were times when he was tender and sweet, as if afraid he would break her. Other times he would fuck her so hard and fast that the delicious savagery made her want to split apart anyway.

Her brokenness was anything but beautiful now. No wonder, no delight in her eyes. Just a despair that threatened to overtake her spirit with each passing day. She knew she had to fight it. Once she gave in, the darkness would envelop her and she’d never break free.

But it was hard. At night or whenever she neared slumber, reality blurred and her thoughts jumbled. She had no idea whether her visions or dreams were genuine or imaginary. The desolation was tangible and raw, and she knew that one day she’d wake up without even her fantasies to console her.

That fact alone, more than anything else, terrified the fuck out of her.

* * * * *

The next morning Murdock dispensed with the pleasantries. He asked if she was willing to talk, she said no, and the process repeated itself with her right hand. This time, she cried. And hated herself for it. Powell and Fischer laughed when she started to weep. When

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