Read Online Bound (Forbidden Series - Book 1) by Melody Anne - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Melody Anne
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she’d just given him a mind-blowing orgasm, he wanted more. He wanted to feel himself sinking deep within her heat, feel her body cradling him.
Yes, Blake loved sex. He loved all sorts of sex, loved how for ten seconds the only thing he felt was pleasure — no stress, no worries, no thoughts of yesterday or tomorrow. That was his haven in a world that had been less than good to him.
And yes, he enjoyed the buildup to sex. He loved the way it felt to caress a woman’s body, to taste every inch of her skin, to hear her sounds as she was being pleasured. But something was different with the woman standing next to him. He wanted more, and that was unacceptable. She was basically a prostitute, a woman he’d paid for.
Most women were, though, weren’t they? It didn’t matter what their profession was. In the end they were all willing to use what turned men on to get an advantage, to get whatever they could.
He closed his eyes and was suddenly assailed by the sound of his mother screaming in pain. Snapping his eyes back open, he shook his head and forced out the eerie note of her dying voice.
It had been twenty-five years, and the anniversary of their death was approaching. He knew what that meant. He knew the next week was going to be hell. It didn’t matter how much he hardened himself. Nothing helped. Therapists had told him that time healed all wounds — they’d lied.
Time did nothing but haunt him and he’d learned only to numb himself from the pain as a means of self-protection. Like the fight-or-flight response, probably. But you could run on adrenaline for only so long before instinct grew exhausted and couldn’t be your savior anymore. What he felt, what he found to be the only answer to help ease the pain, was sex — lots and lots of sex with many women of all shapes, sizes, and colors. There were times he refused to have his needs met, just to prove to himself he could go without it. Only one thing was for sure — all women were like his mother. They all wanted to gain something, and in the end, they would all lose.
Blake was good at reading people. He knew who he should go into business with and who he shouldn’t. He also knew who he should sleep with and who he shouldn’t. And he knew that he should send Jewell back to where she came from. Immediately.
He just wasn’t ready to do that.
“Go and shower,” he told her, needing a few minutes alone to regroup.
“Okay. Where?”
From her position in the entrance to his living room, she took it all in, her eyes wide. He tried to see the apartment from her point of view. Yes, it was large. Very large. Blake liked having a lot of space. Not much furniture cluttered it up, and he had absolutely no knickknacks.
The only semblance of an emotional connection in the entire room was a framed photo of him and his brothers that was hanging on one wall. Tyler had brought it over while Blake was away, and the pest had hung it up without permission. Blake had vowed to take it down, but it was in the exact same place five years later.
He was reminded of his unfulfilled vow when he saw Jewell gaze at the photograph. He didn’t want her getting any ideas about him, thinking that he was anything other than a cold man with one thing on his mind. The picture showed him smiling, showed a softer side of him. That side wasn’t real. It had just been a moment — a small moment in time. He rarely — very rarely, — allowed such things to happen.
“The shower you will use is up the stairs, third door on the right. That will be your bedroom.”
Jewell jumped at the
Yes, Blake loved sex. He loved all sorts of sex, loved how for ten seconds the only thing he felt was pleasure — no stress, no worries, no thoughts of yesterday or tomorrow. That was his haven in a world that had been less than good to him.
And yes, he enjoyed the buildup to sex. He loved the way it felt to caress a woman’s body, to taste every inch of her skin, to hear her sounds as she was being pleasured. But something was different with the woman standing next to him. He wanted more, and that was unacceptable. She was basically a prostitute, a woman he’d paid for.
Most women were, though, weren’t they? It didn’t matter what their profession was. In the end they were all willing to use what turned men on to get an advantage, to get whatever they could.
He closed his eyes and was suddenly assailed by the sound of his mother screaming in pain. Snapping his eyes back open, he shook his head and forced out the eerie note of her dying voice.
It had been twenty-five years, and the anniversary of their death was approaching. He knew what that meant. He knew the next week was going to be hell. It didn’t matter how much he hardened himself. Nothing helped. Therapists had told him that time healed all wounds — they’d lied.
Time did nothing but haunt him and he’d learned only to numb himself from the pain as a means of self-protection. Like the fight-or-flight response, probably. But you could run on adrenaline for only so long before instinct grew exhausted and couldn’t be your savior anymore. What he felt, what he found to be the only answer to help ease the pain, was sex — lots and lots of sex with many women of all shapes, sizes, and colors. There were times he refused to have his needs met, just to prove to himself he could go without it. Only one thing was for sure — all women were like his mother. They all wanted to gain something, and in the end, they would all lose.
Blake was good at reading people. He knew who he should go into business with and who he shouldn’t. He also knew who he should sleep with and who he shouldn’t. And he knew that he should send Jewell back to where she came from. Immediately.
He just wasn’t ready to do that.
“Go and shower,” he told her, needing a few minutes alone to regroup.
“Okay. Where?”
From her position in the entrance to his living room, she took it all in, her eyes wide. He tried to see the apartment from her point of view. Yes, it was large. Very large. Blake liked having a lot of space. Not much furniture cluttered it up, and he had absolutely no knickknacks.
The only semblance of an emotional connection in the entire room was a framed photo of him and his brothers that was hanging on one wall. Tyler had brought it over while Blake was away, and the pest had hung it up without permission. Blake had vowed to take it down, but it was in the exact same place five years later.
He was reminded of his unfulfilled vow when he saw Jewell gaze at the photograph. He didn’t want her getting any ideas about him, thinking that he was anything other than a cold man with one thing on his mind. The picture showed him smiling, showed a softer side of him. That side wasn’t real. It had just been a moment — a small moment in time. He rarely — very rarely, — allowed such things to happen.
“The shower you will use is up the stairs, third door on the right. That will be your bedroom.”
Jewell jumped at the
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