Break So Soft (Break So Soft Duet Book 2) Page 34

  “Gentry set us both up. He told her it was him who’d be meeting her in his room, and that he liked it kinky with the mask and the Dark Knight bullshit.” Jackson’s face pales, like he might be sick and when he meets my gaze this time, the tear that’s been threatening finally falls down his cheek. “All my dad ever wanted was for me to be a good man. Instead I let Gentry make me a rapist.”

  Oh my God. The devastating reality of what he’s lived with for all these years. Of what Gentry did to him. Of what happened to that girl.

  Quickly I pull the key to the handcuffs out of my bra and undo the restraints at his wrists and ankles. Then I prop myself back on the headboard and pull Jackson into me. He collapses against me, head curled down against my breast and does something I wonder if he’s ever allowed himself since it all happened. His entire body shakes silently. I imagine he’s crying, but he’s so quiet I can’t tell. I stroke his enormous back and wrap as much of my body around him as I can.

  Which is when I feel it. As fucked up as he must be about everything that went down years ago, I’ve gotten him so revved up over the past couple hours, he’s still hard as a rock. His cock is engorged so much it’s got to be almost to the point of pain. Then there’s the matter of the ring I put around his cock and balls, only contributing to the issue.

  I know what needs to be done.

  “Get on all fours.” It comes out in my harshest Domme voice.

  In spite of everything, there’s no hesitation. Jackson drops to the floor, his head sunk low between his shoulders, face to the ground.

  “Did I say get on the ground? I said on all fours,” I snap. “It should have been perfectly obvious I meant on the bed.”

  Jackson winces at the harsh tone of my voice, but gets back on the bed and on his knees. Never once does he look my way. He assumes the position on his knees with a military-like precision. Except for his head, which is bowed so low his forehead scrapes the bed.

  I rear back and give his ass a hard smack. “Head up.”

  His head jerks up, eyes on the wall now.

  “What do you say when I address you, slave?”

  I give him another wallop.

  His body doesn’t even jerk with the impact. “Yes, Mistress.” His voice sounds lifeless.

  That is not acceptable.

  I reach between his legs and grab his hanging cock. He lets out a groan that sounds more like a growl and I feel an answering roar of satisfaction in my chest.

  And then he tries to pull away from my touch. “Mistress no. I’m a fucking monster. You heard— You know now—”

  I grip his cock like a vise the further he tries to move until he half-crumples to the bed. “On your knees,” I demand again.

  This is not Jackson the business mogul, the self-confident dominant man everyone else in the world knows. This is my man stripped down and at his most vulnerable, maybe more than he’s ever been before in his life. Well, at least a moment that he’s shared with someone else.

  I think of the morning he woke up to that girl screaming that he’d raped her. His confusion and terror and the horrible, horrible fear that somehow she was right and he’d done the unthinkable.

  All my dad ever wanted was for me to be a good man. After a life being bumped around the foster care system, landing with his foster parents who eventually adopted him, changed everything for Jackson. Jackson was so close with his adopted dad—from the little he’s told me before, I know it was the emptiness after his death that in part led to Jackson hanging out with Gentry in the first place.

  And then to have the foundation of who you thought you were as a person and as a man questioned and ripped apart. How many years later and Jackson still calls himself a rapist and a monster—the opposite of the legacy his father wanted for him. And all this done by someone who was supposed to be a friend. Betrayal on top of devastation. Jackson didn’t finish the story, I realize. He said he was taken away in cuffs. Obviously it all got settled somehow, though to him, that’s not the important part of the story.

  And I see it now—why Jackson really chose me. In the beginning he did want to save me from Gentry. But not because he saw me as some pitiable whore. He wanted to save me because he himself had been used, manipulated, and at least for a time, broken by Gentry. We’ll both forever bear the scars of that bastard.

  But it’s not all Jackson and I have. We are so much more than the victims Gentry made us.

  I reach out and put a hand on Jackson’s flank, this time not a strike but a gentle touch. We are more than victims, I repeat it to myself to make sure it sticks. We’ve connected on so many deeper levels and become more than the game pieces Gentry tried to craft us into.

  I rub Jackson’s hips with both hands. His cock hangs huge like a horse between his legs and twitches with each deep massage even though my hands are nowhere near it.

  I pause in my ministrations to open my bedside table drawer and pulled out an eye mask. Usually I like seeing his eyes, but for this, I want him completely lost in the sensory experience. I place the dark fabric over his head and make sure it’s secure over his eyes so that he can’t see anything. Once I’m satisfied, I go back to my bag and grab a couple other items. Then I return, drop the items by his feet and continue my massage.

  I’ve tortured him long enough. Probably too long. I never intended this session to be so lengthy but then, of course I should have planned on Jackson’s stubbornness.

  Dripping some lube onto my fingers, I dip my forefinger into the pucker of his ass.

  A low moan escapes me as my slippery, lubed-up finger presses up against the tight ring. The ass is so forbidden. I don’t know why that immediately makes it ten times hotter, but it does and I go with it.

  “Open up and let me in, you sexy fuck,” I command.

  At my words, his body relaxes and my finger instantly slips in. Oh God. It’s so tight and hot.

  I lift up on my knees and lean over his back even as a second finger joins the first. It’s a slightly tighter fit, but I’m lubed up and determined. Leaning on him as I am, I can feel his shudder as it goes through him. I join him as he moans.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, I push my fingers in and out. “I’m inside of you. Can you fucking feel me? Inside you this time.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” His voice is little more than a croak.

  “That’s right,” I coax. “Let it out. I don’t want you to be quiet. I want to hear noise. I want you to be an animal underneath me. Don’t analyze. Just fucking feel. That’s a command.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Good.” I pull back so I’m sitting more firmly planted on the bed and have better leverage with my fingers.

  The key isn’t to just push in and out, I know. Instead, I go in a little ways and then start pressing down on his prostate gland. The G-spot for men. That’s where I start massaging back and forth, keeping firm pressure.

  A shocked noise chokes out of Jackson’s mouth and I smile. Good. I’ll take that to mean I found the spot. I’ve heard you can make men come from this alone, but I’m not in the mood for experimenting.

  I have a very specific goal here. I’m going to make Jackson Vale come harder than he ever has in his entire fucking life.

  I continue with my fingers for just a moment longer before pulling out. Quickly, I lube up the prostate stimulator I grabbed from my bag. These things are supposed to be intense as hell for a man. Just what I’m looking for to push Jackson to the highest high possible.

  “I’m not hearing you,” I say. Grabbing his steel cock in one hand, I start jacking him off. I don’t bother to be gentle. Hard as he is, I bet he wouldn’t even feel gentle at this point. Once he’s good and rutting against my hand, I work the toy in his ass. For a second I’m not sure he feels it either so I maneuver it and press down on his gland. Then I turn it to its most intense vibration setting and click it on.

  His body lurches so hard, it’s like I shocked him with a stun gun. The bed bounces and it takes my beauty pageant balanc
e training not to be knocked off my knees and faceplant on the bed.

  “Fuuuuuuuuuck!” Jackson roars.

  This time it’s me left panting, wetness all but spurting between my legs. His ass flexes in front of my eyes as he bucks into my hand. I do my best to keep up, rubbing up and down his shaft that’s so thick, my fingers don’t even touch where I’m wrapped around him.

  The bed board bangs every time he lunges into my hand. I find a perch half-curved around his body so I don’t fall onto the bed or lose my grip. With one hand, I work his cock and with the other, I press the vibrating prostate stimulator down mercilessly.

  He continues yelling, but it’s just grunting gibberish like he can’t help but vocalizing, maybe just because I ordered him to. He’s desperate. Wild. Uncontrolled.

  Mine.

  His whole body goes tight, he’s flexed from his neck down to his outstretched toes. God, he’s right on the edge of blowing.

  “Say you’re a good man,” I demand. “Say it or you can’t come.” I squeeze the head of his dick, a trick to ruin orgasm even if he’s right at the brink.

  He growls through his teeth and throws back his head, shaking it no.

  “Say it because your Mistress commands it and because it’s fucking true,” I shout at him. “Say it!”

  “I’m a good man!” he shouts back.

  “That’s right! Now come!” I massage his cock the way I know he likes best, back and forth over the rim, paying special attention with my thumb to the vein right underneath the head. I rotate the stimulator down on his gland and put as much pressure as I can. I press my chest into his back and shout, “Mine!” into his ear.

  Jackson gives one last thunderous bellow and then ropes of creamy cum explode all over my hand.

  His whole body tenses as he comes, every muscle and vein straining and then the room that had been so filled with grunts and shouting just seconds ago is… suddenly very quiet. There’s just both of us panting.

  I expect Jackson to collapse after what I’ve just put him through, but he stays there, on his knees if slightly slumped. His back is sweat-slicked. Well, his entire body is. I push my hair back from my eyes and realize I’m wet with sweat too.

  I slip the stimulator out of him and I’m about to say something to break the quiet… or no, I still need to be Domme for a little while longer, I should be in aftercare mode, checking in with him and making sure he’s okay—

  “Now you.” Jackson’s voice is so low it’s half a growl.

  He reaches over with his left hand and jerks back the comforter to reveal silken maroon sheets below. The next second, he rolls me so that my back is on the sheets. He kicks the comforter soiled with his release off the bed. Immediately, he’s on top of me, bulging arms on both sides of my body.

  His cock, which is somehow still hard after his explosive release, nudges at my slick entrance. I grin in readiness.

  But then his right hand comes to my throat in a chokehold.

  I jerk beneath him in surprise, immediately gasping for breath. He loosens his hold slightly so that I can manage the barest gasp. But once I’ve got it, his grip cinches tight again.

  Then he enters me. He grinds his body low and deep so that the contact against my clit is fantastic. I blink rapidly. It’s all so much—almost too much.

  He thrusts several times. Oh God, it feels so good. I try to suck in air but Jackson’s firm hand at my throat keeps me from getting in anything except the barest wheeze.

  I stare at him. He’s wearing his stern Dom face. His arm muscle glistens as he dominates me completely. I squelch around his cock because the sight is the most fucking erotic thing I’ve ever seen or even considered.

  Except. I can’t— Need breath—

  And in a flash I’m back in the room. Arms holding me down. Men surrounding me. Inside me. I can’t breathe! No, not again! Not again!

  I grab the arm holding me down and struggle—

  The grip immediately loosens and—

  It’s Jackson. I blink.

  Of course it’s Jackson. His dark eyes meet mine. The vulnerability when I broke him down earlier is still there, underneath the Dom.

  “Do you trust me?”

  Oh God. He has no idea what he’s asking. I meet his searching gaze and take a deep breath in. Air. Precious air.

  Together he’s helped me take back so much of what they stole. Is it possible to gain this last territory? My very breath?

  I take one last gulp of air. Then look him straight in the eye. “I trust you.” My voice doesn’t even tremble as I say it.

  I release my death grip on his hand around my throat and lift my arms above my head in surrender. I don’t miss the look that comes over his face either—relief but also empowerment, like I’ve just given him what he needs to truly be not just a Dom in this moment, but to be a man. A good man. I could tell him I believe it until I’m blue in the face, but maybe he’ll never believe it until I prove it. Because if I thought he were in any way an actually violent man capable of rape, I would never trust him to do this. Can we both take back what Gentry stole from us in this one act?

  Goddammit, I’m going to try. So no matter how fucking terrified I am of putting my very breath in someone else’s hands—for Jackson and only Jackson—I’m not just going to try. I will do this.

  My entire body trembles as his grip on my neck cinches tight again. “The most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs as he begins to thrust inside me with torturous slowness. Every time he bottoms out, he swivels his hips around and around until I’m keening with pleasure. Against his grip at my throat, my cries only come out as choked half-whimpers.

  Which makes the whole thing even more bizarrely fucking hot.

  Jackson starts moving faster. He hisses through his teeth as his body fuses with mine, panting as he holds himself up with one arm beside my head, the other hand held unflinchingly against the base of my throat.

  And God it feels—there’s absolutely no more room in my head for reflection. I’ve moved to that place where it’s all sensation. My eyes are on Jackson’s. The world’s becoming fuzzy at the edges as the pleasure ramps up and up and oohhhhhhh—

  My back arches and I lift one leg to wrap around Jackson’s hip. Closer. I need to be closer to him in any way I can. In every way. I’d do anything for him.

  Everything narrows. Light shimmers around us. There’s only him. All the feelings. Pleasure, but so much more. Oh God. Tears slip down my cheeks.

  Him. Him. Him. Only him.

  Spots dance in my vision as my climax lights me up. He notices, of course he does because he’s in tune with me. We have become one.

  He releases my throat and I take in a gulp of oxygen that’s like lighter fluid on the flame of my orgasm. It erupts from within like a flash fire.

  I pull Jackson down to me and sink my teeth in his shoulder as I screech out my pleasure. He pounds me with several more punishing thrusts as I ride out what’s the longest orgasm of my life and then I feel his body shudder as he comes with me. I’m still spasming in aftershocks around him even after he’s flipped us to the side and pulled me on top of him so that he’s not crushing me.

  “I—” I try, but then close my mouth because there are no words after what we just experienced. They aren’t necessary anyway, I realize. We just communed in the deepest way two human beings possibly can.

  Jackson’s fingers play with my hair and for once, I’m the one who drops off to sleep first.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  CALLIE

  Things between Jackson and I stay good all week. Except for the fact that I still haven’t told him that Gentry tried blackmailing me to steal his prototype. But, really, is there any need to at this point? Because I’m not doing it. Everything that happened last weekend made a few things very clear.

  What Jackson and I have is too important to throw away. He told me he loves me. And after what Gentry did to him… God, there’s no way I could betray him on Gentry’s beha
lf. I just can’t.

  That video Gentry’s threatening me with is despicable and yes, it might color the judge’s opinion of me, but with my kick-ass lawyers, it won’t be admissible in court. My lawyers. I have to remember I have the best. If I play it right, maybe Jackson doesn’t ever even have to know about what’s on that tape. God, the thought of him seeing me like that…

  Maybe there’s something else I could do so it won’t even come to Gentry releasing the tape. Granted, I have less than a week to come up with a brilliant plan. Charlie’s custody trial is next Thursday. Unfortunately, every pseudo-plan I’ve thought up so far gets shot down within half an hour of further research.

  If I try to give Gentry fake code, he’ll test it and realize it’s crap within a day. Same thing if I give him an old version of the firmware. He’d quickly find the same problems with Falcon Six that we saw in our last demo.

  I’ve thought about giving him the real version, but with some kind of virus that would infect his whole system and put the company out of commission for a few weeks. Problem is, I only know how to code some basic Trojans that are the kind of low-level thing that Gentry’s malware detection software would pick up like that.

  It’s not like there’s a Hackers 101 class at Stanford where you learn that kind of shit. Even if I spent every second in the next hundred hours or however much time I have left learning everything I can about how to sneak a virus into the firmware undetected, it’s nothing that couldn’t eventually be sorted.

  And in the meantime, Gentry would know I was fucking with him and voila, the video still gets released.

  My phone beeps with a reminder I have an unread text. From Gentry. I’ve been ignoring it for the last thirty minutes but I doubt he’ll allow it for much longer. From the preview, I saw that he’s asking when I want to meet to exchange the prototype for the blackmail video.