Mirror of My Soul, Joey Hill [ereader iphone .txt] 📗

What comes out of your mouth most of the time are lies to protect yourself. I look for the pounding of your pulse.” His hand circled her neck, nudging up her chin. She nearly moaned as he zeroed in on the most sensitive part of her as if he had

supernatural intuition. “Breath. Heat. The smell of your cunt, which I know is soaking that excuse for an outfit you’re wearing right now. If those things are saying yes, your lips saying no aren’t going to mean two damns to me. I’ll just find something to shut you up so we can have an honest conversation between us.”

“You’re angry.” It surprised her to understand it, to be reassured by it.

“I was worried. It’s not a crime to have someone care about you. To have that

person get pissed off when they’re worrying about you. If I hadn’t been inside your body, known you weren’t a virgin, the way you pull back when I try to penetrate you in any way would make me think you weren’t just goading me.”

“Goading you about what?”

“That you’ve never had sex.”

18

Mirror of My Soul

“I didn’t say that. You asked me if I’d ever had sex. As if any of that was your business. I answered you truthfully.” At his furrowed brow, she spat it out. “I have never had sex outside of my family. Until you.” She met his look with a hard,

unflinching gaze for once, her battle line drawn. “And don’t go with the pity or psychotherapy, the sexually abused girl who turns into a Dominatrix because she can only experience sex when she holds all the power. Yes, I am the stereotype, the cliché, but I give my subs pleasure. I’m not a sociopath who causes harm.” Then she recalled the past few hours and the incident with Tim. She closed her eyes. “Unless provoked.”

“But who gives you pleasure?” Her spat-out revelation didn’t appear to cause a hitch in his stride, she gave him that. But Tyler was insightful. It would not surprise her if he’d come to an accurate conclusion about her background some time ago. She was, as she herself had just said, a cliché when it came to the dysfunctional symptoms.

“Learning to let go of the control, believing you can trust someone,” he continued.

“That’s key to the pleasure as well as the pain… For some people, it heals old wounds.”

A wound inflicted every morning as soon as awareness hits, as soon as my eyes open? “I can never trust anyone.” It was simple, matter of fact.

“Then maybe, Mistress, you need to be one man’s sub forever so your Master can spend a lifetime proving that you can trust him, if that’s what it takes. One who’s willing to start over every morning with you, healing those wounds as often as they need healing. My intuition says you deserve to be happy.”

He raised her hand, looked at the ragged cuts on her knuckles she’d blotted with a paper towel until the bleeding had stopped. “I’ll pay for the mirror,” she said.

“I think it’s time for you to stop paying debts that were never yours to begin with.”

“I take care of myself.”

“Yes, you do.” His gaze lifted to the tastefully carved wooden Tea Leaves sign hanging over the porch. “You’ve created a life for yourself that is as amazing and fascinating as you are. It’s a reflection of you. All the puzzle pieces there for the person who wants to put them together. But I’m taking care of you now. And I’m going to take very good care of you.”

“You couldn’t save your wife, so you’re going to save me? Like I’m some kind of surrogate, your second chance? I repeat, fuck off, Tyler.”

She could tell that hit home, but he recovered more quickly than she expected. He gazed thoughtfully at her face. She could feel the imprint of his assessment on her strained features, the shadows deep under her eyes.

“You’re not a second chance, Marguerite. You’re an only chance opportunity for a man. For me. What you put in your note, it mattered to me. I appreciated it.”

She lifted her shoulder. “I’m not weak and fragile. I’m not incapable of taking responsibility. You have every right to expect my apology.” She raised her gaze to him, realized she was getting in the habit of meeting his eyes, something she’d never done with anyone. “It would make me really, really angry if you thought I was so delicate you couldn’t demand it.”

19

Joey W. Hill

“I don’t believe you’re fragile that way. And I don’t believe you’re a coward,” he said quietly. “But sometimes I think when you have to be so extraordinarily courageous for so long, the well runs dry when it comes to facing your own desires, the things you want. So you don’t have to be brave about that, or in control.”

She looked at him, a tall handsome man with caring in his eyes, strength in his shoulders outlined against darkness. Something in her simply yearned. When she spoke, her voice was soft, no defenses, no games, just the words that were written on her heart.

“I don’t know how to let someone take care of me, Tyler. I don’t know if I’d be any good at it, if I can ever trust someone that much. And you need that. You deserve it. I see it in your eyes, in all that you are.”

He leaned down further, so they were considering each other eye to eye. Cupping her cheek, he rubbed his thumb over her lips in that way he did, that she knew he liked.

She liked it, too, the way he did it while gazing so steadily into her eyes.

“And I look in your eyes and see everything I could ever want. Trust in that, angel.”

She swallowed, treading into new waters. “I almost didn’t get out of the car.

Thought I’d sleep there until morning. This is as far as I think I can go.”

“I