Blyssful Lies (The Blyss Trilogy 2)

He berated me as if I was some two-year-old who needed to be put in line, and then to top it all off, he humiliated me by stripping me bare in front of a complete stranger. I couldn’t believe how my own body betrayed me, allowing itself to give in to the Blyss, and then worse, give in to him. I don’t know how long it will take before this poison filters out of my system, but it won’t be a minute too soon.

The three-strikes-and-you’re-out theory took effect when he brought Adam’s name into the equation. What he said pushed me over the edge. Memories came flooding back into my mind of everything he so unapologetically ripped from my life. So being my impulsive little self, I stupidly threw all caution to the wind, allowing my blind rage to take precedence, exacerbating the situation.

With Travis hating me now anyway, I felt I had nothing to lose and nothing to gain by acting on my anger. Some of the pent up and left over frustration Travis had put me through most likely contributed to the tipping of the scales. Nick, however, was the catalyst that precipitated the final blow, making me lose my cool, and I have no doubt this outburst is going to cost me dearly. Why the hell couldn’t I just let sleeping dogs lie? I think he was completely satisfied with the punishment he just doled out, but no. I just had to open my big mouth.

Nick’s lips twist into a cruel smirk, then his eyes narrow on mine as his heated anger bores a hole right through me. “You should never bite off more than you can chew, Julianna, because I am a lot to swallow.” Then his lips twist in a cruel smirk. “So many implements to choose from,” he begins as he rubs his jaw in false contemplation. His eyes scan over the length of the wall as he looks for just the right torture device. I can plainly see he wants to taunt me first as he blatantly digs into the depths of my fear.

I follow his smooth movements as he walks toward the wall, and watch with growing fear and trepidation. He reaches out, running an index finger down the length of a long leather whip. Nick then turns back to me as he raises an eyebrow in question, and I feel the little hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end. “I wonder…should I use a flogger, a cane, or a paddle on your bare ass?”

My eyes bolt wide open, and my gut clenches. Panic is evident in my voice as I whisper shakily, “Please, no.”

Nick takes a couple of steps forward, infringing upon my personal space again, and I swallow hard. He reaches out to spear his fingers through my hair, forcing my head back at an odd angle as he stares me down. I can feel the strength in his fingers as he tightly grips the back of my hair, and I can see the strong muscles in his jaw working overtime.

The deep timbre of his voice sends shivers down my spine, because his tone is laced with a calmness that is undermined by his heated words. “You fooled me, Princess. You fooled me real good. I’m not made an ass of easily, I’ll have you know. You’ve accomplished something today only a select few could’ve ever hoped to do in their lifetimes and live to tell about it.” He bares his straight, white teeth with a bitter snarl, and I can smell the whiskey as it skates off his breath. “But you just couldn’t quit while you were ahead, could you? You just couldn’t help yourself. Travis was right when he said you’re incorrigible.” Nick shakes his head at me, pure disdain and contempt rolling off his facial features. I can feel the barely restrained rage radiating off of him. “It’s the biggest fucking understatement of the century, and I think it’s time for a lesson in Submission 101.”

He lets go of me then steps away, wasting no time as he retrieves a whip from the wall. I gasp, whispering a horrified, “No!”

“No?” Both his brows arch in mock confusion. “There’s no reason to worry, love. I’m not a neophyte, if that’s what you’re worried about. My aim is so impeccably precise I could extinguish the flame of a lit candle without even nicking the wick.” His eyes take on a look of adoration as he watches the length of the plaited leather slide slowly through the palm of his hand, while speaking with a fondness that has me petrified.

“This can create some of the sweetest of sensations,” he begins, glancing at me out of the corner of his eyes before he continues, “I can make the tip of the whip feel exactly like the delicate tongue of a lover, reverently kissing your skin with the sweet sting of passion.” His confession unnerves me, because I know I am anything but his lover at the moment. “Or…this whip can create some of your worst nightmares, torturing you with every strike.” With his gaze transfixed on the whip, it’s as if he’s become one with the implement in his hand, and the whip is a living thing, both of them emitting a strong sense of power and supreme savagery.