Scarred Regrets (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 5)

Ishowered, drenching my hair in the water with my head tipped back. Scar had promised to join me in a few minutes, but the shower remained conspicuously empty.

He always showered with me, sliding his naked body as close to mine as he could manage.

Always got on his knees before me and made me cry out his name before standing and letting me return the favor. It had become part of our routine, something I very much looked forward to every day.

More like twice a day. Showers were frequent in our lives; a point of safety for me.

There was no desk to remind me of the hard press of wood at my spine. The space was too closed in for me to feel the phantom eyes of men watching, men who would touch and take if their boss only allowed it.

There was just us—cleansed of the dirt from the day and washing our sins down the drain as we drank from one another.

I finished rinsing the conditioner from my hair, wondering what could possibly keep him away. Knowing what happened in the shower, I would be damned if I missed a single one for the rest of my life.

I could live with his handsome face between my legs, soaking up every moment of pleasure he wrung from my body.

I turned the water off, wrapping a towel around my hair and patting it dry before I stepped out of the shower and dried the water from my skin. “Scar?” I called, padding on bare feet over the tiles of the bathroom. Poking my head out the bathroom door, I stared at Scar where he paced back and forth in the bedroom.

His eyes came to me the moment I stepped into the room, rubbing the towel over my hair gently. “Butterfly,” he said, his eyes heating the moment they landed on my naked body.

“What are you doing?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest as I felt suddenly self-conscious. Something about his posture was uncertain, raising all the alarm in my body.

“Come take off my belt,” he said, the order rumbling through me. Being naked with Scar in the shower felt safe. Being naked, with him dressed, in the bedroom was somehow different.

I shook my head, pursing my lips as I did. “I don’t know if I can.”

“It’s just me, Iri. Do you trust me?” he asked, and the knowledge that I did filled me. I stepped closer to him, dropping my hands to his belt buckle and pulling the leather through. “All the way.”

I tugged it free from his belt loops, the sound of the rough leather sliding over his slacks carrying through the bedroom. He took it from me, stepping away the moment it was free and moving toward the bed. He twisted the belt in his hands, wrapping it one way and then the other so quickly that I couldn’t follow the motions. When he was finished, they formed a figure eight that resembled handcuffs.

He dropped them on the bed while I swallowed audibly, shaking my head and trying to shove down the surge of fear within me. Surely, he couldn’t think to tie me up.

I’d never survive. Already, panic made my lungs heave.

“They’re for me, Butterfly,” he said softly, stripping the shirt off over his head and shoving his pants down his legs. I glanced over at the bedpost next to where he’d dropped his makeshift handcuffs, finding another belt wrapped around it tightly.

Picking up the belt and slowly sliding his hands through each of the loops, he crawled onto the bed. He positioned his hands in the straps as he lay on his back at an angle on the bed, taking the leather slack between his teeth and slowly pulling it tight.

“What are you doing?” I asked, staring at him in panic. His breathing was deep and rhythmic, too controlled to be relaxed as his own trauma forced him into that place where he shut every emotion down and just did it. “Scar.”

“You’ll have to feed the slack through the buckle on the one wrapped around the post and put the prong through the hole,” he said, instructing me. I couldn’t move, couldn’t seem to breathe past my anxiety as I realized what he was doing.

What he was willing to do for me.

“No, I am not doing this. This is ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous and you know it. As much as I love fucking your pretty face, we both want more. This is how we get it. You’re in control,” he said, ignoring the shake of my head. “Come here.”

Something in the command of his voice made my feet move toward the bed, resting at the edge hesitantly. He sat up, using his body and forearms to maneuver me closer until I sighed and straddled his waist.

Panic hit immediately, the visceral reaction out of my control. I shoved it down, trying to find pleasure in the feeling of him between my legs.

“Use me,” he said, repeating the words he’d used the first time I rubbed my pussy against him until I came.

“Are you sure you can do this?” I asked, glancing down to where his hands were clenched, restrained by the belt and resting between us.

He stretched his long arms up and draped them around the back of my neck, tugging me down until he could tease my mouth with his and nip at my bottom lip. “I can do anything for you, Butterfly,” he murmured, the words sinking inside me and finding their new home.

They struck me in the chest, a deep understanding of the meaning of something like that coming from someone like Scar.

I knew what it was to be broken. To feel like my body had become a plaything and it wasn’t mine anymore. To not recognize the person I saw in the mirror and hate the thought of hands on my skin.

I knew what it was to live in pain for a few hours, followed by a few months of fear. Scar had a lifetime of abuse to overcome, a lifetime of fear and pain that haunted him into his adult life long after he’d taken his power back.

He was willing to face all of that…for me.

Tears stung my eyes, the sacrifice he wanted to make in order for us to move to the next phase in a relationship that had seemed impossible not long ago. “Handcuff me,” he ordered, the gentleness in his face retreating to make way for the man who commanded.

For the man who bossed me around so efficiently that he somehow made me want to give him everything he demanded, rather than forcing it from me out of fear of the repercussions.

I stretched up as he raised his arms above his head. The movement made the muscles on his abdomen stretch and ripple, his biceps flexing as I reached over his head and fed the slack through the buckle to secure him to the bedpost.

Immobilizing him. Leaving him at my mercy.

The sheer level of trust he placed in me swept through me, watching his face as he warred with his body’s initial reaction, something that was as familiar to me as my own face.

I leaned into his space, touching my lips to his mouth gently and breathing into him. His eyes opened as he arched into my touch, letting me cup his face in my hand and kiss him more deeply. When I pulled back, the ghosts were gone from his gaze, his mind firmly set in the present with me.

“Good girl,” he praised, shifting himself between my legs. He looked down between us, staring at the space where his cock pressed against my thigh. “Come sit on my face. I want you dripping wet when you finally slide your cunt down on my cock.”

I flushed, the order making me squirm.

“I don’t—” I said, hesitating as I thought about the awkwardness of it. “I’ll suffocate you.”

“Good. If I die with my face buried in your pussy, then I will die a happy man,” he said, chuckling beneath his breath. He lifted his hips, shifting me until I slid up his stomach some. “Hands on the headboard, legs spread, and ride my face. Now.”

That tone.

Swallowing, I moved slowly, inching up his body and placing my legs around his face and arms. When I finally made it into position, I hovered over him and stared down. Placing my hands on the headboard for support, I lowered myself slowly until his mouth touched between my thighs.

His tongue slid between my lips, teasing and tormenting me with the gentle tease of a man who was secured to a bed and had no control over how much he could touch me. I lowered myself more, gasping when his contact became firmer.

He swept over me and in me in firm glides, using his whole mouth to make me feel him. I quickly lost all semblance of care for his ability to fucking breathe, dropping all my weight down on his face to the ragged groan of pleasure that erupted in his chest.

My hips moved, shifting over him and helping him work me higher and higher. With the knowledge that I’d have him inside of me soon, I tumbled over the edge of an orgasm that only promised more.

It felt like the beginning of what would be a very long night for me, stealing the breath from my lungs as I curved forward and leaned into the headboard.

I sucked back a few lungfuls of air, coming down from the high of my orgasm before I swung a leg off of his face. Staring down at him with a smirk, I watched his face transform with a smile.

A smile I never wanted to stop.

I climbed off the bed, moving to the foot and staring at the cock pointed straight toward the ceiling. I knew exactly where he wanted me to put it, but something defiant raised in me. I shoved his legs apart, dropping to my stomach between them and taking him in my hand.

“What are you doing?” Scar asked, staring down at me as I leaned forward and ran my tongue over the tip.

I ignored the question, drawing him inside my mouth and lowering as far as I could go. The stretch of my jaw around him was almost unbearable every time, but I lived for his groans of pleasure.

He made it worth the pain.

“Irina, get your fucking cunt on my cock. Now,” he said, the order making me chuckle around his dick. He groaned, his head tipping back into the pillow when I put a hand at his base and worked him in tandem with my mouth. “Fuck,” he groaned. “I love your mouth, but I swear to God if you get me off with it right now I won’t lick your cunt for a week, woman.”

I laughed, throwing my head back and releasing him. “You could never last that long.”

“You’re probably right,” he admitted, his eyes landing on mine, and something that felt a lot like adoration filled his gaze. “Fuck me.”

I tilted my head to the side, lifting up off my stomach and crawling over his body. He slid his legs together again on the bed, giving me a perfect place to sit at his hips. I reached between us, wrapping a hand around him and stroking once before I lined him up and slid his head through the wetness between my thighs.