Black Forever (Obsidian 4)

I was going to Ruin.

I turned my phone off so I didn’t have to feel it vibrate in my pocket. Rome would call me all night long, wanting to work this out and subdue my anger.

But it was too late for that.

I walked into the underworld, the dark place I considered home, and I found Isabella as if I had a GPS on her. She was at the bar talking to some guy who was clearly interested in putting a collar around her neck.

Not an ounce of jealousy.

I felt nothing for her.

If I asked her to be my sub for the evening and she said no, I still wouldn’t care.

I walked up to her and locked my gaze with hers, silently telling her what I wanted. The guy sitting beside her was irrelevant at that point. Couldn’t care less about him.

She held my gaze with the same dark expression. She finally gave a slight nod.

That was the gesture I was looking for, so I walked off and headed to the playrooms upstairs, not concerned if she was standing behind me or not. I knew she would follow me—because she always followed me.

Once she joined me in the playroom, I locked the door and finally felt myself come undone. I was out of my mind with rage. I was so livid I couldn’t see straight. Rome ticked me off, pushed me to the edge, and now I needed to release the frustration deep inside me. I grabbed the shackles and secured them around Isabella’s wrists. After a tug on the rope, she was lifted from the floor, her feet dangling inches from the ground.

“Make me hurt, Sir,” she whispered. “Make it hurt so good.”

I went to the display case and looked through the selections of whips and floggers. I found a particularly brutal one, with a big knot at the end that would mark her for days. “I will, Isabella. Don’t you worry about that.”

4

Rome

This day just kept getting worse.

He pissed me off.

Then I pissed him off.

Then he pissed me off again.

And then he told me he loved me.

He finally said those words to me, and instead of making me happy, they made me feel like shit. Sometimes Calloway turned possessive and controlling, and I knew I needed to be more sensitive to his behaviors. He didn’t know how to express himself like most people. He showed me he loved me in ways that weren’t completely transparent.

Love meant something different to him than it did to me.

And I chased him away after he finally confessed his feelings.

I called his phone a hundred times throughout the night, but every time I tried to reach him, his phone was off.

That was like a punch to the stomach.

At two in the morning, I couldn’t stay awake any longer. I lay on the couch with a thin blanket and hoped I would hear the door once he came inside, if he came home at all. I was dead asleep when I heard his heavy footfalls against the hardwood floor in the entryway.

I sat upright and pulled the hair from my face, relieved that he was home and no longer out on the town.

He immediately stripped off his jacket and tossed it on the coatrack. He undid his watch and threw it on the table, not caring about protecting it from scratches. He stepped farther into the room as he unbuttoned his collared shirt.

His eyes settled on me, just as frightening as they were when he stormed out.

I kicked the blanket aside and left the couch. I hadn’t changed since I came home, and I was still in the dress I wore to work. My makeup was probably smeared because I shed a few tears after I got his voice mail.

The lights were off, but I could still make out his hard features, full of unbridled anger.

Now that I was face-to-face with him, I didn’t know what to say. Words left me at that moment. I didn’t know how to express myself, not after the roller coaster of emotions we experienced throughout the day.

I finally found something to say, but it felt hollow in comparison to how I felt. “I’m sorry…”

He didn’t drop his arctic glare. He stepped closer to me then cupped my face, both of his hands pressed against my cheeks. He forced my head back then kissed me, an embrace that was just as aggressive as he was angry. His tongue darted into my mouth, and he pressed me up against the wall, kissing me harder and groping my body everywhere. He yanked up my dress then pulled my panties down my thighs. When he couldn’t get them past my knees, he ripped them with his bare hands instead.

I yelped when I heard the tear of the fabric, desperate to get him inside me now that I knew how much he wanted me. My hands went to his slacks, and I yanked them off as well as his boxers. The second he was free, he lifted me into the air and pressed my back against the wall.