Page 11 of Rock the Boat
Istood in the middle of my room, dressed in nothing except my bra, panties, and a short robe. I was expecting company and anticipated I would get a knock on my door any moment now.
I was not disappointed.
Knock. Knock. Knock. Three short taps against the door located just across the hall from Matthew. I made sure he saw me enter earlier, made sure to give him a sultry smile, and made certain he could not resist the urge for one last fling before he tied the knot.
Belting the robe loosely so that it showed off a hint of everything, I opened the door and leaned against the frame. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Blum?” I asked breathlessly, dropping my gaze to his crotch. I licked my lips before I met his eyes again. “Anything at all?”
“I can think of one or two things,” he smirked and stepped forward. I backed away and allowed him to enter. What kind of hostess would I be if I left him out in the hall? And what kind of wedding planner would I be if I did not attempt to take care of all of his needs.
Matthew wrapped his arms around my waist, and I had to fight back a shiver of revulsion. When I decided to seek revenge for what had been done to me, I knew this would not be easy. I just hoped I didn’t throw up all over him until I got what I wanted.
Pressing a finger against his mouth before he could kiss me, I inquired, “What about your fiancée?”
“Nothing to worry about. Helena and I have an understanding. We aren’t married yet, so I can do whatever I want.”
“And do you see something you want?”
His eyes roamed over my body. “I see a lot that I want.”
“I can see that you do.” I skirted around him and poured him a drink. There wasn’t anything about Matthew I didn’t remember. I still remembered his favorite drink, Tullamore Dew, straight. Personally, I couldn’t stand the stuff, but I didn’t drink a lot and was never able to drink hard liquor. That had not changed. “How about a drink to kick off the party?”
He threw back the Irish whiskey without another thought and smiled. “Tullamore?”
“Impressed?”
“I was told you are very thorough in your job.”
“Oh, I am. In fact, if you strip and get on the bed, I can show you just how thorough I can be.”
Without hesitation, he quickly removed his clothes, tripping slightly when he tried to get his pants off his legs, his head running into the wall. I had to hold back my laughter. Completely nude, he got into position in the middle of the bed, lying on his back, his arms behind his head. The drugs I spiked his drink with wouldn’t take long to start working, but I needed to wait them out a little bit more.
“Are you ready?” I allowed one shoulder of my robe to drop down, baring a little more skin. He hissed in response.
“Always ready.”
“I’m certain you are.”
Pressing a few buttons on my phone, music began playing, and I toyed with the belt on my robe a little, nervous and scared to see what would happen when I showed him my scars. Would he remember? I both feared he would remember and that he would not. Which one would be better? Worse?
“Do you trust me?” I asked, sashaying up to the side of the bed.
“Do I ever,” he said excitedly and thrust his hips, his hard dick thumping against his stomach. When we had been together, this was something I never got to see. While his size was impressive, it did nothing for me.
“Good. Now, close your eyes. Don’t worry, you won’t miss the show.” I tapped his nose with a finger, and he did what I asked. “Put your hands over your head. We are going to have a little fun. I like a little pain with pleasure.” His grin grew as he moved his hands where I asked.
I cuffed him, making sure they were a little snugger than necessary. “Oh, yeah,” he moaned and lifted his hips again. He was an eager boy. Too bad there would be no pleasure for him today. Moving down to his feet, I did the same. “Give it to me!”
“Don’t worry, I will.” He was trapped, drugged, and unable to escape. To further add to his humiliation, I grabbed his dick, moving lower until I cupped his balls, and then I pulled them down to cinch them.
His eyes flew open. “What are you doing?”
“Having a little fun.” I took a makeup removing wipe and swiped it over my neck, removing the foundation I used to hide the scar. Surgery did a lot to make it smaller and less noticeable, but to me, it was a beacon and shined brightly no matter what I did.
“What the hell?” He frowned and looked more confused than I had ever seen him.
Next, I untied my robe and allowed it to fall to the ground. The slashes on my stomach and my arm were visible. I never wanted those fixed. They were my reminders of what this man tried to do to me. Every time I saw them, the embers of my anger were renewed and burned brightly. The one that had been carved into my abdomen was almost six inches and, after two years, had not dimmed much. It was still pink, although it was no longer the red it once was. Dom swore to me it would eventually fade. Sometimes I prayed for that, and sometimes I never wanted it to happen.
“What the hell?” He narrowed his eyes before they widened. “Did you get into an accident?”
