Page 89 of Black Sheep

Then contrary to my every expectation, I sleep.

Chapter Twenty-Five

RUM AND PERSPECTIVE

Cleo

It’s been eight days since my unforgettable first day at the Punishment Club. Eight days where I’ve been fucked, fed, pampered by invisible staff, and fucked some more.

I’m not exactly a prisoner in the time capsule I created for myself, but there’s an unspoken message in Axel’s actions that tells me he would prefer it if I stayed put.

It’s not a huge problem because the idea of venturing outside doesn’t entice me. New York is an electrifyingly vibrant city with humanity plugged into life at super-high-octane speed. Nothing of that appeals to me right now. I prefer my temporary world of near silence.

Near silence and endless fucking.

That’s our mode of communication since his earth-shattering confession. A confession that I still grapple with. With the hell I saw in his eyes when he spoke about making amends. I tell myself a symbol etched in his skin means nothing, but the strength of that belief is chipping away.

Axel rarely sleeps. The one time he fell asleep next to me, I woke to a man caught in the vicious claws of a nightmare. One from which it’d been nearly impossible to wake him. It happened on the second night when the arms clamped around me and the sweat pouring off his body in sleep told its own story.

Shaking him or calling his name didn’t work. So I resorted to other means to pull him from his visible torment. Did a part of me want him to remain in that nightmare?

Maybe. Hell, I thought about it.

But the shuddering of my heart eradicated that feisty flame of retribution. Or perhaps it was the sensation of his hot, hard body nearly engulfing mine that prompted me to act. I captured his nape and pressed my mouth to his.

He stilled immediately, his eyes blinking open to pierce mine. I didn’t need to tell him why. And he didn’t relay his dream to me.

Instead he took over the kiss, his sexual expertise turning disturbed dreams into carnal reality the second he rolled onto his back and arranged me on top of him. Caught in the vicious hunger that never abated in his presence, I didn’t need much encouragement to plant my hands on his chest and ride him. With my brains fucked out for a second time that night, I slept like the dead. And woke up alone.

That set the pattern for the following days.

Beneath the soft white linen tunic that drapes my body, my pussy throbs gently with the reminder of another charged Axel experience.

Halfway through breakfast, he grabbed me, pushed me onto my hands and knees, tore away the silk slip covering my rear, and rammed inside me. The hard and fast animalistic coupling left me spinning, my body a useless heap on the floor. Afterwards, he dragged himself off me then spent the next hour massaging and washing me in the Jacuzzi bath. Of course, true to his word to keep me filled with him, he fucked me again the moment we got out.

Reprieve arrived in the form of his ringing phone. The clipped conversation that followed ended abruptly with him striding for the door before he fully hung up.

“I’ll see you tonight. We’re going out. Eight o’clock. Wear something nice,” were his terse instructions to me before he slammed the door.

Now, after a light lunch and midafternoon nap, I enter the walk-in closet filled with brand-new clothes, a half-drunk glass of water in hand. B hit the ball out of the park with her task. Had I been in a less distressed state of mind, I would feel giddy at the beautiful creations she managed to pull together on such short notice. Jumpsuits, sexy romper suits, and cute sundresses in vibrant pastels took care of daywear. Sexy black, red and gray gowns took care of evening wear. A couple of silk nightwear pieces found their way into the collection as well, but as per Axel’s instructions, no underwear made it through.

I move along the clothes rack, ignoring the saucy little voice inside that teases me for finding the absence of underwear surprisingly…freeing.

Or perhaps I’m turned on by Axel’s hum of satisfaction each time he slips his hand under my clothes to fondle me and finds my bare flesh. I ignore my peaking nipples and select a black, sleeveless dress. The layered chiffon across the bodice will help hide my braless state while remaining classy. The knee-length hem will also aid in the no-flashing-private-parts area. The five-inch-wide, cinched-in waist also compliments my figure.

I grab and set it to one side then open the shoe closet. B’s penchant for fuck-me shoes is glaringly obvious in the sky-high heels carefully arranged in color blocks. None are below four inches, with the highest scaling an eye-watering six and a half. Unless I develop a burning desire to break my own neck, there’s no way those stilettos are gracing my feet. I choose a pair of black-and-silver platform Ferragamos and move on to accessories. The silver hammered-metal choker is the obvious choice, and with my intention to wear my hair down, there won’t be a need for earrings.

I’m finishing my water when I hear the knock.

Apprehension sweeps through me as I set the glass down. Axel cleared the whole floor after a member accidentally knocked on my door yesterday. Unfortunately for the guy, he interrupted another prelude to mindless fucking. If B hadn’t stepped in, Axel would’ve ripped the guy’s head off.

I approach the door with caution, keeping the chain on as I crack it open.

B is standing on the other side, her head cocked to one side, a half smile on her face. “Hey, it’s only me. Promise, I’m harmless.”

I don’t believe that for a second, but I pull open the door, summoning a smile of my own. But she doesn’t come in.

“You wanna come have a drink with me?” she asks instead.

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