Free Enslaved (Devil's Kiss) by Gemma James

happening . . . the thought of Ian with that . . . that complete bitch was too much. “Please, Master, don’t ask him to do this.”  
    “I’m not, you are, and if he doesn’t agree, he’ll live knowing that you suffered the consequences.”  
    Ian took a step forward. “You sick—”  
    “Ask him, Kayla,” Gage interrupted.  
    “No.”
    He narrowed his eyes. “Seems my slave has backpedaled in her training. Yes or no, Dr. Kaplan?”  
    My pulse pounded through my body as Ian appeared to battle with himself. Half of me—the young girl who still loved him—wanted to scream for him to say no, but the more dominant half remained silent; maternal instinct would always win in the end.  
    Ian folded his arms and gave a small nod.  
    “Katherine, treat our guest to your services. The couch will suffice.”
    “My pleasure.” She glided across the room and curled her hand around his bicep. “C’mon, lover, I’ll show you a good time.”  
    Ian didn’t budge. He trapped me in his questioning gaze—a silent plea in the depths of intense hazel.
    I mouthed, “I’m sorry,” and then blinked back tears as he let Katherine haul him over to the couch. He collapsed and dragged a hand down his face.  
    “Strip,” Gage commanded me.
    I rose to my feet and brought my hands to my blouse, going on autopilot as I unhooked the buttons. Much too conscious of Ian sitting a few feet away, I kept my eyes on Gage the whole time, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man I’d seen lurking underneath during the weekend. His face displayed only calculated focus, driven by jealousy. Out of all the mistakes I could have made, this was surely the worst, for I belonged to him and he’d accept nothing less. The blouse fell from my shoulders. I reached for the front hook of my bra and sensed Ian’s gaze on my breasts, so tangibly it could have been his touch.  
    Gage kneeled, yanking my skirt and panties down, and I stepped outside the puddle of clothing. Tears streamed down my cheeks—a testament of lost dignity. Not that he’d left me with much to begin with.  
    “How does it make you feel to know he’ll see who you really are?”  
    I almost vomited at the thought.  
    He pulled me against him. “Does the idea excite you?”  
    “No, Master.”  
    “Do you love him?”
    “You know I do, Master.”  
    Gage turned me around and bent me over the bed. Grabbing my hair, he forced my face in Ian’s direction. “Do you think he’ll still love you after I’ve fucked you and made you scream my name in front of him?”
    Through my tears, I saw Katherine kiss her way down Ian’s chest, and my heart shattered when he twisted his head away. “No,” I choked.  
    Ian clenched his hands when Gage took me from behind, his thrusts rough and unforgiving. He whispered into my ear, “You’re going to come for me, or I’ll take your disobedience out on him.” He buried his fingers between my legs and did what he did best.
    I closed my eyes, shut off my mind to Ian’s tortured expression, Katherine’s smugness, and Gage’s cruelty. And I did what Gage had trained me to do—I obeyed, only I imagined it was Ian pounding into me, that it was his body slick against mine as I neared climax. When I opened my eyes, the sight on the couch stole my breath in agony. Katherine’s head was buried in Ian’s lap, and his knuckles had gone white as he gripped the cushions. He flung his head back and groaned. Hatred rushed through my blood, every last ounce of it compelling me to rebel. I made an even bigger mistake, though I didn’t delude myself into believing I did it accidentally. As Gage wrenched my head back and commanded my orgasm, I screamed Ian’s name at the top of my lungs.  

12. R E P E R C U S S I O N
    I found Ian’s car parked in my driveway when I returned home early the next morning. Maybe I should have been more alarmed, considering our forbidden embrace had started this madness to begin with, but after suffering