Pure Pleasures

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Acknowledgement

  About The Author

  Pure Pleasures

  A Novel

  By M.S. Parker

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 Belmonte Publishing LLC

  Published by Belmonte Publishing LLC.

  Book Description

  I knew I'd done the right thing by leaving him. He deserved someone who could give him everything he wanted, and that couldn't be me. I'd been broken far too long.

  When twenty-two year-old Jenna Lang leave the man she loves because she can't give him children, she believes she's making the right choice. As much as it breaks her heart, she wants him to move on and be happy. She tries to do the same, but she knows that, without Rylan, she'll never have her happy ending.

  Don't miss Pure Pleasures, the final installment in M.S. Parker's dark and emotional Pleasures series.

  Do you like FREE BOOKS? I have several new books and series planned for the 2015 including many free books. If you would like an email when my next book is ready click here to sign up to my newsletter.

  Chapter 1

  I'd done a lot of difficult things in my life, some by force, some by choice, but this had been the hardest. I'd survived thirteen years of abuse so horrific that it made some of the most hardened members of law enforcement blanch. I'd practically raised myself after being passed from one foster home to another. I'd testified before grand juries, reliving my abuse. I'd nearly been raped and killed again not too long ago, then I’d given up justice to protect the innocent.

  None of that compared to walking out of that house.

  The cab driver didn't say a word after I told him to take me to a hotel, and I was grateful. I was sure he had his suspicions about why I'd had him pick me up by the road, but I didn't feel the need to explain myself. I really didn't care what the man thought of me. It was clear where I was coming from. Ever since that magazine article declared twenty-eight year-old Rylan Archer, billionaire CEO of Archer Enterprises, one of the country's most eligible bachelors, his house outside Fort Collins, Colorado, wasn't exactly a secret. A young woman coming out of the house early in the morning, well, it didn't take a genius to figure out what I'd been doing there.

  I smothered a half-laugh. No, it didn't take a genius because even a genius would never have guessed why I was really there. Sure, I looked a lot more normal than I had when Rylan and I first met, but it was still clear that I was so far from Rylan's league I shouldn't have even been able to see his dog house let along his mansion. My hair was back to my natural ebony color rather than the bright blue it had been a few weeks ago, and I'd taken out my eyebrow and bellybutton piercings, but I still had scars, tattoos and multiple ear piercings. I continued to dress in the clothes I liked, ones that didn't exactly fit in with Rylan's rich world or his social-climbing parents.

  But he'd chosen me despite my appearance. He'd loved me before I'd told him the truth about my past and he still loved me after. He'd heard disgusting details that had made seasoned cops turn away from me, and he loved me anyway. Wanted me. He'd protected me, shared his life with me. His home.

  Our home.

  I choked back a sob.

  It had been our home for a day. Not even that. We were supposed to have spent today unpacking the few things I was bringing from my apartment. He'd promised to make love to me in every room, making new memories that would be just the beginning of our new life together. It was a new year, a year that he'd thought we'd be spending together. Up until last night, I'd thought it too.

  Last night.

  I crossed my arms tighter across my chest. I could feel the crack in my heart and knew that it was going to shatter soon. I'd heard people talk about the pain of a broken heart after a break-up and I'd always thought they were being melodramatic. Surely the loss of a boyfriend or girlfriend, especially someone who hadn't been around long, couldn't be that bad. Especially when compared to what I'd already gone through in my life.

  I hadn't known shit.

  I could barely breathe and every beat of my heart felt like glass being shoved through my ribcage. I'd endured physical pain so bad that I'd thrown up, passed out...this was worse. Not because what I had gone through wasn't bad, but because I'd been hurt so much that I knew physical pain eventually ended. When my mother had poured hot grease on my side, it had been excruciating. But I had healed. I had healed from it all. Some things had taken surgeries and some things would never be the same, but my physical injuries had disappeared with the passage of time.

  I didn't believe my heart would ever recover.

  I'd never been in love before, never even had a crush before, and when I'd fallen, I'd fallen hard. I'd tried not to. Really, I had. I'd told myself that I couldn't trust him. That men only lied and hurt. That he would use me and leave me. I'd told myself that he was too good for me and he'd eventually see it. Once I'd known I loved him, I'd still tried to guard my heart, reminding myself that it wouldn't last.

  Except it wasn’t Rylan who'd walked away this morning. It was me. I'd been the one who'd taken those steps. The one who was now going to hide, torn between wanting him to come after me and wanting him to forget.

  All because of that damned Suzette.

  I took a slow breath to keep myself from crying. It wasn't Suzette's fault, not really. Certainly, she could have been more tactful about it, but she'd spoken the truth. I supposed, if I wanted to be angry at someone for not being truthful, Rylan should've been my first choice. He'd said it didn't matter.

  I couldn't be mad at Rylan though. He'd only ever wanted to protect me, take care of me. I was sure he'd meant it when he said he didn't care that I couldn't have children. That the people who'd abused me had hurt me so badly that I'd never be able to get pregnant, let alone carry a child.

  But as soon as Suzette had told me how all Rylan had ever wanted was a family, I'd known the truth. He hadn't wanted to hurt me, so he'd convinced himself he was okay with it. Maybe he'd stay that way for a while. A year, maybe two. But then he'd start to see his friends with families, if they didn't have them already. He'd find himself watching commercials for baby things, listening to his parents when they started making comments to his sister about being grandparents.

  He'd leave me, and if I was lucky, he wouldn't resent me first. We could part on good enough terms that I could keep my job.

  Instead, I'd decided that I wouldn't put him through that. I'd given myself a final night. And then I'd woken this morning, written a note and left it with my Christmas present. I'd not go home...

  Home.

  Once, that w
ord had meant fear and pain. Then it hadn't existed. As an adult on my own, I'd worked hard and made a place of my own. A home that had been, if not perfect, good enough for me to sleep at night without fear.

  I blow out a breath. That home had been taken away from me too, the night Christophe Constantine had broken in. I shudder at the memory… the fear, the loss of hope I’d felt in those terrible moments.

  But I’d survived that too, and I hadn’t had to survive it alone. Rylan had been there for me and had offered me a home. A real one. With someone I not only loved, but trusted and made me feel safe.

  Now I had nothing.

  I did, however, have enough money to stay at a hotel for a while. Rylan would come to my apartment, but he wouldn't stay long. I'd be able to go back in a while, finish out my lease.

  I closed my eyes and slowly counted to ten. I didn't want to think about what was to come. It was hard enough to think about the next second, the next minute. The future had returned to what it had been all those years ago, before I'd been rescued. Bleak darkness. Black. Nothingness.

  “Miss?”

  The cab driver's voice came through before the hole I was digging for myself could get too bad.

  “Will this do?”

  I opened my eyes and looked out the window. It was a nice hotel, well within my budget, and not the kind of place that rented by the hour. It would do. I thanked him, paid him and headed inside with the little I'd brought with me.

  Ten minutes later, I was checked in and curled up on the bed, finally giving in to my tears and my pain.

  Chapter 2

  I knew better than to struggle and I lay limp as my mother tied my wrists and ankles to the loops she'd sewn into my mattress. I was older now than I had been when she'd first done it and I had an idea that I could possibly rip them out, get free. What was the point though? I was almost thirteen and knew how the world worked. Even if I did manage to escape, I had nowhere to go. As my mother repeatedly reminded me, I'd be out on the streets, forced to fuck strangers for money to eat. At least here, I had a bed, such as it was, and food, when Mom remembered to get it. And she was careful about the men using protection because she didn't want me catching some disease or, as of last month, getting pregnant. On the streets, I wouldn't always have the option.

  I stared up at the ceiling, focusing on the little cracks in the plaster rather than the fact that I was naked and spread out for whatever was going to happen next. It was harder to concentrate when I felt fingers on me. More than two hands and at least one belonged to a woman. I could feel the bite of her nails.

  They were talking, but I didn't pay attention. Unless they were talking directly to me, there wasn't a point. It wasn't like I was going to remember faces or figure out who they were. Even if I did, it wouldn't matter. I knew I'd been raped by at least one doctor, a couple cops, a judge and a politician or two over the years, though I knew the numbers had to be much higher. Not that it mattered. No one would believe me if I accused them. I'd given up hope of rescue and justice years ago. All I had left was a primal instinct of self-preservation demanding I stay alive, and even that was fading again. I didn't think I'd be able to pull myself out this time.

  I made a small pained sound when the first man climbed on top of me, but nothing more. I turned my head so I wouldn't have to see his face and tried to go somewhere else. It didn't work this time. I was aware of everything. The hairs on his chest rubbing against me. The pain inside me, though it wasn't much. I didn't have a lot of feeling there anymore. The things that had been done to me were finally starting to take their toll on my body.

  The second man was gentle and I hated that more. It was like they thought it would seem less like rape if they were nice about it. At least the men who were rough behaved like they knew what they were doing and had accepted it. They were animals, but the other were hypocrites. I preferred the animals.

  This one finished himself off and I could feel the drops of his cum splattering on my stomach. As soon as he moved, another took his place. I lost count after a while and it didn't hurt at all anymore. My body was as numb as my mind and only the rhythmic movement of my body under theirs told me that they were still going.

  I saw a shadow move and then my arms were free. Little pins and needles began shooting up and down my arms as my ankles were released next. I started to sit up, ready to shower and go to sleep, but a slap across the face made me stop. I wasn't done yet.

  A man stretched out on the mattress next to me and I climbed on top of him. When I felt a hand on my back, I whimpered, but leaned forward obediently. Even my desensitized body felt what happened next. I bit my lip to keep from screaming, but I couldn't stop the tears. They were involuntary, the automatic reaction to being split in two, and they kept coming as one man after another took their second turn.

  I couldn't stop the scream when a third man joined in and I felt something inside me tear...

  I jerked awake, heart pounding. The room was dark, unfamiliar, and I could feel the panic closing in. I fumbled for a lamp next to the bed, my befuddled brain insisting that one had to be there, no matter where I was. With my throat closing and my chest tightening, gray spots danced in front of my eyes and I fought to keep from passing out. I had to see where I was.

  The light came on and I saw the generic color scheme, the basic furniture. Right, a hotel. I flopped back onto the bed. The room wasn't tiny, but it was small enough for me to see that I was alone. I stared at the ceiling, trying to remember how to breathe.

  My arms wrapped around my middle. I'd get through this. I'd done it before. They were only nightmares, memories. They couldn't hurt me. I was safe. Honestly, I was safer now than I had been at my apartment, I told myself. Christophe was out on bail until his plea deal was finished, but he'd never find me here. I'd used cash and an alias.

  I kept talking to myself, but the panic attack didn't subside. If anything, it seemed to take a stronger hold. The hotel room swam in front of me. I didn't want to pass out. Sometimes, I had nightmares in that deep darkness, and I didn't want another one.

  I'd gotten spoiled, having Rylan there to hold me, to tell me everything was okay. His arms around me, his voice pulling me back from the brink.

  Tears burned at my eyelids even though I'd thought I'd cried myself dry. He'd told me that he'd be my anchor, that I could hold onto him, even in my sleep and he'd help me get through my nightmares. Thinking of him, though, didn't bring comfort now. It just made things worse.

  I rolled out of bed and headed for the mini-bar. It would've been cheaper just to go to a liquor store or grocery store, but I didn't feel like going out. I wasn't even sure what time it was. All I knew was I needed something that was going to help me relax. I didn't like using alcohol to do that, but at the moment, it seemed better than the alternative of just staying up and having to deal with the pain sober.

  I drained three little bottles and the muscles in my chest relaxed enough that I could actually breathe. I crawled back into bed, knowing I was going to wake up with a nasty hangover and not caring. Better a hangover than those dreams.

  I left the light on as I closed my eyes and waited for sleep or unconsciousness. I didn’t care which one. As long as oblivion came with it. I didn't want to think anymore. What would be the point? I was smart, but brains didn't necessarily mean anything. After all, they hadn't done anything for me before. I'd had to rely on someone else to save me.

  I snorted a laugh even though it was far from funny. It was all well and good to say you didn't need a man rescuing you, but I'd proven that to be a big fat lie. Granted, Lily hadn't been a man, but there had been men on the team that had come in and saved me. I'd told myself I'd only needed help because I'd been a child, but recent events were proving that wasn't true. I was just weak. I'd tried to fight against Christophe, but Rylan had come in to rescue me. On my own, I was pretty much useless.

  Rylan looked down at me with an expression of disgust on his face. I wanted to look away, to cover myself up, bu
t I couldn't move. I was held tight between the men fucking me and could do nothing but pray that Rylan would turn away. He didn't though.

  “Suzette and Zeke were right. You're just a filthy little whore, aren't you, Jenna?”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of cash. He dropped it next to me and unzipped his pants. He didn't wait for the others to be done, shoving himself inside me...

  “No!” The word was still on my lips as I woke. I winced at the sharp pain in my head, but it was a welcome reminder that it had only been a dream. Rylan hadn't done that. He hadn't been there. And he wouldn't have done it even if he had been. I'd heard the anger in his voice when I talked about being abused. He wanted to kill the men who'd hurt me. I hadn't left him because I hadn't believed that he loved me. I'd left because I'd known he loved me.

  Exhausted emotionally and physically, I drifted in and out of sleep. Sometimes I managed an hour or so without nightmares, but they always came eventually. Some were memories of my past. My mother hitting me, burning me. The man who'd like to hunt me. Individual men, faceless when they raped me, their perversion feeling almost normal when compared to other things I'd been forced to do. Christophe making me watch those videos.

  Worse were the ones my mind made up entirely. Most starred Rylan. Sometimes he was joining in the abuse, but more often, he was happy, married to someone else, a father to beautiful children. In my dreams, he’d forgotten me until I approached and then he would send me away, not wanting me to contaminate the precious life he'd created. There were dreams where I'd married Rylan and we had a family. Those were the worst of all, because I'd be happy in the dream and then wake up to feel the loss all over again.

  At some point, I realized that I'd slept almost the entire weekend away. It was late Sunday night and I hadn't taken a single moment to think about what I was going to do tomorrow. I knew what I wanted to do. Sleep. Try to find even a few minutes of peace. I could feel the darkness tugging at me, promising relief. Even though I knew it was a lie, I wanted it.