Mirror of My Soul by Joey Hill (book club recommendations .TXT) 📕

training submissives and Dominants alike, awakening them to their natures and how to accept and exercise their desires to bring them and their partners pleasure, Tyler increased the power of the kiss, the demand level to it. Gave her heat.

“Do whatever you want, dear heart,” he murmured. “But I won’t go away. I’m all yours. I’ll be your Master, if you surrender to me.”

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Joey W. Hill

He didn’t know if the compulsion was intuition or the poor judgment of a man too much in love to exercise good timing or sense but he shifted one hand from her, dipped in his pocket to retrieve the object he’d been carrying most of the night and drew her left hand from around his waist.

Marguerite’s eyes flitted down and shock captured her features as he slid a ring over her finger, fitting it snugly past the knuckle. “And I’ll be your husband. I’ll do my best to keep you whole. To catch you when you fall. You’re the only woman I want.

And I knew it the first time I saw you.”

The ring was a platinum band with a marquise diamond framed by metal work.

There were Japanese characters etched in the band on either side of the gem. They looked like elegant decorative scroll, if the person wearing the ring hadn’t known what the characters meant.

“Trust. Faith.” She murmured the words.

“On the inside of the band right beneath the diamond is one more. Love.”

Simple concepts and the most precious in life. Marguerite closed her fingers over the metal.

“You’ve lost your mind.”

“I’ll say. Do you know there’s at least three ways to write Japanese and some words have ten different characters, depending on how you mean to say them?”

“No, that’s not what I… Tyler, I can’t…”

“You can think about it. That’s all I want you to do for now, angel. Wear it and think about it.” He brought her around the bench, turned her so she was watching Mac and Violet again. “Put your hands on the bench. Obey me.”

She did, her emotions scrambled. Her already stimulated body was suddenly more so as it became obvious what he was intending to do. He did it without ceremony.

Caressing her cunt beneath the skirt to confirm she was wet, he unfastened his jeans and eased his thick cock into her, filling that aching void that was threatening to close in on her mind, as if he knew exactly what she needed at this moment. The ring pressed into her skin as she gripped the top of the bench. Her eyes clung to the band the same way, to the promise of it, as immediate and verifiable as the man’s body covering her now, driving into her.

“Tyler…” she gasped his name, her fingers clutching the bench edge as he pushed down the strapless top, freeing her breasts to grip them in his hands, kneading as he stroked her inside.

“Watch Mac and Violet,” he ordered in a firm tone that had a ragged edge,

betraying his own desire at this moment. “And believe in fairy tales. In happy ever afters. In the fact that I will never stop loving you, no matter how often you pull away.

No matter how many times you get lost in the shadows, I’ll find you. Because you’re my light and salvation, angel. I have to have you to have light in my life.”

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He put his teeth to her shoulder then, his cock working her, bending her further over the bench. When he took command of her pussy with his fingers on her clit, he shoved her over the edge of the climax, leaving her writhing and crying out. The two figures stilled on the opposite end of the small pond and she knew they were listening to her pleasure, her pain, her fear, her fulfillment. It seemed all the different reactions were inseparable.

“Tyler, I can’t…”

“Come for me, angel. That’s all you have to do right now. Come for me.”

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Joey W. Hill

Chapter Fifteen

But demons preyed on happiness, she knew that. She lay in her bed and heard him coming, knew that it was one more night to get through. She’d stopped wondering how long it would last. Just like an abused dog, she simply had to endure this moment and then there would be a void of nothingness. Nothingness was good, undemanding.

“Time for your punishment.”

After he raped her, he turned her over. This hurt even more than the other way, but she’d learned not to resist. She smelled the cigarette, felt his organ penetrate her backside, heard his guttural command to her to stay still as he pressed the tip of the cigarette to her skin. Her flesh burned, but she didn’t move. She’d learned never to move.

“This is all there is. All there will ever be. This is your hell and mine.”

She hoped it would not be one of those odd nights when he turned her over, held her and cried. Called her “Mother” while her insides burned with agonizing pain and blood stained her thighs, her small buttocks.

When she fell from great heights the sky became white feathers. There was the

sense of tearing as well as floating, as if there were two parts of her, her soul fighting to get loose of her body.

It’s because the soul is weightless, little sister. David’s voice seemed to whisper to her in her dreams. You just have to let go…

Only the voice wasn’t David’s. It was her father’s. His hands bruised, took,

demanded, invaded.

She jerked out of the dream, her body tense, motionless, afraid to move. Blinking several times, Marguerite told herself it was a dream, that the nightmare was no longer a reality. She used a simple one-syllable Kundalini chant to balance herself, the one she usually did to make the lie a workable rationalization so she could get up and face the day. But her reality had changed. The bed she