Severed Ties: A Dark Stalker Romance (Tainted Love Book 1)
Severed Ties: Chapter 55

If the food and wine weren’t so good, I’d sum this up as the worst date of my life.

But even then, it would be a lie.

Tommy has been attentive, always making sure some part of him is touching me constantly. He’s made me smile and laugh, fed me a bite of his steak and kept my glass full at all times. Honestly, I’ve never been on a date with a guy who has seemed so genuinely enthralled with me, and I’m not sure how to deal with that considering the vibrator that flares to life, brings me to the edge of an abyss I’m not entirely sure I’ll survive, and then turns it off, continuing with normal conversation like he didn’t just steal my orgasm from me.

But the worst part of it all? I fucking like it. Not the stolen orgasm part, but the rest of it. The brutal killer sitting beside me, doting on me like I’m the most precious thing in his life and hanging off every word that falls from my lips. The lips he hasn’t been able to take his eyes off, mind you.

And not for the first time, I wonder if I’m falling in love with him.

“We’ll have the lava cake to share,” Tommy says to the waitress, pulling my attention from my wineglass. The toy is off right now, thankfully, and it’s giving me time to process everything that’s happened tonight and my own feelings about it and Tommy.

The waitress nods and scurries out of the private room, not stopping to look back. She’s terrified of Tommy, and I don’t know if that’s purely based on the way he looks or if she knows what he does for a living.

“Are you okay, Clara?” Tommy takes my hand in his.

He says he doesn’t like physical touch, but he hasn’t stopped touching me, brushing his hands over my bare skin at every opportunity, so maybe it’s just my touch he doesn’t like.

I nod, taking a long drink of the wine he’s continually refilled for me. I don’t normally drink this much during the week, but I’ve needed it to calm myself between the toy’s vibrations.

His rough knuckles brush against my chin, forcing my face up to meet his worried gaze. He doesn’t strike me as someone who has ever been particularly concerned about how other people are feeling, but the way he’s looking at me like he wishes he could read my mind has butterflies flaring to life in my belly.

“Don’t lie to me, fawn. That’s one of your rules,” he reminds me.

I sigh, accepting the idea that I’m going to have to speak to him rather than avoid the conversation like I would normally do. I’m not one for confrontation, and if I can get away with not talking about something, I will every day of the week. “I’m just confused.”

“About?”

“About us. I’m not sure what we…are.”

It’s not the first time I’ve broached the subject, and each time he’s just growled and said that I belong to him, but that doesn’t answer my question. Are we exclusive? Am I going to replace him in bed with another woman and his excuse be that we never put a label on us? I need to know the parameters of this relationship, even if I have no intention of pursuing anything romantic with someone else while we’re doing whatever it is we’re doing.

He considers me for a second before carefully tugging me from my seat and placing me in his lap. Again, touching me. But if I were to brace my hands on his chest, would he grow tense and angry like he has in the past? Except, his body seems to relax when I settle across his legs, a strong arm wrapped around my waist to keep me steady. “What’s worrying you, little fawn? You know I’m obsessed with you. I wouldn’t have spent so long stalking you if I wasn’t. So what is it that has planted doubt in your mind?” His words are soft, his eyes holding mine even though I want nothing more than to look away. To look anywhere but at him.

“You don’t like when I touch you, and I didn’t know if…” I trail off because I don’t really know what I’m asking here. I don’t know if he’ll ever be able to handle my touch. If I can be with someone who I can’t touch.

He sighs and his fingers trail up and down my back in a soft, comforting gesture. “I was deprived of physical touch all my life, Clara. And the only time someone did touch me, it was to hurt me. So I have trouble accepting it now. It’s nothing that you’ve done, and I’m much calmer when you touch me than anyone else. But it’s going to take some time.”

He grips my chin in his rough fingers and brings my face down until it’s even with his, our breaths mingling together. “Stop doubting this, Clara.”

I nod, but before I can respond, the waitress strolls back in with the lava cake in hand and two spoons, looking anywhere but at me perched on Tommy’s lap.

We both say a quiet thank you and she disappears. My cheeks heated. That poor girl must have so many theories about what’s been going on in here tonight, and part of me wonders how close she’s gotten to the truth.

I glance down at the plate in front of me, the decadent dessert the main feature on the creamy-white porcelain, and a sprinkle of chocolate sauce to decorate around it. Despite how full I am from my lasagna, the best fucking lasagna I’ve ever had, mind you, my stomach rumbles in anticipation.

Tommy’s eyes flicker to me with amusement and when she closes the door this time, the air seems especially charged. I’d think I was imagining it if it weren’t for the heat in the deep blue I’m staring into. “You know, little fawn. As good as that dessert looks, there’s something else I’d rather eat.”

“Oh?” I whisper with a breathy moan.

“Your sweet pussy must be aching. Would you like me to soothe it for you?”

I let out a strangled cry when his hand slides up my inner thigh and presses on the toy that has been dormant inside me for the last twenty or so minutes. I keep expecting it to flare to life, but either he’s grown bored with the game, or he wants to draw it out for as long as possible. “Yes.”

His dark eyes turn wicked and if I wasn’t so turned on, I’d probably be afraid of the way he’s looking at me. “Stand up and bend over the table.”

I only hesitate for the slightest of seconds before I’m reminded of my rules. Do as he says, when he says. This punishment, as enjoyable as it’s been at times, is not one I feel like extending any longer than necessary.

I climb off his lap carefully and place my hands on the white tablecloth, arching my back as best I can in the position I’m in. I’m horrifyingly aware of Tommy sitting behind me, his eyes level with my ass as he pushes my dress up around the bare globes, giving him a view that makes my cheeks heat.

“You’re so beautiful, Clara.” His hands trail up the backs of my thighs and knock my knees apart slightly, holding on to me until he’s sure I’m stable on my heels. “Your greedy little cunt is wrapped around the toy so beautifully.”

I groan at his words, unable to help the guttural sound that claws from the back of my throat. Jesus, his filthy mouth might be enough to make me come alone one of these days, especially if I’m this wound up.

He grasps the toy and gently pulls it out of me before pressing it back in. I’m waiting for the vibrations to start again, but Tommy makes no move to reach for his phone that lies on the table beside my right hand. “So fucking wet for me,” he murmurs as he drags the toy out again, and the next thing I know, he’s holding it against my lips. “Suck.”

I open my mouth to protest, but it quickly dies on my lips when the silicon is pushed between them and my sweet taste assaults my senses. A moan fills the room and it takes me a few seconds to realize it’s coming from me.

Tommy chuckles deeply and I look over my shoulder to replace him standing, the chair he occupied a moment ago pushed back. “You can taste yourself on my cock after I’ve fucked you, fawn.” And before I can take another breath, his cock is slamming into me in a punishing thrust.

I’m too shocked to cry out because when the hell did he unbuckle his pants? I didn’t hear his belt or the fly, and he’s had at least one hand on me since he had me bend over. But by now, nothing about Tommy Hart should surprise me.

Except for how much he seems to care for me.