Heart Like Mine (Heart #2)

Prologue

Amity

Seven Years ago…

I wake in the middle of the bed surrounded by bodies.

My head spins with a sharp ache of too much alcohol, along with my body aching from too much sex.

I laugh to myself; another night in search of pleasure.

To feel more than a rotting corpse in my own skin.

I shift to move when someone's hand latches onto my calf.

“Don’t leave yet,” she whispers.

Another arm of a man pulls me close to his body to cuddle.

I think back on a memory seared in my brain.

One of many that led me down this path.

I awake with a gnawing pain in my stomach and between my thighs.

“What the hell,” I moan, finding my hands tied above my head to the bedpost.

My eyes fully open to gander at my naked and bruised body.

Dry blood cascades down my left breast onto my side, then the bed sheets.

Looking around, I find comfort that I'm in my own room, but then my breath hitches in realization I’m back home, and he is somewhere nearby.

That something snapped in him again last night to place me in this position.

My mind floods with visions from last night.

“My little whore needs to behave like a dutiful wife.

Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do? You came from nothing and now can have the world if you would just.

Keep.

Your.

Fucking.

Mouth.

SHUT,” he spits out in my face.

I squirm underneath his body, knowing there is nowhere I can go.

I’m trapped.

“I didn't mean to tell you what to do.

I love you.

I just want you safe,” pleading.

“You love me, Amity? Huh, I think maybe you once did.” He almost looks sorrowful, but then his eyes glass over with intensity.

“Let me show you how much I love you.” He quickly shreds my clothes off my body, tossing me back on the bed hard enough the breath is knocked out of my lungs when I bounce off the mattress.

Then he has my wrists pinned above my head, binding them by rope to the bed.

“No escaping me now, my little wildflower.” I watch as he strips down, and I notice a few more tattoos since we had last been together, which honestly was only two weeks ago.

His body is of a God, face of an angel, but I am believing he may be a spawn of the devil himself.

He looks to be carved from stone and then daintily painted on where his tattoos glisten over his skin.

I’m a complete fool to constantly be finding myself here with this madman.

My skin tingles with the knowledge of this time is different.

He is after more than claiming me or punishing me.

The light reflecting off the tip of his knife quickly pulls my attention to focus solely on him.

“What are you going to do?”

“I want to watch my wildflower wither underneath me.

Let’s start keeping a tally of every time I punish you.

When we get to fifteen, I’ll up the punishment.” His eyes are haunted and high as a bear on coke.

Far past being in a stable mindset.

With those last words, he punctures my skin with the tip of the knife.

Dragging it deep and through.

All I can do is scream through the twisting pain.

“That’s right.

Scream for me, bleed for me, Amity.” When I think he is done cutting me, he pushes his cock into my heat hard and fast.

Pounding into my stiff body.

I writhe in pain and I hate how my inner core caves to him every damn time, but it’s all she has ever known.

Even when he knicks my breasts and arms in the process of telling me he loves me, he owns me.

At some point, I black out from exhaustion of hours of being fucked, licked, cut, and the pain.

He waltzes in with a tray of orange juice and my favorite breakfast of Belgian waffles covered in powdered sugar and blueberries.

Placing the tray on the bed, he says, “Here, let me help you.

Sorry, I should have untied those before I left to make breakfast, but you looked so perfect and blissful.” I do my best to hide my face of shock.

Shock of, who the fuck are you right now? “Here, let me carry you to the bathroom.” I can’t even protest before he picks me up, carries me, sitting me down gently on the toilet.

In the midst of me peeing, I watch him pull out the saline solution and Neosporin.

Once I flush, he picks me back up, sitting me on the cold marble countertop.

I watch quietly in horror as he tends to clean every mark he made last night with the solution, then applying the Neosporin so it won’t scar.

“My beautiful wildflower, I made such a mess of you last night.

My apologies if I hurt you.

But I won’t apologize for needing to be embedded in you in every way.” He kisses me up my arm, then nuzzles my neck.

In this moment, I come to full realization that I married a fucking sociopath with no escape.

Back to my present life; maybe I should have followed up with a therapist like everyone suggested.

Though I think I am doing just fine now.

I know how to beat a man's ass if his touch is unwanted, my sweet gullible self no longer exists, and my heart is stone-cold sober.

Finding the pain with pleasure was difficult until I found the right people.

Now, I indulge in what I want, when I want, as long as it leaves a mark when I’m through.

* * *

BLAKE

We are on the plane for a summer adventure we planned together as friends with benefits only.

I can’t help but think back to where each of us were a year ago.

I find myself chuckling under my breath at how one time, I despised her.

Now, here we are.

At this moment, she sleeps in a curled-up ball, with her head in my lap.

The first time I caught a glimpse of Amity was when she took the stage at one of Paramour's fundraising events.

All of who’s who in San Antonio was slated to be in attendance.

Not really being my brother's kind of scene, I, of course, represented the Holdings’ name with no hesitation.

This club showcases luxury and an enthralling sex vibe for all alluring and captivating people in this city.

I don’t remember the fundraiser cause at all, but her body and voice was embedded into my brain.

The local band had been playing a good mix of dance, rock, and country.

Then the lead singer invited her on stage, stating he loved her on stage with him as much as he loved to roll in the sheets with her.

I’ll be honest, he did not strike me as the straightest man in the club, but people surprise me all the time .

Before I knew it, some enticing chick strutted up on stage in tight, skimpy red shorts, a black laced corset that illuminated all her curves, busting breasts, topped off with fuck me right now knee-high heel boots laced to the top.

I was transfixed on her, even though she was not my typical platinum blonde big boobed bracket.

Once the music started, she tossed her long black hair around, then started to rock her hips in sync to the beat.

Once her mouth opened, everyone in the club screamed for her.

Realizing I heard the song, River, a few times on the radio, her voice owned the song like it was only hers.

Drawing me in, I pulled a few buddies with me as we made our way closer to the stage.

I soon had the best view in the house of her sliding on her knees, her hand tantalizing, slowly easing down her body in front me as she sang with fervor.

Her voice, raspy and sultry, caused goosebumps to rise over my whole body.

I was bound and determined to meet this girl.

But once she jumped offstage, she was lost in the crowd.

When I found her later in the night, she was sandwiched between some gorgeous blonde and not a bad-looking guy making out on their way out of the club.

My friend Josh had made some rounds to find out more with not much luck, other than her name was Amity, she frequents the club often, and likes to play .

In Josh’s and my terms, that’s code for getting around.

I found myself intrigued enough to make the decision to approach her next time I saw her.

The next time was a couple weeks later when she waltzed into Paramour on a Friday night as if she had just come from the rodeo.

Hell, maybe she did since she was in tight jeans, a plaid button-up shirt, adorned with a huge-ass sparkling rodeo belt buckle.

Not soon after that, she was on stage with the local band of that night, saluting her middle finger.

Taking in her more natural vibe, I noticed her face was of a darkened angel with ice for eyes, body petite with her cow-boots, maybe getting her to five-foot-five.

Her voice, still raspy and breathless, but haunting and divine.

She held the crowd in the palm of her hand, all saluting her with their middle finger.

When the song ended, she threw back a shot of whiskey, and I immediately wrote her off as classless.

Nope , that is crazy , waiting to happen.

Soon, I noticed we were frequenting the same Thursday and Saturday nights.

Thursday nights, I typically entertain my more eccentric clients who like to indulge in drag shows, drinks named after sexual acts, and change it up a bit with the spouse.

Saturday nights were my night to let loose and find the next new fine piece of ass I could take to my bed.

Sometimes multiple.

Though I had deemed Amity beneath me, she always drew my attention no matter where she was in the club.

It was like I had radar just for her; that would go off when she was near.

Over time, she became a nuisance.

One night she would roll up in there as if she came from the barn, the next she would ooze sex.

Either way, she walked around the club like she owned the place.

Then I found out she was tight with the owners.

But was that inexcusable for the behavior of making out with men and women left and right.

Kneeing men in the balls if they touched her, or slap a woman because she was in her space? Now, I don’t know the back stories, nor did I care enough back then to figure them out.

She annoyed me with her crass mouth that I could sometimes hear over the pumping music.

To top all the other bullshit off, this woman would never look my way, regardless of if I was the most handsome and richest man in the room.

The night Nash and Willa found each other, I had taken a glance at the girls with her.

They were all beautiful in their own distinct way, as they were a palate of hair colors, features, and personalities.

Though at a glance, Amity looked familiar that night; but I had other things on my mind and was stoked for Nash, who seemed genuinely interested in someone.

Now, the night we all randomly ended up at Paramour together and Willa introduced all of us, I was taken aback being that close to Amity.

The tension was already building up.

Electricity crackled through the air.

When we shook hands, the feeling of fire spread through my body so quickly I yanked my hand out of hers.

The questionable look on her face told me she had felt something similar.

It was at that moment my heart started to beat to hers, and I stayed glued to her side the rest of the night.

The days following that night, Nash gave me the 4-1-1 on Amity along with warnings.

She was OFF limits.

The last thing she needed was a playboy in her life unless I was invited.

Per Willa, she was unobtainable unless I just wanted a one-night stand.

Well, I had already gotten her for a few other nights and mornings at that point, so not completely impassable.

Told me Amity likes to dabble in sexual quests, which Nash found amusing because then he thought maybe we would be perfect for each other.

Then he remembered I didn’t do relationships either.

I laughed when he told me most see Amity as a bitch, but that she really is a sweetheart with rough edges.

Honestly, I had thought the same thing for months leading up till then.

The girl I had been getting to know was adventurous, attentive, took what she wanted, unapologetic, and I found I was the most satisfied when I could make her laugh.

Amity has the best heartfelt, charming laugh I have ever heard.

Making her laugh has become one of my daily goals along with multiple orgasms.

I had soon found myself only wanting to be with her, regardless of the women who tried to lay in my bed.

I had an obscene need for her salacious-ness and was becoming more enamored with her each day.

Now I am madly in love with this woman who has undone all sense in my world.

Nothing but her makes sense now, and I need to convince her to be mine on this trip.

I’m all for rolling in the sheets with others as long as her final ounce of pleasure comes from me solely.

But even the sharing is starting to wear on me.

I find myself plotting a guy's death when he sinks his dick into her or how can I strangle the blonde when she laps my girl up in ecstasy? I will say, though, she only allows me to bring her pain now.

Whether that is biting, pressure from my hands, whipping, or whatever she fathoms, she only trusts me.

Amity has been a tough cookie to bite into, especially when she wants pain with her pleasure.

Over the months, I have slowly been able to dive a little deeper in that head of hers, but not enough to understand where her thought process stems from.

I only hope once this trip is over, we find ourselves on an even playing field.

I am Blake Fucking Holdings, who always takes what I want, receives what I need, and Amity Mercer will be mine.