He stared at the cheap heart-shaped locket nestled between her breasts. “Why do you always wear this thing?” he asked, lifting the light, peeling piece of jewelry from its resting place.

“Uh-uh,” she said. “No.”

He glanced at her in question.

“You aren’t changing the subject. I’m not going to let you.”

He lowered his eyes again and shrugged. She drew him closer, her arms stealing around his neck.

“Tell me, Jace. No one’s here but me.”

He stroked the plastic and gold-foiled heart with his fingertips as he struggled to find words. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her. Saying his feelings out loud made his palms sweat and his heart race.

Aggie ran her fingers over the edge of his ear. “Do you miss being onstage that much?”

He shook his head slightly. He loved playing live, but not for the glory like Sed, or the excitement like Brian, or the fun like Trey, but to share the music, his soul… like Eric. That wasn’t what was bothering him though.

“Is it because Jon is out there trying his damnedest to replace you?”

He nodded.

Her fingers slid down his jaw under his chin. “Look at me.”

He took a deep breath and forced his eyes to hers. He expected her pitying look, but found her expression sincere and so caring that his heart rose to his throat, stealing his air.

“He won’t. Don’t worry. There’s only one Jace. You are one hundred percent irreplaceable.” She hugged him close, her cheek pressing against his. “Irreplaceable,” she whispered.

He shrugged out of his sling and wrapped both arms around her body, drawing her closer still. He leaned against her, holding her. No, she was holding him, comforting him. It felt good to lean on her and at the same time terrifying. He wanted to let her in. Let her see everything he was, but what if something happened to her? What if she left him? What if she died? What if she saw what was really inside him and she hated him? The way his mother had hated him… and his father… and Kara. Every person he’d ever loved had hated him before dying.

Jace jerked out of her grasp, turned away, and pressed on his temples with the heels of his hands. He had to force those memories from his thoughts. He couldn’t deal with them. Not now. Not ever. Being with Aggie kept bringing them to the surface. Things he’d thought he’d buried years ago. He didn’t know how much longer he could let her stay—for the sake of his sanity.

She hopped off the counter, leaned against his back, and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You okay?”

He twisted away, unable to stand her tenderness.

“I see,” she murmured. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I don’t want to fuckin’ talk about it.” He lifted a hand, his palm in her face. “Just give me a minute to myself.”

She grabbed him by the front of his T-shirt and pulled him toward the bedroom.

“I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”

She glared at him over her shoulder. “I’m done talking, Jace. It’s time for your punishment.”

The hard, cold look on her face had him instantly aroused. Punishment. That’s exactly what he needed. But how could she hurt him effectively? She didn’t have her tools of torture. She shoved him into the room and slammed the door. Her hands moved to the waist of his jeans. She unfastened his belt and yanked it free of the loops.

“Turn around,” she demanded.

Even without the leather and thigh-high boots, she turned him on. Her commanding demeanor was enough to get his blood pumping.

“Hit me.”

“I’ll hit you when I think you’ve earned it. You owe me an apology.”

His brow knitted with confusion. “For what?”

“Disrespect. Dismissing my concern by putting your hand in my face.”

Had he done that? He hadn’t been thinking clearly. Never did when his past intruded on his thoughts. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, Mistress V,” she said, reminding him to address her with respect.

“I’m sorry, Aggie. I just…” He turned his unfocused gaze to the floor.

“I know, baby,” she whispered. “Turn around.”

He turned.

When the leather snapped hard against his ass, his body shuddered. She hit him in the exact same spot again. Again. Each time the pain intensified, and his cock grew harder. He knew there was something wrong with him. This connection between sexual excitement and physical pain. But he couldn’t help it. And Aggie gave him exactly what he needed without criticizing. She understood.

Understood him. He didn’t know how. Wasn’t sure he wanted her to.

She kept all her stinging blows to his ass. He wanted to feel the bite of the leather against his bare flesh, but she hadn’t told him to remove his clothes.

“Is your cock hard, Jace?”

“Yes.” He sucked the word between his teeth.

“Show me. Unfasten your pants and pull it out for me to see.”

He did what she said, growing even harder as he released his cock from its confines.

“Very nice,” she murmured. “Do you want me to strike your bare ass?”

“Please.”

“Lower your pants to your knees.”

Trembling with anticipation, he eased his jeans down his hips and thighs.

“Your skin is already really red. Are you sure about this?”

“Ah God, Aggie. Hurt me. Please, hurt me.”

“Well, since you pleaded so nicely.”

The belt cracked as it struck the sensitized skin of his ass. His body jerked, and he gasped. He focused on the pain, needing it as a cover, needing it to blot out the vivid pain that stained his soul black. With each lash, the white hot sensation pressed the darkness deeper, where he could pretend it didn’t exist.

After twenty or thirty strikes, Aggie moved her body against his back. She caressed his stinging, heated ass with her free hand. Cool and soothing. He shuddered with excitement as she continued to stroke him.

“Touch yourself,” she whispered in his ear.

He opened his eyes and caught her gaze in the mirror over the dresser. She was gazing at his reflection, her attention riveted to his hard cock.

“Touch myself?”

“Wrap your hand around that big cock of yours and stroke it.” She bit his ear. He shuddered again, but didn’t obey. He couldn’t bring himself pleasure. Never had before. Didn’t plan on starting now. “Do it,” she insisted.

“No.”

She backed away. “Are you disobeying your mistress?”

“I can’t, Aggie.”

“Bullshit.”

She went to the side table and pulled out the drawer where Brian kept his toys. Jace watched her warily. What was she planning on doing to him?

She pulled a bottle of oil from the drawer and squirted some into his hand. He resisted as she attempted to direct his hand to his cock.

“Aggie, don’t.”

“You seem to think the only reason you crave pain is because you deserve it.”

“I do deserve it.”

She shook her head at him. “You like it. It wouldn’t make you hard if you didn’t like it.”

“No. That’s not why,” he insisted.

“Baby, it’s okay to like it.”

“It’s weird.” He knew that it was. That’s why he tried to fool himself into thinking he needed the pain for a reason. Not because he liked it. He deserved it.

She closed their combined hands and drew his oiled hand up the length of his cock, pausing at its swollen head. Jace gasped as pleasure coursed through his body, already beyond excited by the throbbing sting in his ass.

“Maybe some people think it’s weird,” she said, “but I don’t. I like that you like it. It makes me hot to see you like this.”

“It does?” She pulled his hand down his shaft toward its base. The pleasure wasn’t nearly as intense as it had been when the pain had been fresh. It was already dissipating.

“Yeah. Tell me what you want, Jace.”

“I want…” He hesitated. “I want pain.”

“And what else?”

She slid their combined hands up his cock again. He shuddered. “And pleasure.”

“That wasn’t so hard to admit, was it?”