He wears a pained look as he crosses the room and frames my face in his hands. “No. I’m not mad at you.” I can’t stop my flow of tears even though his thumbs are working double time to stop them. What’s with all this crying? Get your shit together, girl!
“I shouldn’t have pushed you. I made you do something you didn’t want to do.” He gives me a sideways smile. It immediately makes me feel better.
“Trust me, babe. You deserved it. It definitely hurt you more than it hurt me.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” I say, rolling my eyes.
His smile widens. “Go wash your face. Take a minute. I promise you’ll feel better.”
I slowly move toward the bathroom, each step reminding me of my transgressions. My poor ass probably has zero skin left on it. After last night and today, I’m afraid it won’t ever heal. Call me stupid, but I would probably be okay if it didn’t. The reminder is comforting—it confirms that he really does exist.
My face is red and splotchy, my eyes are puffy and my nose has a crease in the center from me constantly wiping it. I look—like shit. But after I’ve had a minute alone and washed my face, Bryce was right. I do feel better.
His back is to me when I walk in the kitchen. The spoon he spanked me with is laying on the table, and I have a fleeting thought to take it and whack him across the ass just to give him a taste of his own medicine. But he turns, shitting on my plans, and I’m thankful for the interruption.
“What makes you so sure Chuck and Bass won’t say anything?” The thought of them sharing what they witnessed tonight fills me with dread. I don’t need the entire club knowing my business.
“’Cause if they do, I’ll beat the fuck outta them, take their Prospect rockers and make damn sure they never ride with another MC in the country again.” His answer is touching, really. But…damn.
“That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”
“Nope. It’s all about trust, babe. Everything always comes down to trust.” Well, it does make me feel better that they’ll have to eat through a straw if they do rat.
“How long you been in the MC?”
“Six years.”
“Oh.”
“That surprise you?”
“A little. I figured you were in longer than that.”
“Sometimes it feels like it.” There’s a distance in his voice, but he’s smiling. “You like steak?” he asks, holding up a plate filled with food.
“Of course I like steak.” I give him an incredulous look. “What kind of question is that?”
I start to pull a chair out from the table but he shakes his head. “Let’s eat on the couch. It’s a little more comfortable.” He nods toward my midsection, and I look down. Ohhh… I get it. Funny fucker, ain’t he?
After dinner, I brush my teeth and startle when I walk in the bedroom to find him sliding naked beneath the covers. Our eyes meet, and he pats his side. “In bed, Love.”
I’m hesitant to join him. The act feels too intimate—something partners would do instead of lovers. He waits patiently, as if he’s in no hurry for me to join him. But his eyes have a demanding, magnetic gaze that lures me to him. I force myself to put one foot in front of the other, slow and cautious at these feelings swarming in my chest. I welcome these foreign feelings—yet they scare the shit out of me.
But then I’m in bed. And his strong arm is around me. His scent engulfs me. The calm, steady rhythm of his heart drumming out a beat against my cheek.
It’s warm.
It’s safe.
It feels like home.
Almost instantly, I fall asleep.
Yesterday, Bryce promised me if I came without permission, that I’d spend today tied up. Well, he keeps his promises.
I’ve been dangling naked from the chains for what feels like hours. In reality, I’m sure it hasn’t been that long, but I have no sense of time. My body begs for release—not just from the restraints but from the sexual desire pulsing through me.
The constant ache is turmoil. My skin is ravenous for his touch—so eager and sensitive that even the lightest brush of his fingertips sends a bolt of electricity sizzling all the way to my core. My clit throbs. My walls constrict. Hot, liquid arousal spreads down my thighs like warm honey.
“Please!” I cry out, pulling against the restraints—widening my eyes in hopes of seeing him through the dark material covering my face.
“Remember, Love,” he says, my head jerking in the direction of his voice. “Bad girls get punished. I told you what would happen if you came when I told you not to, but you didn’t care.” He’s near. I can feel him. I try to swing my body out to meet his, but all I hit is air.
“You didn’t even try.” He’s behind me now, and I can feel his fingers tracing the fading welts on my ass. My entire body sings at his touch. The marks are no longer painful. They now only serve as a scarred reminder of what happens when I act like a brat. Which is exactly how I want to act right now.
“I hate you!” I scream, allowing my anger to surface. Damn him for doing this to me. It’s worse than any spanking. But he only chuckles—fucking chuckles.
“No, you don’t. You want me.” I feel his breath across my cheek as his voice dips. “You want me to fuck your tight little cunt that’s dripping wet for me.” He inhales deep. “You smell scrumptious. Good enough to eat.”
The sound builds deep in my belly—gaining momentum before it escapes my lips. It’s deep, rich, textured—a cross between a moan and an animalistic roar. He’s right. I want him. I want him to talk dirty to me while he fucks me hard. Then I want him to eat me … devour me … feast on my release until I’m sated and he’s full.
“I want you to learn to control it, Love. I want you to come only when I tell you to. The pleasure will be much more intense. Not just because you waited, but because you’ll have pleased me.”
“I’m ready! I’ve waited so long…” I whine, begging for something—anything at this point.
“Be quiet, Love. Feel it. Take it all in. Instead of focusing on immediate release, center your thoughts on how good it will be when you do come.” I hate this game.
“I want it now. I need it now, Bryce.”
“I know what you need, Love.” His voice is a deep rumble of warning—grim and threatening.
“Then give it to me!” I scream, twisting my body as my hands fist around the chains and lift me so I can kick at the air—hoping a flailing limb connects with his groin.
“Hush!” he snaps, his hand winding around my throat—applying just enough pressure to remind me who’s in charge here. “One more word, and I’ll spank you. Hard.”
I bite my lip, fighting against the growing urge to tell him to fuck off. I can’t see him, but I know the bastard is smiling—knowing he just uttered the magical words that will make me comply. He pulls his hand from my throat, but leaves a single digit that starts under my chin, then trails down between my breasts.
“Good girl.” I clamp down hard on the inside of my cheek to trap the whimper that threatens at his whispered words. My sex dampens—my thighs growing stickier with the appreciation in his tone.
His finger lifts, leaving me feeling chilled and alone once again. The fiery trail from just the tip of his finger simmers to cold ash. I try to do as he said and let my approaching orgasm be my focal point. But I can’t. My entire body is hypersensitive. I can feel my muscles tightening…my heart beating…my lungs constricting…the swarm of butterflies in my belly. The feelings are not dense, but sharp—making me even more aware.
He told me he’d spank me—hard—if I spoke. I really don’t want him to spank me. I don’t want to disappoint him either. But no more than a few minutes could have passed since he touched me, and I know that I won’t last much longer. I can’t. I want his attention. Even if it’s negative. Even if it hurts. I want to feel his hands on me.
“Please…” The word is so softly spoken, I wonder if he heard it. But I don’t have to wait very long to find out.
“What did I say, Love?” His voice is so close, I jump at the sound. It’s as if he knew exactly what I’d do, and was standing here waiting for it.
“To be quiet.”
“And what did I say would happen if you weren’t?”
I swallow hard, my pulse quickening as dread swims inside me at the thought of what’s to come. It embarrasses me to say the words, but I know if I don’t answer, my impending doom will be much worse. “You’d spank me,” I whisper, my lips trembling as cold fear engulfs me.
His warm breath invades my senses, making me dizzy. “That’s right.” The rich tenor of his voice drops to a harsh whisper. “If we have to do this every day, for weeks or even months, we will. How long it takes is up to you. But you will learn, Love. One way or another.”
“I’m sorry!” I cry, no longer wanting him to punish me. I can hold out—I’ll force my body to comply. I’m stronger than this. I can do it. Fear is my fuel. And he’s scaring the shit out of me.