“And do you want to know what I’m going to do for you, trouble?”
He reads my silence like scripture, takes it as permission.
“I’m going to help you forget him,” he whispers. “Forget every touch he stole.”
I try to stay present, to hold onto his voice, but my focus narrows to the slow glide of his finger—stroking, teasing, easingme away from everything I don’t want to feel. Coaxing me toward something softer. Something mine.
“If I say no?”
The words slip out before I can catch them—bare, unscripted.
He doesn’t miss a beat. “We agreed—no safewords,” he says, voice cool and clipped, and in the same breath he throws me onto the mattress.
I hit the bed with a soft bounce, breath jolted from my lungs, but he’s already on me again—hands firm, movements deliberate. He spreads my legs with ease, no hesitation, bending and positioning each one with surgical precision. Thigh to calf, knees folded tight like a dissected equation.
And then the rope.
It winds swiftly around each limb, anchoring me in this strange, open vulnerability—trussed up like I’m being studied, or preserved.
Spatchcocked.
I can’t fight him, my arms are tied so tightly behind my back, I’m just a fish out of water, flopping around on his bed.
But I’m not on the bed long, once I’m tied to his liking he lifts me by my arms down onto my knees. And before I have time to plan ahead, he’s already unzipped his fly, his impressive dick rock-hard, waiting to be sucked on.
I’m entirely focused on his throbbing cock, but when he lifts my chin with his other hand so our eyes meet, I see the darkness within him.
The one that was there the night I was taken, the one I know was inside him when I watched him on the footage with that other woman.
And it’s fucking delicious.
“I want you to beg for it.”
Embarrassment heats my cheeks in an instant and I avert my gaze, not that it’s going to help me much now. He’s got me right where he wants me.
“Please.”
“You call that begging?” he scoffs, pinching my cheeks between his thumb and fingers. “Beg, trouble. Otherwise, I’ll make you.”
And I believe him.
“Please let me suck your cock,” I waver—and he catches it instantly. Like a firefly lured into a zapper, drawn in by the light, stunned by the voltage.
“Beg harder,” he growls, fingers tangling deep in my hair, pinning me with a ruthless grip that sends sparks snapping down my spine.
“Please,pleasegive me your coc—”
He doesn’t wait for me to finish before thrusting into my mouth. I can’t fit even half of him in, but I try all the same. His grip is so tight I can’t pull back, instead he pushes deeper until my air supply is cut off completely.
Tears well without permission. But it’s not from pain. It’s from the primal edge of surrender, the blur of want and memory and aching trust.
It’s messy, wet, and very fucking hot.
I’ll let this man do anything he wanted to my body if it means he will look at me like this for the rest of my life.
I blink up at him through my lashes—and instantly regret it.
He’s lethal. That face, carved like temptation, with that sculpted jaw dusted in stubble and lips parted just enough to ruin me.
