by James, Gemma
Where the heck was I?
I parted my lips, but a feeble groan came out. The floor swayed underneath me.
No. I was the one moving, swinging upside down with my dark curls brushing the rough cement. A chair scraped behind me, and clothing rustled, drowned out by the soft thump of footsteps. I sensed the heat of his body before his clothes brushed my skin. Two sickeningly familiar palms kneaded my ass, fingers reaching close to the center of my traitorous cunt.
“Don’t you fucking touch her!”
Rafe. I lifted my head and found him bound in chains.
Oh my God.
Nikki lay on the ground beside his feet in a puddle of blood.
We were back in the tunnel, only this time Zach was our tormenter.
I sobbed at the sight of Rafe. He sported a busted lip, and his left eye was swollen shut, lost to the ugly plum, mustard, and blue skin that puffed around his lid. And Nikki…she was dead. There was no saving her. We were all here because of me.
“She’ll beg me to touch her,” Zach said, running a finger up my slit. I was beet red with shame, afraid to look at Rafe because I’d only find repulsion.
“This changes nothing, babe. Do you hear me?” Rafe shouted. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”
Zach stomped across the room and shoved a cloth between Rafe’s teeth. When he turned around, he did so with a devious smile. He sauntered to me, unbuttoning his jeans and yanking his zipper down to reveal his erection springing toward me at eye-level.
“I know you love us both,” Zach said, gripping my head so I couldn’t turn away, “but you have a decision to make.”
“What decision?” I cried, my eyes stinging.
“You need to decide which one of us gets to live.”
I jerked awake with a silent scream, mouth wide open in horror. Huffing in fast and shallow breaths, I gazed at Rafe’s side of the bed and found it empty. The clock glowed an eerie 12:02 a.m.
We’d gone to bed over an hour ago, but where was he?
Sliding from the sweat-drenched sheets, I tiptoed into the sitting area and found him festering in the dark.
“Rafe?” My voice came out hollow, small, and I had to say his name again before he realized I stood in the shadows, burrowing into them, finding comfort in the obscurity of blackness.
How strange that darkness comforted at a time like this, right after I’d awakened thrashing in the sheets, sweat drenching my skin, unable to scream because terror had lodged in my throat. I raised my hand, then halted half way to my arm, nails aching to dig in.
Rafe and I exchanged a meaningful glance, and I dropped my hand. But the need to get lost in the sting of pain was overbearing, strangling…strong enough to make a person go mad. I ached to feel his hand on my ass, but I didn’t think I deserved it—not after the twisted dreams I’d been having for the past few nights.
Since the day Rafe revealed his son to me, life had gone on in an odd, surreal way. I’d spent my days chained to the bedroom floor while he left to train for the upcoming match with Zach. Nothing I said or did would change his mind about fighting my brother.
He said he was doing it for me…for us. But I didn’t believe him. He harbored an immeasurable amount of rage. Since Rafe had decided not to take it out on me, Zach was the only one left, the true culprit—in Rafe’s eyes—responsible for everything. For his imprisonment, the destruction of his family’s legacy, and even the murder of his son’s mother.
But we weren’t on the same page. We weren’t even in the same book. I’d had a choice; lie or tell the truth, and I’d made the wrong call. The worst decision of my life had ricocheted for years, not only destroying Rafe but the lives of so many others. Maybe he could forgive me for it, make excuses for my reprehensible behavior, but I couldn’t forgive myself no matter how often he spanked me or demanded I let the guilt go. Nothing had the power to abolish this sense of culpability I carried around, and it was manifesting in my dreams.
The first night I dreamed of Zach’s tongue between my thighs, I thought I’d vomit all over Rafe as he slept at my side. How I managed to silence my disgusted sobs without waking him, I didn’t know. I’d toyed with the idea of telling him, especially when he gave me a certain look—like he knew something was wrong and I was keeping it from him.
“Why are you out here?” I asked.
“Couldn’t sleep. Too keyed up, I guess.”
I gulped. The fight was tomorrow. A few hours ago, he’d received a text alerting him to keep an eye out for another text disclosing the time and location. No wonder he couldn’t sleep. No wonder I was having bad dreams.
We were living in a real life nightmare.
He rose slowly, and his bare feet padded across the space. He set two gentle hands on my shoulders. So gentle, yet those fingers could wield crushing strength around my throat, were immovable when they held my chin in place during a lecture.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, studying my face. If I told him nothing was wrong, he’d know. This was it—the moment I’d known was coming. He was about to force my hand.
But I wanted to be open with him. I wanted to be able to tell him anything and everything, the way I expected him to. Fair was fair.
“I…” Clearing my throat, I tried again, but nothing came out.
He frowned. “What do you need from me, babe? Tell me.”
“You know what I need. Don’t make me say it.”
“Not only are you gonna say it, but you’re gonna beg for it.” He lowered his face, hungry lips lingering close.
Too close.
I couldn’t decide if I wanted to kiss him, or bend over and offer him my ass.
“Hurt me,” I whispered. “Please, Rafe. Hurt me in a way that makes me feel good.”
“Get on your knees,” he said, his palms applying pressure to my shoulders. Allowing my knees to buckle, I lowered to my haunches. The floor welcomed me with unbearable hardness. I squirmed, spread my thighs, and clasped my hands at my back, the way I knew he liked.
Not many would understand how cherished I felt at that moment when he commanded my eyes and brushed his fingers through my curls.
“I was hoping you’d tell me on your own, but you’ve been silently stewing for days. Enough is enough. What’s bothering you?”
I opened my mouth, but words failed me. How could I tell him about the dreams without sounding like a total whore?
“I’ve been having nightmares.”
“Okay,” he said with patience, trailing his fingers through my hair still, nearly hypnotizing me with his touch. “Unload them on me.”
I dropped my gaze to his feet. “I don’t…I can’t remember details.”
“You’re lying to me.” His fingers curled at my scalp and pulled in warning. “You know how that will end.”
I wanted to deny it, but I couldn’t bring myself to perpetuate the lie. “Don’t make me tell you this.” I swallowed past the lump of shame clogging my throat. “I’m naked, on my knees, willing to do anything. What more do you want from me?”
“The truth. Isn’t that how this works? You’re not weaseling your way out of this one. If you need the bite of pain, I’ll give it to you. But I want to know why first. You’re not punishing yourself anymore. That’s my burden now.”
“I’m not punishing my—”
“Do I need to make your ass burn for lying?”
“No,” I said quickly, cringing at the thought of my bottom flaming from ginger. That was probably the one thing I despised most. The pain of his belt or hand gave me the sting I craved…needed, but the intensity of that evil stuff was beyond my limits.
“Then start talking. This is the third night you’ve had a nightmare. What’s haunting you?”
I hadn’t realized he’d known. And here I thought I’d been clever by keeping the dreams to myself. I shifted, gritting my teeth against the floor under my knees. “Can I get up first?”
He pulled the waistband of his pajama pants below his hard-on. “Give me
your mouth, and I’ll think about it.” He yanked on my curls and drew me closer to his straining shaft. “When you’re ready to confess what’s really bothering you, I’ll let you get up. Until then, I’m gonna make you choke on my cock. I’ve got a lot of stamina built up, so you might be down there for a while.”
I peeked at his imposing form. God, he was beautiful. That expanse of muscle and the sexy lines of ink that was as much a part of him as his domineering nature.
“Open your mouth,” he said, his voice raspy, breathless. Caging me between his body and the wall, he shot a palm out and propped himself up as he nudged my lips with his erection.
I felt undeniably exposed with my legs spread wide and my hands at my back. Heat flared at my center, but there would be no relief until I spilled. Just empty space and chilly air to tease me. I fastened my lips around him, drawing in a deep breath, and gave up on the idea of begging him for what I wanted, needed.
His belt on my ass.
Him telling me I wasn’t a worthless, unlovable whore.
Him inside me. Now.
God, I needed all those things more than my next breath, so I sucked his cock with vigor, laving my tongue on the underside of his shaft, around the head, flicking lightly over the slit, before taking him deep. Over and over again—lick, swirl, flick, and suck him hard. All the while, I kept my gaze latched on his face.
“Your mouth is fucking heaven.” He groaned, neck straining as he tilted his head back. He fisted my hair and pulled me closer, plunging past my tonsils. I gagged, struggling not to struggle, and gagged again. I whined around his shaft, my eyes burning from the position he’d forced me into.
“Fuck. Feels so good when you gag.”
Shit, I was in trouble. I closed my eyes and tried not to panic, reminding myself that this was Rafe, and he wouldn’t hurt me.
He just had tastes.
Don’t panic.
I sucked in air through my nose and tried to get my gag reflex under control. Another long groan splintered the air, and he started thrusting.
Fast.
Hard.
Like a driven man.
Then he tempered the rhythm, pushing between my lips slow and gentle like he had all the time in the world to fuck my mouth.
Stamina, he’d said. He wasn’t kidding.
But this was about more than getting head. I’d waited too long to come to him, had suffered in silence and hid the reason. That’s why he was so worked up, so pissed off. I’d demanded he open up to me in the shower, then I’d turned around and done the opposite.
He sped up the tempo again, plundering my mouth until my eyes stung from the pain. I wrung my fingers behind me to keep from shoving him away because that would only make this worse for me. My job was to kneel and take it. So I took his cock and ignored the slurping noises escaping my lips. He slipped in and out, and each time he hit the back of my throat, I dry-heaved, a thrust away from vomiting. Let it be over soon.
Without warning, he pulled out.
“You ready to tell me the truth now?”
After the rough blowjob, my head was in a fog. I searched through my mind for what it was he wanted me to tell him. Zach. The dreams. How the hell could I confess now, especially when he had me on my knees with his cock in my face?
“It’s the fight. I’ve been having nightmares about it.” At least it was partially true.
He scrutinized my face, seeming to consider my words. “You’re a shitty liar.”
“Rafe, please—” He silenced me with his cock again, his hooded green eyes peering at me, irises dark and vacant, save for the rampant need in them.
“Do you know what happens when you lie to me?” With a raspy grunt, he held my head in place as he positioned his tip between my lips. “You get your mouth washed out.” His fingers tightened in my hair. “I’m gonna come,” he said, groaning. “Hold it in your mouth. Do not spit or swallow.”
My eyes widened as he pumped his release onto my tongue. The way he threw his head back, eyes closed in ecstasy, ignited me. But this wasn’t about my pleasure—this was a way for him to punish me for lying to him.
He slipped out inch by inch. I pressed my lips together and hollowed out my cheeks, so I didn’t spill any of his hot, thick cum.
“Don’t move.” He stalked into the bedroom, and I heard him rifling through the drawers. He returned with a fistful of clothespins, and my stomach dropped. A chill of fear and anticipation swept over me. I felt ridiculous with my cheeks rounded out, full of his jizz.
“You’d better keep that mouth full because I have ginger waiting to be used in the fridge if you don’t.” He pulled me to my feet, ran a finger along my slit, and a dark smile graced his face. “While you’re thinking about how you got yourself into this predicament, I’m gonna play with your cunt—your very beautiful, very wet cunt—but you aren’t coming until I give you permission. Got it?”
I nodded, and he brushed his thumb over my mouth. A small amount of his cum dribbled down my chin.
“You know better than to waste any of that.” Grabbing a clothespin between his thumb and forefinger, he clamped it over my nose.
I tried so fucking hard not to panic, squirming instead of opening my mouth as my lungs burned for air. But holy hell, if it didn’t take every last ounce of self-control I had to hold the position. His salty cum collected at my lips, threatening to trickle out.
“Are you in control here?” he asked, his gaze pinning me more than the strongest pair of cuffs would.
I jerked my head back and forth.
“Am I in control here, sweetheart?”
“Mmm-hmmm,” I moaned, bobbing my head.
“Next time you think it’s a good idea to lie to me, you’d better be ready for the consequences.”
My heart thundered in my ears, and I was mere seconds away from spewing his cum all over the both of us. I needed to breathe!
As if my huge eyes imparted my desperate need for oxygen, he removed the pin. I sucked air through my nose, pulling it deep into my lungs, and thought my heart would pound right out of my chest.
But Rafe wasn’t done playing with me. He trailed his fingertips down the sides of my breasts, over my ribcage, and dipped a finger into my drenched center. Twisting my nipple between his teeth, he pulled, all the while keeping his eyes on mine. Grabbing another clothespin, he released my nipple and clamped it. The grip of that clothespin was torture, yet I liquefied even more around his finger moving in and out of me in unhurried slides.
His lips followed the valley between my breasts as he journeyed to the other side. I tensed, preparing for the pain of his teeth, followed by another clothespin. He seemed to take forever drawing my nipple outward until I could hardly stand the pain. By the time he fastened the second makeshift clamp, my other nipple had gone blessedly numb.
“I love your tits. I love your ass. I love everything about you. I love how you’re holding my cum in your mouth, just because I said so. I fucking love how you’re taking the pain.” He palmed his hard shaft. “Look what you do to me. My cock is incapable of quitting you.”
I blinked against the burn in my eyes, hating my slow surrender to the pull of his words.
“Rule number four,” he reminded me with a growl.
Just like that, the floodgates opened, and my tears hung on my lashes. Then they spilled over so his ravenous tongue could feast on them.
20. NOBODY PRAYING FOR ME
Rafe
The salt of her tears sent me into a frenzy, and my insufferable cock twitched at the taste. I was free to fuck her now without the worry of fathering another kid. I wondered if she realized that. I hoped she did, because if she forced me to punish her with ginger again…
Damn it to hell. I didn’t want to do it. I wanted her to be real with me so we could tumble into bed and forget the fucking world existed for a while.
“Spit, babe. I wanna see my cum all over those beautiful tits.” I wanted to make sure she hadn’t discreetly swallowed; the show was
a bonus.
Parting her lips, she let my cum dribble over her chin and onto her heaving tits. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders, curls a tempting tangled mess that teased her pink cheeks.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” I removed the clothespins from her nipples, loving the way she hissed air between her teeth from the sudden rush of blood. “Let’s try this again. What’s bothering you?”
She twisted her head to the side. Sensing how difficult this was for her, I allowed her that bit of space while I grabbed a towel from the galley.
“Do I need to get the ginger out?” I asked as I passed her the hand towel.
The frantic shake of her head was immediate. Even so, she took her time wiping my cum off her tits, and I knew she was stalling
“Babe, my cum isn’t the only thing you need to get off your chest.”
“I’ve been having dreams about Zach.”
I wanted to punish her ass into next Sunday upon hearing those words. “What kind of dreams?”
“The kind that…” She gulped. “They’re sick. I don’t understand them.” She shook her head. “Please, Rafe. I’m begging you. Let this go.”
“No fucking way in hell. You’re gonna tell me every last detail.”
“They’re sexual.” She nibbled on her lip. “He’s doing things to me.”
“What kind of things?” I asked between gritted teeth.
She closed her eyes but was unable to hide her pain. I gathered her in my arms and sent myself a swift kick in the ass for being such an idiot. She was trying so hard to obey me, and I wasn’t making this easy.
“Just tell me,” I said, softening my tone.
“We’re back in the tunnel. I’m upside down, tied up. You’re in chains. Nikki’s there—” Her voice fractured.
I slid a hand into her hair, grasping her by the nape. “Go on.”
“Zach’s taunting you, touching me…”