by Nikki Sloane
He used the word specifically to get under my skin. Why did I allow one innocuous adjective to hold so much power? It was a compliment and it made me feel warm and proud, but it also felt like a lie, too.
He held out his hand, wordlessly asking for my iPad, which I passed to him. He said goodbye to Jennifer and then we went into the office. I watched as he hooked the iPad up to the computer so he could download the new videos while we ate.
Did he notice the change between us during lunch as much as I did? The conversation flowed seamlessly for the first time as he asked about my family’s holiday traditions, and told me about his. Then, he dropped the bomb that if I wanted to go home for Thanksgiving break, I could, but it’d be with him in tow. He was my new boyfriend, after all.
“I don’t know if our relationship is serious enough,” I said, “to introduce you to my parents yet.”
He blinked slowly. “Is that a joke?”
“Maybe,” I whispered. “The truth is, I don’t know if I can prepare my parents for you. You’re . . . pretty intense.”
For a fraction of a second he seemed amused. “We’ll be fine. I can dial that back if I have to.” The word we lingered. Strange, but not unpleasant. Luka’s expression returned to his serious one. “Your task for this afternoon. Hold on, I’ll go get it.”
My nerves swirled. What sinful, dirty assignment was he going to give me? I waited with held breath as he left the table, disappeared through the doorway, only to return a moment later carrying the iPad.
“Memorize this as far as you can.”
He set it in front of me and the screen was full of numbers. I gave him a skeptical look. This was what he wanted?
“You look disappointed.” He smirked as if he could tell I was expecting a different kind of chore. “Is this too hard for you?”
“Rote memorization? Of course not. I’m just thinking about the last time you had me reciting pi.” Since that horrible morning, Luka hadn’t been as cruel or scary.
His expression gave nothing away. “That, like the bathtub, was necessary. Neither of those were fun for me either, but I had to break you, Addison.” He sighed. “I had to, so my father wouldn’t.”
π
The house seemed to grow twenty degrees colder when the sun set, but I wondered if his absence contributed as well. He burned hot enough to heat whatever room we were in together. So I was curled up on the couch in the office, the blanket covering me, when Luka arrived home from work.
“How’s school, darling?” he asked, throwing my attitude laced comment from Monday back at me. I couldn’t tell if he’d meant it to be light and teasing, or mocking. He walked the perfect line between.
“Fine,” I said. “I finished a while ago, so now I’ve just been sitting around, waiting for you.”
He gave me a dark look. “I gave you an assignment, so I hope that’s not true.”
I pushed the quilt off and stood, setting my hands on my hips. “You want to hear about your assignment? Three point one four one five nine—”
“Stop.” He held up his hand, then pointed to the doorway. “Upstairs.”
I marched behind him, wondering if he meant my room or his. He turned left at the top of the stairs, and I slowed a step. Since he’d given me freedom from my prison, I spent as little time as possible in the green striped bedroom.
When I stepped inside and turned, his hands closed on my waist, and he walked me backward toward the bed. My nerves twisted in my stomach.
His expression was authoritarian. “Undo your pants. Everything down to your knees, and lean over the bed.”
My legs went weak. “What?”
“I want your ass in the air by the time I get back.”
He strode quickly from the room, leaving me spinning. My fingers were made of lead as I undid the button of my pants, and clawed both them and my panties down. I set my elbows flat on the mattress and forced myself to control my breathing. The tremble was already working its way up my legs. Being exposed like this was almost worse than being naked. My hands itched to pull the fabric back up and cover myself. Instead, I stayed as I was, staring at the green stripes that were symbolic bars.
I was short of breath as he returned and shut the door, closing us in together. He was carrying a small black bag, and he dropped it by my feet with a thump. His hand curved over my bare flesh, and a soft sound of appreciation slipped from him.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he said, his voice low. “Did you?”
His fingers brushed over my slit, making me swallow a breath.
“Hmm?” The fingers became more invasive, and he teased my clit. “I didn’t hear you. Were you less than perfect today? Did you waste any of my time and disobey me?”
“No.” It came from me hurried.
“Good.”
He sank a finger inside my body, all the way to the knuckle. I opened my mouth to gasp, but I didn’t make a sound. I arched back into his touch. It was shocking how immediately the pleasure came. I may have been shy and nervous, but I was also incredibly aroused. He was in total command, and when that happened, I was free to feel however I wanted.
“So wet for me.”
I closed my eyes and enjoyed how he stood beside me, one hand on the hollow of my back and the other pressing slowly inside my body. A moan escaped, and it sounded like a desperate whine. But it cut off abruptly when his damp fingers slid upward through my valley, coursing through my cheeks.
Luka’s wicked chuckle threw me into chaos, and he pressed his hand firm against my back. “Do you want me to tie you up, or can you hold still?”
What the hell kind of question was that? I couldn’t answer without tacitly giving my consent to whatever he was planning. So I said nothing at all. And I was well aware it didn’t matter anyway. He’d get his way.
His fingers stirred over my pussy and repeated their path, skirting a line upward. Maybe it felt good, but the sense that it was dirty overruled everything else. I jolted from his obscene touch.
“This body is mine.” His tone was firm. “Repeat it.”
His dominance had so much weight, I sank forward and turned to rest a cheek against the mattress, keeping my eyes closed. “This body is yours.”
Luka moved, kneeling behind me. My heart was pounding up in my throat, blocking my ability to breathe, and then it wasn’t a problem. I stopped breathing completely as he licked me, all the way from front to back.
My knees went weak. It felt good, but it was horrifying. I whimpered and balled the comforter beneath my hands into fists, clutching at the fabric as my knuckles turned white. This time when he did it, he stayed. His tongue moved at the tight circle of muscles, and I gave a cry of panic. Holy fuck, what was he doing? I reached a hand behind me and tried to ease him back.
“I’m asking again.” This time his tone was razor sharp. “You want me to tie you up, or stay still?”
I was so flustered by his actions I couldn’t think straight. I had no idea which was the right answer, and my muscles were so tense I couldn’t move. “Luka.”
His hands were warm on my ass cheeks, lifting and separating, and this time when he leaned in and sent his tongue wandering over my flesh, I groaned. My body delivered the signal loud and clear to my mind it was pleasurable, but my brain fired back I was disgusting.
I clawed at the sheets as he tore me apart with his ruthless mouth.
My legs rattled against the bedframe as his tongue ceased, giving me a reprieve. I was vaguely aware he was moving. I heard a strange sort of click, but couldn’t place the sound, not until something cold and wet was dripping on me. He’d uncapped a bottle, and . . . oh, no. He was putting lube on me.
“W-Wait,” I cried. “What are you doing?” I pushed up on my elbows and tried to stand.
His hand came down on my ass with a loud crack, and pain thundered up my spine. “Whose body is this?”
I stayed on my elbows and breathed through the stinging heat his punishment had left me with. My voice
broke on the word. “Yours.”
His shadow fell beside me on the bed as he stood. “Mine.”
Something cold and smooth like metal was nudged between my cheeks, prodding for entrance.
“No!” I jerked up.
He was ready for my reaction. I was shoved down on the bed at the same time he dropped something beside me. As I scrambled up, he twisted my arms behind my back, just as he’d done a week ago. He secured my wrists with one hand and scooped the toy up, but not before I got a look. The small silver plug had a heart-shaped base, and the jewel at the end glittered the color of sin.
“Yes,” he said. “Mine. Mine to have any way I want, anywhere I want.”
The plug moved through the lubrication he’d put on me, and when he’d found the spot he wanted, there was pressure. I choked on air, swallowing huge gasps as it began to intrude.
“That’s it,” he said, his voice low and carnal.
My body pushed back, not wanting the penetration, but there was nowhere to escape, and the uncomfortable stretch grew. I whimpered as the toy slid deeper, every fraction of an inch burning worse than the last. I struggled against the hand holding me down, but my twisting made it hurt more.
“Hold still, luče,” he whispered. “That’s right.” The pressure began to ease, and the intrusion stopped. “Oh, fuck me. Good girl.”
He released me, and both of his hands smoothed over my back, caressing. It was lodged inside me, the heart-shaped base against my skin. I felt uncomfortably full, and . . . heavy. I lay still on the bed, my chest heaving, as Luka’s hands continued to trail over me. I endured his sensual touch while I pulled my mind back together.
Slowly, the burning sensation began to fade and shift. I could feel it with every breath, but it didn’t hurt. It was . . . odd. I blinked and tried to decide if I hated it, but, no. Hate was too strong of a word. I wasn’t even sure if I disliked it.
“Addison.”
I blew out a shuddering breath.
His command was spoken softly. “Stand up.”
Hell, that I could really feel. I pushed up on my shaky arms, lifting myself off the bed. The fullness and weight was stronger now, and each movement made me aware.
He lingered to the side and his words traveled over my shoulder. “Get dressed.”
I clamped my teeth tight together to hold in the question. How long was he going to leave me like this? I fumbled with my pants, gingerly pulling them back in place, and did up my fly.
“Look at me.”
I turned and faced him. His expression was drenched in desire, and his eyes burned with power. I stood stock-still as he trapped me in his embrace, one hand twisted in my hair and forcing my gaze up to meet his.
“You have no idea how fucking hot you look like this. Your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are wild, trying not to show what’s going on inside. But I know. I’ll always know.” His grip pulled my hair taut with an edge of pain. “Go downstairs, pour a glass of wine, and bring it to me.”
My shoulders tensed.
His lips turned up in a cruel smile. “Make sure you ask Whitney for her recommendation.”
Chapter
Twenty
As my body grew accustomed to the plug, it became easier to move around, but every step down the staircase made my anxiety grow, just as Luka had intended. Would his personal chef know about the dirty secret in my body the second she laid eyes on me? I used to have a great poker face, but that was cards.
She stood at the kitchen island, a pair of tongs in her hand as she supervised dinner. A pot steamed on the sophisticated gas range, but her focus was on the grill top, where lamb chops were cooking.
“Hello,” I said over the grill’s ventilation fan. My cheeks were burning.
She glanced up and did a double-take. Whitney’s bright gaze scanned me and a smile stretched on her face. “Why, hello, Addison.”
Luka’s personal chef appeared to be in her late thirties. She had rich brown hair, cropped short and it swept across her forehead. I was instantly struck by how maintained she was. The exceptional organization of her meals should have shown me how organization extended into all aspects of her life. Even her apron was a perfect white.
“I was wondering when I was going to meet you,” she said, her eyes glittering. “Luka wouldn’t let me ask, so I’ve been making extra meals in case you have any dietary restrictions.”
“Oh,” I said. “No, I’m not allergic to anything.”
“Yay!” she joked. “Shellfish is back on the menu.” She picked up one of the chops and turned it. “I’m Whitney, by the way.” The tongs were set down and she extended her hand for a shake.
I’d swear I could feel the toy more the longer I remained in her presence. “Nice to meet you.” I didn’t want to seem rude and tried not to speak in a rush. “Luka asked for a glass of wine before dinner. What do you recommend?”
She thought for a moment. “There’s a California cabernet that’ll go nicely with this lamb.”
I stood in silence as she went to the wine fridge, checked labels, and pulled out the bottle she was looking for. Whitney moved with precision while she opened the wine, and thirty seconds later she handed me the poured glass.
“Thank you,” I squeaked out.
She noticed my hand trembling, but said nothing. Instead, she gave me a friendly, curious smile, and nodded.
I trudged up the stairs and down the hallway back to him, careful not to spill the red wine. I lingered with my hand on the door knob, drawing in a deep breath to calm my nerves before pushing it open.
Didn’t matter, I wasn’t prepared.
Luka must have moved the new piece of furniture in while I was downstairs. I wasn’t sure what it was exactly, and I stared at it with dread. The piece was black and similar to a construction sawhorse, only there was padding covered with vinyl at the top. Buckle cuffs decorated all four legs.
I almost spilled the glass, but Luka snatched it out of my hand just in time.
“Breathe,” he ordered, setting the wine down on the dresser and locking me in his arms, keeping me from bolting. “This is like the clock. It’s another tool to help us get to where we need to be.”
I couldn’t rip my gaze away from the damn thing. He was going to restrain me to it and do unspeakable things. That fear was paralyzing.
“Look at me.” It took an enormous amount of strength to comply. His expression was serious. “This experience can be as pleasurable as you want. I’d prefer that.” His eyes flooded with lust. “You sound so amazing when you come. I’ve watched the video you took, like, fifty fucking times.” He turned me in his arms, pressing me back against his chest so we were both looking at the thing and his lips were beside my ear. “It’s just a bench. There’s nothing to be scared of.”
Was he serious? “What about you?”
I couldn’t see his knowing, evil smile, but I sensed it. He brushed my hair off of my neck and out of his way, planting a slow, lingering kiss there. “When we’re doing this, you’re not scared of me, you’re scared of how you feel when you’re with me.”
“Nope,” I said. “Pretty sure I’m just terrified of you.” It was a lie and I was certain we both knew it.
He picked up the glass of wine, turned his head to the side, and drank. “Then, get over it during dinner.”
“Dinner?” New dread poured into my belly. I’d thought we were going to continue whatever he’d started and use the new tool he’d moved into the room. “What about the . . . the . . .”
“The plug in your ass?” He said it so casually I hated him a little again. “It stays. I want you thinking about how my cock’s going to feel there later.”
He had to hold me up as I sagged in his arms. I couldn’t catch my breath. And he was absolutely right. I was plenty nervous about him doing that, but it wasn’t half as scary as the idea I might end up liking it.
π
It was the most uncomfortable dinner yet. Not just because of the toy, but because I couldn’t
focus on anything. Trying to hold a conversation with me was frustrating for Luka, and he often had to repeat himself. But he was the one to blame for my flustered state, which he was clearly enjoying.
He ate his dinner slowly, savoring me more than the meat. I picked at the food, just wanting this part over. The sooner we got through dinner, the sooner we’d get back to the bench and on with it. I told myself there wasn’t a single molecule of curiosity in me about what was going to happen. I wouldn’t fucking allow it.
I did, however, drink the wine he poured for me. Both glasses. When he poured himself the last of the bottle, I held my empty glass out to him.
“You’re already smiling,” he said, “so I think you’re done.”
Crap, I’d already gotten to stage one. “You didn’t care I was wasted our first time.”
His expression hardened. “That’s because I was wasted, too. I already told you, I want you to enjoy this. Not get sick and feel like death tomorrow. You ever had a wine hangover before?”
“No,” I fired back, getting mouthy from the alcohol. “Just tequila and rohypnol, Luka.”
He exhaled loudly and the muscle along his jaw ticked. “Upstairs, now.”
Luka carried the glass of wine with him, and pushed open the door to the green bedroom, gesturing like a gentleman for me to go inside. My buzzing brain prayed the bench had magically disappeared, but no. It sat, waiting for me. Or maybe . . .
“Is there a chance you’re going to be strapped down to that and not me?” I said, my voice slurring.
Amusement passed through his expression, gone as quickly as it arrived. “No. Take off your clothes.”
I’d wanted to get dinner over with, and now I wished I’d stalled. I moved achingly slow as he sat in the loveseat and watched me with a lustful gaze. I discarded my clothes one at a time on the bed until I had nothing left except what he’d put inside me.
The room was freezing, and got colder when he pointed to the bench.
I swallowed a gulp and forced my feet to move. But as I stood beside the bench, I wasn’t entirely sure what to do.