Page 44 of Bottoms Up (Mythic Beast #4)

“All fours, cocksleeve.”

When he was in place, Silver stepped onto the little riser to put her at the correct height, gripped his hair, and — when I nodded permission — slid into his mouth, which he opened without her needing to say a word.

I didn’t need a platform to stand on. We’d placed him at the right height for my dick to ram right into his ass, and I drove into the heat of him in one vicious thrust. Enough pepper residue was left to give me a tiny taste of pain. Just the way I like it.

Atlas trembled, but stayed in place.

We used him.

We owned him.

And I owned Silver. Neither Silver nor Atlas were allowed release. I came deep inside our painwhore, though.

When it was over, I rubbed more pepper oil on a plug and crammed it into the asshole I’d just abused. It was huge going in, but only held his hole open moderately wide.

I wanted to make sure it didn’t accidentally come out.

The cock cage was lifted into the air, his cock straining in its prison. The weights on his balls had swung hard when I’d fucked him. I imagined he was quite aware of every movement his balls made.

I pointed Silver to the sofa, and put cleaning gloves on Atlas. Special ones, without a thumb, so his were pressed against his palms, making them useless. Denying him access.

“Clean, dry, and put away everything we used. Clean the floor until it’s spotless.

Clean the toilet. If you miss anything, even a millimeter, I’ll force a change tonight, and you’ll go ten days before you get pain again.

Do a perfect job and I’ll take you off the work schedule for forty-eight hours, and you won’t be allowed to change during that time. ”

He refuses to be responsible for anyone’s security when he isn’t at one hundred percent, and I can respect that. So, no working while I wanted him hurting.

I walked to Silver, lifted her into my arms, and sat on the sofa with her cradled to me. I tucked a blanket around her. Rubbed her calves. Her thighs. Massaged her hands. Kissed the top of her head.

“Can I please be allowed to jack off, Sir?”

I kissed her forehead. “I find I want to deny you, diavolino .”

My little devil. I do enjoy watching my Silver hurt Atlas.

“I don’t know how long,” I continued. “And I won’t cage your cock. You can have hard-ons, but no orgasms — dick or vaj — until the order is rescinded.” Another kiss to her forehead, and I met her gaze. “And you know I’ll be able to tell if you have one.”

* * * *

Silver

Julian was still dead to the world when I woke in my upstairs bedroom, sun streaming through the windows. I love the spring. It’s all about life returning after winter. Regrowth. Green leaves where there was just brown wood before.

I stood and stretched to discover I was sore in all the right places, and I smiled at the delicious ache of my night with Julian — thighs, cunt, belly, ass. Completely earned.

My belly twinged, innards protesting when I stretched, still tender from the inside. I didn’t mind. I liked the reminder. I liked remembering.

My cunt throbbed with every shift of my legs, but the danger was that it might get me too close to an unauthorized orgasm.

I desperately needed release, but even that denial was okay. For now, anyway. It was hot in the short term, but I hoped he didn’t stretch it past a week or two.

After our final days in Vegas, full of negotiations, paperwork, the weight of responsibility, and then days and days of practice — it felt good to breathe without pressure. Good to belong to someone again. Not in the world, but in private. Not just someone either. Julian . My sadist. My vampire.

I dumped salt and electrolytes into a bottle, padded barefoot through the house in sweats and a tee over a sports bra and climbing pants, filled my bottle from the front of the fridge, grabbed a handful of protein bars, and walked outside to look at one of the cameras. “I want to go to the T-Wall.”

I wasn’t ready to talk to people yet, but I needed to move. I’m not supposed to leave without security, and Julian had taken Atlas off the schedule. I didn’t know who’d go with me.

I was happy to see Sage walk to me with his usual, happy-go-lucky smile.

“You want a climbing partner, or security who doesn’t annoy you, today?”

“For you? A partner will be nice. You rarely annoy me.”

The sun was fully up, but the mist was burning off, and the air tasted cool and clean when I stepped up to the T-Wall. A few others were already out, but it wasn’t crowded. Sage gave me a chin tip and went back to tying off his line.

I clipped in, chalked my hands, and climbed, taking it slow at first. I felt every stretch in my shoulders, every reach through my hips. The burn was glorious — sharp and low and earned.

A third of the way up my second route, Sage clipped onto the rope and took over my belay. Quiet as always, like some monk who’d been reborn in jeans and old climbing shoes. He rarely speaks unless I do. He never hovers, and he doesn’t treat me like I’m breakable. I like climbing with him.

On my third lap, I paused to shake out my arms, letting the rope take some of my weight. Sunlight caught the rock face just above me — the kind of golden glow that made everything feel cinematic.

“Hey, Sage,” I asked, my voice quiet. Shapeshifters can hear everything. “You ever hear that quote, ‘Because it’s there’?”

“Mallory,” he called back.

“Yeah, him.” I wiped sweat off my forehead. “I think it’s bullshit. That’s not why I climb. It’s not just because the wall exists.”

Another pause.

Then, “You sure?”

I scowled. “You think I haul myself up here before breakfast because the fucking presence of a wall compels me? No. I do it to challenge myself. Because it’s hard. Because I want to push my body.”

Below, the rope moved slightly — his only physical reply.

Then: “Maybe you climb because you need to feel like you chose the mountain. That you weren’t born on it, but here you are.”

I considered that while I navigated the wall, pulling myself up with my arms, pushing with my toes.

The wind rustled the leaves.

“That’s bullshit. I’m living on the mountain because I fell in love with a… with Julian.”

“Maybe it’s not the mountain. Maybe it’s you.”

I frowned. That didn’t make sense. Or did it? Before I could think on it too hard, I asked, “Okay… then why do you climb?”

He moved a little below me. I knew he seemed focused on the wall, but he was in security mode, focused on our surroundings.

“Maybe you climb because you ’ re not there yet,” he said softly. “It isn’t about presence. It’s about possibility. Humans drawn to challenge — they want the mountain, and to want the mountain is to feel alive.”

Okay, that was either total bullshit, or a truth I didn’t want to delve into.

I started climbing again.

And didn’t say a damn word until I hit the top.