Page 32 of Chasing After You (Twisted Desires #3)

I snatched the jar of cumin out of his hand and gave him a playful glare. “If you ever call me that again, I’ll… I’ll dump all these spices in your closet so that all of your clothes and shoes smell seasoned forever!”

He grinned like he’d just won a prize. “Uh-huh, sure you will. You can just admit it—you’re flattered by my offer.”

I rolled my eyes, but yeah, I kind of was. I’d prefer never to be called a princess ever again, but it made me a little giddy each time Dorian took control over something. It was so different from my past relationships where I was supposed to be the big, dominant, Alpha male.

As I leaned against the counter and watched his long, regal fingers work, I couldn’t help smiling a little.

He caught me staring. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re looking at me.”

I snorted. “I do that most of the day.”

He popped the cap off the basil and took a sniff. “Maybe, but you look like you’re thinking about something. What is it?”

I blushed, admitting, “I’m just glad you’re coming. That’s all.”

His face shifted, softened. “Me too.”

* * *

I had a stupid grin on my face the rest of the night.

I couldn’t help it—I was excited. Not just regular excited, but the kind of jittery, nerves-on-fire kind of excited that made me want to pace around and clean something even though Dorian had already deep-cleaned the entire house twice this week.

I didn’t usually get like this. I didn’t usually let myself get like this; I was always scared of being disappointed.

Dorian noticed, of course.

He was curled up on the opposite end of the couch, pretending to read something on his phone but watching me over the screen. “You’re glowing.”

I paused mid-step. “I’m not glowing.”

“You are,” he insisted with a slight tilt to his lips. “You look like you’re about to bounce out of your skin. You like this guy that much?”

I huffed a laugh, flopping back onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. “It’s not just him. It’s—Paul’s been this constant in my life, you know? He could’ve hated me. He had some random teenager dumped in his lap. But he didn’t. He took care of me like I was his own kid.”

Dorian lowered his phone slowly, his face a strange mix of quiet curiosity and something tighter—something that looked almost like jealousy. “You’ve talked about him a lot.”

“Yeah,” I said, then hesitated. “Are you… sure you’re okay with this?”

He blinked. “With what?”

“Meeting him.”

“Of course I am,” he said too quickly, covering his negative feelings with a smile. Then he added, “Should I… expect anything?”

I grinned again. “What, you nervous?”

“I’m cautious. Motorcycle clubs can be…” He trailed off, searching for the word.

“Sketchy?” I offered, amused.

“I was going to say dangerous, but sure. Sketchy works.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I don’t think they’re like that. I mean, I haven’t met them yet, but Paul said they do fundraising rides, swap meets, and other stuff for like holidays and parades. He’s never once mentioned anything shady. I don’t think it’s that kind of club.”

Dorian made a skeptical noise in the back of his throat, but didn’t argue.

“They’re called The Iron Saints,” I added, trying to keep my voice neutral and not too proud, even though I was a little proud. “Paul said they’re like a big family. Sometimes he sends me pictures of the cool places they go, or like group selfies. They seem nice.”

“Iron Saints,” Dorian repeated thoughtfully, then gave me a look. “So it’s you, your grizzled biker uncle, and a bunch of middle-aged men with road names like Viper and Tiny .”

I snorted. “Shut up. But also, yeah, that’s kinda the vibe.”

“I’m just picturing the Fast & Furious version of a chili cook-off,” he deadpanned, dodging a pillow I tossed at him.

He batted it away, laughing now, and it felt good—so stupidly good—to be laughing like this with him again. I’d missed it without realizing it had gone anywhere.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he said.

I sat up, tone softening. “Dori… It’ll be fine. Paul would never put me in that position.”

“If you say so.”

“It’ll be fun! Like a mini road trip!”

* * *

Saturday morning arrived in no time.

“Come on,” Dorian purred, backing me up against the wall outside my bedroom. “I need you. We have plenty of time until we need to leave.”

His hand encircled my throat, squeezing gently. It was just enough pressure to get my blood rushing south. He rocked his hips forward, grinding us together.

“Let me into that tight ass, big brother,” he whispered against my jaw as he peppered kisses against my skin. I shivered and let out a low moan as he continued grinding against my hardening cock.

“Okay,” I whimpered. I yelped in surprise as Dorian’s grip tightened around my neck, and he began walking me backward towards the locked door of the playroom.

With his free hand, he quickly typed in the code to the keypad, unlocking the door. His hand landed on the handle, eyes flickering to mine.

We maintained heated eye contact as he said, “As soon as I open this door, I want you to strip and kneel in front of the St. Andrews Cross. Do you understand?”

I swallowed thickly and choked out, “Y-yes.”

His lips curled into a wicked smile. “Good boy. Let’s get that ass nice and red for our car ride.”

I whined, but followed his instructions as soon as he opened the door. I peeled my clothing off and carefully lowered myself to the floor, the intimidating x-frame looming over me on the wall.

Dorian took his time perusing his collection full of toys and other implements, looking every bit the young master that he was.

My hands trembled where they lay on my naked thighs, from what could only be described as fearful excitement. After about a minute, Dorian walked over, standing directly over my kneeling body.

“Such a good sub, aren’t you?” he crooned, raking his fingers through my hair. He didn’t wait for a response, tightening his grip and pulling me upwards. Little pinpricks of pain jumped around my scalp, demanding that I either get to my feet or risk having my hair pulled out.

I rose shakily to a standing position, my face erupting in a blush as I realized my dick was proudly loving Dorian’s rough handling.

He smirked at my erection. Using a finger, he scooped the small droplet of pre-cum from the already leaking head, staring deep into my watering eyes as he brought it to his lips and licked.

He groaned at the taste, making me release even more. The hand in my hair let go.

He turned me to face the cross and used a hand on my lower back to push me flush against it. One by one, he arranged my limbs, using the cross’ attached cuffs to hold me in place.

Pressing a kiss against my shoulder, he asked, “Would you like to try a gag? If you’re worried about using the nonverbal safe word, then we don’t have to. It’s up to you, okay?”

My belly tightened in arousal.

“I want to try the gag,” I murmured, embarrassed at my confession.

Dorian smiled into the crook of my neck. “Perfect. With your wrists restrained, I think snapping three times would be a good option. Do you think you can do that?”

I nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“I’m going to flog you. It’s going to hurt, but it is not a punishment. With how you reacted to spanking, I have a strong suspicion that you’re partial to pain. I’m going to flog you either until your ass turns the shade I want, or until you use the safe word.”

My breathing sped up as I listened to his plan.

All of a sudden, my mouth was being pried open by his fingers to make room for the ball gag. My tongue explored the intruder, and my teeth scraped against it. Dorian secured it behind my head, then let his hands slide down my back.

“Once we’re done here, I’m going to destroy this tiny fucking hole,” he grunted, his hands roughly pulling my cheeks apart to expose my fluttering hole.

He kept my ass spread for a few more seconds, taking his time to admire his prize. With a chuckle, his hands fell back, leaving me feeling untethered without his touch.

I whined through the gag, wiggling my hips back at him.

“Don’t worry, angel. I know what you need. Just think of the lashes as an extension of my touch,” he said softly.

I could hear him behind me, the soft hiss of the flogger sliding across his palm, the creak of leather in his grip. It wasn’t really fear that made my heart race as much as it was anticipation. A low, simmering tension curled deep in my chest.

He hadn’t touched me yet, but I felt him. His presence was heavy, protective, and calming.

“You’re doing perfectly,” he said quietly. “Just breathe for me.”

I did.

The first strike landed like a whisper, barely more than a brush across my upper ass.

I flinched—not from pain, but from surprise.

Then came another, slightly firmer, like a tap on a drum.

The leather strands fanned out across my skin in a wide arc.

It stung a little, but mostly just warmed my skin.

No thoughts. Just feel.

He was methodical with it. Never rushed.

The rhythm was steady, the intensity and strength of the hits gradually building.

My body responded without my permission, sinking deeper into the restraints, nerves lit with heat and awareness.

It felt as if my mind was being peeled apart layer by layer, leaving me feeling loose and content—soupy, just like how the ropes had made me feel.

I couldn’t move much, couldn’t speak, but Dorian watched me the whole time. I knew he did. I could feel his gaze inspecting my every movement—every shiver, breath, tremble, or flinch.

When he paused, I could hear his labored breathing. He stepped close, warm palms brushing over my back, over the reddened skin. I moaned at the feel of his soft, cool hands soothing the blazing sting.

“So good for me,” he whispered. “Still okay?”

I nodded, letting out an affirmative moan. God, it was like my whole body had melted. The slight tension I’d had was gone, washed away by the heat.

He rested his forehead against the nape of my neck for a moment, just breathing me in.