Page 25 of Ly to Me (Devils of Alliston Springs #1)
Lyra
The Tether
T here was a saying in the South that mamas yelled to their kids at the grocery stores when they demanded a piece of candy and then melted down because they were told no . No one ever told me to stop pitchin’ a fit before because I’d never felt angry enough to pitch one. My fits were more…silent.
But, after wiping away my tears and cleaning myself up, I had no other option than to wear his clothing. His boots. Eat the breakfast he left out for me under his damn roof before he left.
So, I did the only logical thing and ripped his keys from the hook, gripping them so hard my knuckles turned white as I threw the front door open and stormed up to his pretty black truck, then got to work.
Pitchin’ my fit.
Metallic screeching sounds filled the air, lifting a heaviness from my chest in a way that made more tears stream down.
I couldn’t even tell if I was happy about keying up his truck, or if it made me more pissed off.
His rooster sure as fuck didn’t like it, because the darn bird was clucking in circles behind me like some trained, yet stupid, guard dog.
“Go on, git,” I rushed out over my shoulder, fisting the key harder. The rooster froze in place and craned its neck. My eyes rolled. “If brains were leather, you wouldn’t have enough to saddle a junebug.”
The rooster cocked its head to the other side. “Can’t you see I’m busy fuckin’ up your daddy’s truck?”
A low gurgling sound came from the deranged bird. I sighed. “Just—quit lookin’ at me already.”
I shook my head and finished carving into the previously pristine paint, then stood back with my chest heaving. It wasn’t enough. I turned the fob over in my hand and slid the key back inside, then set my sights on his perfect house.
Now this was gonna be fun.
Chairs. That was the first thing that burned into my irises were those damn chairs he touched me on. Then, the bedsheets, and the pillow I’d dressed up in my lingerie. A few of the glasses from his kitchen cupboard were thrown in, too. Cause, what the hell, why not?
A large shadow loomed in my periphery, followed by a horse snorting and a slight chuckle—one as gruff as its owner.
I didn’t bother facing him as he asked, “You havin’ a good time?”
“Ya know what?” I grunted as I lifted and tossed another chair into the burning pile, then put my hands on my hips and turned to Carver, his smug face more amused than pissed.
I should’ve chucked the chair right at him.
If only he wasn’t on his damn horse. There were lines I drew, and hurting animals was one of them.
“Yeah. I’m havin’ a really fucking great time. ”
The corner of his lips rose. “Well alright, then. Don’t stop on my account.” I glared back at him, and his perfectly wind-swept hair, and black fitted shirt that showed way too much definition of his physique.
When had a simple t-shirt ever been like lingerie, but on a guy?
You know what? No. I wouldn’t let myself think he was attractive. He leaned forward and gripped the pommel, popping the veins snaking over his big, firm hands in a way that sent shivers down my spine and reached surprisingly lower.
Those hands on my neck —
He smirked again . “Did you at least take my truck to the store and get us some graham crackers and marshmallows before you wrecked the shit out of it?”
“You like it?” I flashed an innocent smile and batted my lashes. “Thought it needed something a little…extra.”
“Hmm.” His eyes lingered from the words I scratched into his truck to my lips, then down to my chest. Heat gathered as those piercing blue eyes settled between my legs.
He looked ready to tear into me, and not in the way I was aiming for.
“‘Lyra’s Bitch’ has a ring to it.” His eyes flashed up to meet mine.
“Almost like that little heart you left for me in the bathroom.” He winked.
I let out a huff of frustration as I tossed another few glasses into the pit. “Where’d you go?” I asked, forcing as much irritation into the words as I could to cover—
Nope.
Fuck all of whatever was going on in my stupid body.
His finger crooked over his bottom lip, his white teeth shining in the sunlight as he continued to enrage me with his sultry smirk. “Were you worried about me, little Ly?”
“Yeah.” I tossed the last glass into the air a few inches above my hand, then caught it. “Worried you’d break our contract and I wouldn’t get my money.”
Carver's hand fell, revealing down-turned, disapproving features. “Why would I go and do a thing like that?”
“I dunno.” I shrugged and tossed the glass into the air again. “Probably because I’m not the docile little thing you thought you were marrying.”
“I know who I married.”
I laughed and threw the glass into the pit, sending shards into the flames. “Do you, though?”
When I looked back at him, his face had shifted more, resembling something closer to demonic—all hard lines and dipped brows shadowing crystalline eyes. “I’m the only one on this godforsaken planet who knows exactly who you are, Lyra.”
“No, you don’t!” I shrieked, then looked away and lowered my voice. “You only want to use me like everyone else.” The words had come from somewhere so deep, it startled me as it came out. Water lined my lids as I stuffed that back down, where it should have stayed.
When I turned back, he was dismounting Bee with all the grace of an apex predator. Holding something he’d taken off her behind his back, Carver quickly advanced, and when he reached me, so did his hand—right around my throat.
“This temper tantrum of yours has been fun, Ly, but”—he yanked me closer, giving only an inch to breathe—“I think it’s time we quit playin’ games.”
The scent of leather and oak smothered me as he raised something long and brown to the top of my head.
“What—”
The fingers around my neck flexed. “As I said—” Leather slipped down over my eyes, my nose, then my lips, sliding further until it settled above his hand. “I’m done playing games.” His fingers fell from my neck, letting the thing he’d secured there completely take his place.
“Did you—” Fury raged deep in my bones, warming my body more than the blazing fire beside us could ever hope to. “Did you just put a leash on me?!”
“You see, Ly, that’s subjective .” He took a few steps back and jerked on it, sending me to my knees as I tried to steady my breaths. “In your eyes, it’s a leash. In mine, it’s a tether—a way to keep my wife real close.”
“You’re an asshole,” I choked out, trying to fit my fingers beneath the leather. But it wouldn’t budge.
“ Objectively, ” he continued, “it’s Bee’s reins. And the more you tug, the tighter it will get.”
“Remove it!”
He smirked. “Not happening.”
“What the fuck, Car! Let me go!” I pushed myself up from the gravel and lunged for him. He quickly darted to the side and tugged on the reins right as I passed him, pulling my back to the ground with one swift movement. I gasped to regain the breath that was knocked from my lungs.
Carver was over me in seconds, straddling my hips. His hand splayed as he anchored his body above mine while the other clutched the leather reins. Then he leaned down, grinding his hard length against my lower stomach.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Yet my pussy seemed to have a mind of its own, pulsing with need.
It’s the lack of oxygen, Lyra. Get your shit together .
“Feel that?” The firelight illuminated the sharp lines of his face as he rolled his hips again.
“Get. O—” An unsolicited moan left my lips, cutting off my demand.
“That’s not your safeword.” He shifted lower and repeated the action, this time pressing right up against my center. I squirmed as much as I could beneath him. “You used to take me so fucking well. I bet you still would.”
“Car—”
Anger flared briefly in his lust-filled eyes with the use of his nickname. “I think it’s time you find out what some of those fucked up tastes I’ve developed are, wife .”
“Please.” His elbow notched back more, the force whipping my head up.
He captured my mouth with his, then bit down on my lip.
Hard. A metallic taste filled my tongue as he let me fall back down, grinding his stiff length methodically, nudging right against my clit.
The moan that escaped me this time was less concealable.
He chuckled darkly. “You’re going to need to save your breath.” The leash, reins— fucking tether —slackened in his hold as he rolled off me. “Stay still. If you try to escape or run, I will fuck you, and I will make it hurt. Got it?”
With his body warmth over my thighs gone, I could feel just how wet I was. I thought I knew what being turned on to this degree had been like. I’d been so wrong. So, I kept my mouth shut and nodded.
He started wrapping the reins around his knuckles, then jerked me to a sitting position. “You know what to say to make me stop.” His gaze darted between my neck and the porch railing, and I whimpered. Then he gathered me into his arms and carried me up the steps.