Page 43 of Peripheral Vision (Tethered in Darkness Duet #1)

I let go, sinking deeper into the rhythm of the songs as they change, moving with him.

His hands are firm on my waist but start to trail up my sides, brushing the underside of my breasts, guiding me as we sway together, and I can’t deny the rush of excitement that floods through me.

The way he touches me feels familiar. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against my ear as he murmurs something I can’t quite catch over the music.

His breath is warm against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine as I catch whispers of what could be a cedarwood soap, maybe pine.

The mixture of alcohol and the overwhelming energy around us makes my head spin, and I feel a tug at the corner of my lips.

The next song ends, and I find myself parched, needing another drink, but as I pull away his grip tightens on me, holding me there as the next song begins.

I hesitate, torn between the pull of the dance floor and the need to quench my raging thirst.

The tension lingers for a moment, thick and uncertain, but I decide to give in to one more dance.

I let the stranger lead me back into the beat, my body pressing back into his once more.

And just when I think I’ve finally outsmarted Fletcher, I hear a voice, deep and familiar, cutting through the music.

“You’re really going to pretend like I’m not here, little viper?

” The words are mixed with a teasing and a frustrated edge, and I freeze, my heart skipping in my chest. You have got to be fucking kidding me.

I spin around in his arms and two shards of emerald glass cut through the haze, pinning me in place.

The music fades and all I can hear is the pounding of my own heart, the air thick with the tension between us.

I should say something, anything, but the words are lodged in my throat, caught between anger and surprise.

Fletcher stands there, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, but I know better than to believe it’s anything other than a wolf in sheep's clothing. “What happened to staying inside?”

I tilt my chin up in defiance, throwing my arms out to my sides. “Technically, I am inside.”

His gaze darkens, a glimmer of amusement dancing there before being overtaken by something sharp and demanding. “I don’t care about your technicalities, Dylan.”

I almost falter at the growl that escapes him in barely contained irritation, but I don’t let him see that. “I don’t take kindly to being told what to do.”

He chuckles, the sound menacing. “You’re going to learn. You’re going to learn that when I say something, it means something. When I say you’re mine, I don’t just mean physically. You’re mine to protect, too. You don’t get to run off and potentially get yourself killed.”

I take a step back, my chest tightening. “I’m in a public place, Fletcher, with my friends. Nothing is going to happen to me here.”

His nostrils flare as he takes in more of my appearance.

“You’re right, because we’re leaving. You’re not staying here, especially not in what you’re wearing.

” I look down at the outfit I chose, knowing that although casual, it’s also bold and slightly daring.

A smile quirks at the corner of my lips but I quickly squash it, though not fast enough. “You think this is funny?”

“I’m an adult, Fletcher. I can wear what I want.”

“An adult who doesn’t know how to dress herself,” he growls, stepping forward and grabbing my wrist in a piercing grip. His thumb presses into my pulse, as if he can feel how fast my heart is racing.

I know the more I say, the more I’m going to piss him off, but I can’t help myself. Bodies continue to move around us, and I’ve lost track of Harper and Lacey. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re jealous, Fletcher.”

“I don’t get jealous. But I don’t like how you’re wearing it.

You think you can just walk around flaunting yourself like this to every man who looks in your direction?

” His voice drops lower, and I don’t mistake the danger in his tone.

“You’re mine. Not some… toy to be paraded around.

” The way he says it, so possessively, sends a thrilling shiver up my spine.

“I didn’t ask for permission,” I retort, but my voice is a little breathier than intended.

But he doesn’t respond to me. Instead, he picks me up right there in the middle of the dance floor and tosses me over his shoulder. “Put me down!” I protest, my fists pounding against his back, but it’s like hitting stone.

“Don’t even start, little viper. You think you can just do whatever you want?

Disappear like this, wear whatever you want, and I won’t care?

You still think this is a game?” He shoulders his way through the crowd and nobody stops him.

In fact, some people cheer him on, thinking he’s going to get lucky.

“Fletcher—” I begin, but I can’t finish. I don’t want to finish. I don’t know what I want anymore.

“Shut up,” he growls, slapping me on my ass.

He doesn’t stop or give me any further chances to protest as he walks me all the way to his car with me dangling over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Every step he takes, his arm tightening around my thighs, makes the heat that had started to burn in my core burn brighter.

“Don’t fight me, Dylan. You’re mine and you will listen.

” A thrill runs through me at his words, at the heat in his voice.

I want to argue, to fight. I shift slightly in his arms, feeling his muscles beneath me, and the movement only seems to tighten his hold on me.

My body burns with need, my pulse echoing in my ears.

“Fletcher...” I whisper, my voice strained with something I can't quite explain.

“Don’t say my name like that,” he growls as he sets me down and cages me against the passenger side of his car.

“You don’t get to say my name like that unless I tell you to.

Get in.” I shiver at the possessiveness in his voice, at the way he commands every part of me.

And though a small part of me is terrified, the rest of me can’t deny the thrill running through my veins.

I do as I’m told, buckling myself in as he gets in the driver's side and starts the car. “Next time, you aren’t going to be walking around anywhere like this . If I have to put you in a fucking collar and on a leash that’s attached to my wrist, I will. ”

We ride in silence on the way back to my house and I pull my phone out to text Lacey, so she doesn’t worry about me. “Who the fuck are you texting?”

“I’m just texting Lacey so she doesn’t think anything happened to me,” I snap back, the heat that was coursing through my veins minutes ago flushed out by cold irritation.

His fist clenches around the steering wheel until his knuckles are white, and I know I’m riding a thin line with him, but this is as fucking ridiculous as it is exhilarating.

“Go fuck yourself, Fletcher.” He yanks the wheel to the right as he slams on the brakes, taking a turn onto an empty side street that’s near my neighborhood.

He’s pulled over so suddenly that I almost slam into the dashboard, my seat belt digging into my chest. The car comes to a screeching halt, and for a moment, the only sound is the pounding of my heart.

Fletcher's breathing is heavy, like he’s trying to control the storm brewing in his chest. "You think you can talk to me like that?" His voice is low, dangerous, and it cuts through the silence. His eyes burn with unleashed fury.

I stare back at him, defiant. "I’m not your fucking puppet, Fletcher. I’m not gonna cower just because you decide to throw a tantrum."

“Get out.” His fingers loosen slightly from the steering wheel as he slides the gear into park.

“W–what?” I stutter as he unbuckles his seat belt slowly before opening the driver's side door. I don’t move, fear rooting me to the spot. Have I pushed him too far? He yanks my door open, leaning over me and unbuckling my own belt in silence.

“I said get out.” His arms cross his broad chest in a stand of unrelenting force against me. A part of me can’t believe he’s serious, but my pride doesn’t want me to back down, so I do as he says. “Now get on your fucking knees.”

I scoff. “Whatever fucking game you’re playing, Fletcher, I don’t want any part of. Take your power plays elsewhere.” I attempt to sit back down in the passenger seat, but he grabs me underneath the arm with one hand before balancing his other hand on my shoulder, forcing me to my knees.

He gathers my ponytail in a fist. “I told you this isn’t a game. But you are about to show me that you can listen to directions. Maybe it’ll teach you some manners, too.”

“Oh, you mean how to respect my elders?” I sneer, not registering the words before they’re out.

His grip on my hair tightens as he yanks my head backward, so I am looking up at him.

“Unbuckle my belt, little viper.” His intentions suddenly become very clear, and I try to back away from him but realize I don’t have anywhere to go.

“No way you’re getting out of this now. You dug your grave, now you get to lay in it.

Unbuckle my belt, Dylan. Because you’re going to take my cock down that pretty little throat of yours and I’m not going to stop until your face is painted with the evidence of your tears. ”

I clench my jaw, my teeth grinding as I protest his request silently.

But I don’t see what other choice he’s giving me; he’s shown me who he is, and we both know we’d sit here the rest of the night until he got what he wanted.

My hands are trembling, the tension in the air suffocating as I weigh the cost of refusal.

It’s always the same with him—at first I think I hate him, but the longer I sit with him the harder it becomes to push back.

It doesn’t help that my core is molten at the underlying anticipation of his threat.

It doesn’t help that I’m starting to think he’s right about who I am underneath my skin.

It doesn’t help that he’s probably right about a lot more.

I try to look away, but he doesn’t let me.

He’s patient like the trained predator he is, waiting for his prey to wear itself out.

I finally lift my hands to his belt, undoing the latch before moving on to his button and zipper.

The only sounds that surround us are the distance buzz of traffic and my erratic breathing as I free his cock from his boxers.

“It’s a good start, but we’re not quite there yet, little viper.

Take the belt out all the way and then put your arms behind your back.

” My hands tremble further as I do as he asks.

He secures my wrists behind my back before taking up his position in front of me again, gathering my hair back into his fist. “I was planning on taking you home and fucking you, but fucking is a reward, and you chose to act like a brat instead. Let’s see if I can choke the vile words out of you instead.

” He presses his hips forward until the head of his cock is bumping against my lips.

They part on instinct and he doesn’t waste the opportunity before pushing in.

My tongue circles the tip, and I go to use my hands, forgetting momentarily that they’re bound behind my back.

I change angles and run my tongue up and down from base to tip, tracing his veins until he’s seemingly satisfied.

He yanks on my hair, pulling me back before hinting at me to open my mouth again and this time when I do, he surges forward, shoving his length into my mouth until it hits the back of my throat.

I involuntarily gag and he temporarily backs off allowing me some air.

“Relax your jaw, little viper.” He thrusts forward again, eliciting another gag from me, but I relax my jaw enough and breathe through his next thrust which is a little more comfortable.

He works his cock in and out a few more times before angling himself to force it down my throat.

It doesn’t go the first few attempts, and my eyes are watering as I try to swallow him.

“Attagirl, Dylan. You’re doing so good. It turns out you can listen, and girls who listen get rewarded.

” He pulls out to allow me to breathe for a few seconds before taking his place between my lips again.

Despite relaxing my jaw, it’s sore from having to accommodate his girth.

“We’re going all the way this time, baby.

Breathe when I tell you to.” He pushes to the back of my throat again.

“Breathe.” I do as I’m told, and he slides himself completely down my throat until his pelvis is flush with my face.

Tears are flowing freely down my face, my vision blurry as the mascara runs, just as he wanted.

His thrusts become erratic as he takes what he wants from me, and it doesn’t take too long until I feel his warmth spill down my throat.

He holds my head there with both hands until he’s sure I’ve swallowed every drop.

When he finally withdraws, I gasp for air and cough as he refastens his pants and undoes the belt from my wrists and knees so that he’s eye level with me.

He brushes one of his thumbs under my eyes.

“Look at the pretty mess I’ve made of you.

All these tears shed, the trembling, and that desperate little look in your eyes—it all comes from me.

It’s all because of me. You didn’t want to fall apart, but I made sure you did.

I’m unraveling you in ways you’ve been denying.

And I can see it… how much you hate that you crave it.

How much you need this.” His thumb drags across my skin, rough and deliberate, smearing the mascara further.

“I’ll ruin you as many times as it takes until you finally accept the truth, little viper.

And when there’s nothing left of who you were, you’ll thank me for it, won’t you? ”