Page 11

11

NATHANIEL

UNKNOWN

Her mouth would look better around my cock.

H e is taunting me. Letting me know he’s watching. Or just guessing and trying to make me paranoid. Regardless, he is dangerous.

But as they say, defense wins championships, and I plan on fucking owning him by the end of this. Deadman Dalton. I chuckle at the nickname I’ve gifted him.

I’ve been able to catch a couple hours of sleep, but those marks on her back haunted my dreams. They are all I see each time I blink.

She hurts herself. On purpose. But why? Those wounds were fresh, so I know she wasn’t lying. But I need to understand.

Looking at the time, Greta should be over in the next hour or so. I move to get out of bed when my bedroom door swings open. Looking over, it’s Rylee.

And she’s pissed.

Her lips are pursed and her eyes narrow.

I’m excited.

“You have people gathering my belongings?”

My dick hardens from her tone. Seething with venom, just how I like her.

“Yes, please come in.” I jokingly wave her in as I adjust my hard cock before rising.

“Sit down,” she demands, and I obey without hesitation. My heart begins to race in anticipation. What’s next?

“You are a man who is used to calling the shots. Getting his way and having no one to answer to but yourself. Those days are over. Do you understand me?” Rylee steps toward me, hands placed firmly on her hips, and each word spoken is clear, unrushed, and concise.

My eyes move down. I go from looking at this strong woman to my bare, tattooed feet on the ground. My words come out, hushed. “It feels good. Not being in control. It is a break for my brain. To just live and be. To listen to someone else. You have no idea how desperately I needed this...”

It’s the truth.

Even if it is only for thirty seconds, it’s those seconds my brain isn’t always playing chess, trying to predict what’s to come or has been and how to handle it.

Bending girls over my desk got me off, but it never fully satisfied me.

“Do you remember your safe word?”

Shifting eyes look at her. My body turns slowly to face her, and I nod. But Rylee isn’t satisfied with my response. “Say it,” she demands.

Clearing my throat, I say, “Devil.”

The corner of her mouth rises. Satisfied, she steps closer, and her bare legs taunt me.

“Mr. Sinclair, I do hope your men get all my things. We could have a lovely time with them.” Her face glows with excitement.

Fuck. So do I.

“On your back.” Her voice firms, becoming more serious. Lifting my legs back onto my bed, her voice penetrates my ears once more. “I can’t hear you.”

Looking up at her, she glares.

“Yes, Ms. Vandenberg.”

This warrants a “Good boy.”

My cock twitches underneath my underwear at hearing it.

“You’re lucky I found a treat from my dungeon in my overnight bag.”

Rylee’s fingers slowly glide up her thighs and disappear under the hem of her long shirt. She has something tucked away; I can briefly see something pushing against her shirt as it moves down her body.

A glint of light from outside hits it, bouncing off the silver object as it becomes uncovered.

“Take your cock out,” she demands.

Taking a deep breath, my chest rises and my heart continues to race. Moving my hands to my abdomen, my fingers hook under my waistband, and I shimmy my underwear down. Arching my back, they slide under my backside and down my pelvis. My cock springs out, precum already leaking from my tip. As I continue to remove my boxer briefs, my balls are exposed next.

“Stop,” she demands.

And I listen.

Removing my hands from the waistband, my palms sweat in anticipation. Her eyes remain unmoved, staring at my face, completely unfazed by my exposed cock. It is taking everything in me to not touch myself, to tug on him while rubbing my tip, desperate for release.

Fuck it.

My fingers wrap around my girth, squeezing my cock hard as I pull on him and take her in.

Then, in the blink of an eye, Rylee is on the bed. Her knees between my legs with a deadly scowl on her face. “I never said you could touch.”

Letting go, I admit defeat. No point in arguing with her. She is in control. She speaks; I obey.

At the same time, that silver object is being placed around my cock, between two of my barbell piercings.

“What do you say?” Her brow arches in amusement.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Vandenberg.” I’m always man enough to apologize and mean it.

The object tightens around me, and as it does, she informs me, “Bad boys don’t get rewarded.”

With each turn, I feel a sharpness poking my sensitive skin, like teeth but sharper during a blowjob.

I let a hiss out as my pelvis flexes, and my muscles tighten, causing my dick to move. The spikes nip it, stinging me as a quick sharp pain moves around me.

Once satisfied, her hands lift and grip my balls.

“Please, not my balls, Ms. Vandenberg,” I plead. I don’t think I can handle them being spiked like my cock. I’d cry on my knees, begging if it kept my balls safe.

“This is for touching yourself without permission. You will keep it on for the remainder of the day. Do you understand?”

My response is immediate—anything to protect my balls. “Yes, Ms. Vandenberg.”

Leaning forward, her top hangs and skims my bare chest. Her lips are just inches from mine. I need to taste them, to taste her. Both sets.

Her scent is sweet, addictive, and torture.

Licking her lips, her tongue teases me, moving slowly. She then whispers, “Now, get up. Greta should be here shortly.”

“Yes, Ms. Vandenberg.”

Rylee's hand reaches up, gripping my chin as her thumb rubs along my manicured facial hair. My cock throbs, and the spikes pinch me yet again. Not wanting to seem like a pussy, I keep the pain hidden. But it’s oddly satisfying.

The trust you have to have with one another in this situation has to be strong, and for two people who have barely spoken to each other, this is remarkable and intimate.

She has mentioned she could kill me at any moment. And she could. But I would fucking let her if it made her happy.

She is one of three people who can see right through me. But this is deeper than with the others. I wonder if she feels it.

Getting up, her scent leaves me first, then her touch. My hooded eyes watch as she leaves, closing the door behind her.

And this is the exact moment I realize, and she knows it too. It would be impossible not to because I have no game face when it comes to her. No strategy. No racing thoughts or game play.

What is this woman doing to me?