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Torrid by Nikki Sloane (62)

20

AS MY BODY GREW ACCUSTOMED to the plug, it became easier to move around, but every step down the staircase made my anxiety grow, just as Luka had intended. Would his personal chef know about the dirty secret in my body the second she laid eyes on me? I used to have a great poker face, but that was cards.

She stood at the kitchen island, a pair of tongs in her hand as she supervised dinner. A pot steamed on the sophisticated gas range, but her focus was on the grill top, where lamb chops were cooking.

“Hello,” I said over the grill’s ventilation fan. My cheeks were burning.

She glanced up and did a double-take. Whitney’s bright gaze scanned me and a smile stretched on her face. “Why, hello, Addison.”

Luka’s personal chef appeared to be in her late thirties. She had rich brown hair, cropped short and it swept across her forehead. I was instantly struck by how maintained she was. The exceptional organization of her meals should have shown me how organization extended into all aspects of her life. Even her apron was a perfect white.

“I was wondering when I was going to meet you,” she said, her eyes glittering. “Luka wouldn’t let me ask, so I’ve been making extra meals in case you have any dietary restrictions.”

“Oh,” I said. “No, I’m not allergic to anything.”

“Yay!” she joked. “Shellfish is back on the menu.” She picked up one of the chops and turned it. “I’m Whitney, by the way.” The tongs were set down and she extended her hand for a shake.

I’d swear I could feel the toy more the longer I remained in her presence. “Nice to meet you.” I didn’t want to seem rude and tried not to speak in a rush. “Luka asked for a glass of wine before dinner. What do you recommend?”

She thought for a moment. “There’s a California cabernet that’ll go nicely with this lamb.”

I stood in silence as she went to the wine fridge, checked labels, and pulled out the bottle she was looking for. Whitney moved with precision while she opened the wine, and thirty seconds later she handed me the poured glass.

“Thank you,” I squeaked out.

She noticed my hand trembling, but said nothing. Instead, she gave me a friendly, curious smile, and nodded.

I trudged up the stairs and down the hallway back to him, careful not to spill the red wine. I lingered with my hand on the door knob, drawing in a deep breath to calm my nerves before pushing it open.

Didn’t matter, I wasn’t prepared.

Luka must have moved the new piece of furniture in while I was downstairs. I wasn’t sure what it was exactly, and I stared at it with dread. The piece was black and similar to a construction sawhorse, only there was padding covered with vinyl at the top. Buckle cuffs decorated all four legs.

I almost spilled the glass, but Luka snatched it out of my hand just in time.

“Breathe,” he ordered, setting the wine down on the dresser and locking me in his arms, keeping me from bolting. “This is like the clock. It’s another tool to help us get to where we need to be.”

I couldn’t rip my gaze away from the damn thing. He was going to restrain me to it and do unspeakable things. That fear was paralyzing.

“Look at me.” It took an enormous amount of strength to comply. His expression was serious. “This experience can be as pleasurable as you want. I’d prefer that.” His eyes flooded with lust. “You sound so amazing when you come. I’ve watched the video you took, like, fifty fucking times.” He turned me in his arms, pressing me back against his chest so we were both looking at the thing and his lips were beside my ear. “It’s just a bench. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

Was he serious? “What about you?”

I couldn’t see his knowing, evil smile, but I sensed it. He brushed my hair off of my neck and out of his way, planting a slow, lingering kiss there. “When we’re doing this, you’re not scared of me, you’re scared of how you feel when you’re with me.”

“Nope,” I said. “Pretty sure I’m just terrified of you.” It was a lie and I was certain we both knew it.

He picked up the glass of wine, turned his head to the side, and drank. “Then, get over it during dinner.”

“Dinner?” New dread poured into my belly. I’d thought we were going to continue whatever he’d started and use the new tool he’d moved into the room. “What about the . . . the . . .”

“The plug in your ass?” He said it so casually I hated him a little again. “It stays. I want you thinking about how my cock’s going to feel there later.”

He had to hold me up as I sagged in his arms. I couldn’t catch my breath. And he was absolutely right. I was plenty nervous about him doing that, but it wasn’t half as scary as the idea I might end up liking it.

π

It was the most uncomfortable dinner yet. Not just because of the toy, but because I couldn’t focus on anything. Trying to hold a conversation with me was frustrating for Luka, and he often had to repeat himself. But he was the one to blame for my flustered state, which he was clearly enjoying.

He ate his dinner slowly, savoring me more than the meat. I picked at the food, just wanting this part over. The sooner we got through dinner, the sooner we’d get back to the bench and on with it. I told myself there wasn’t a single molecule of curiosity in me about what was going to happen. I wouldn’t fucking allow it.

I did, however, drink the wine he poured for me. Both glasses. When he poured himself the last of the bottle, I held my empty glass out to him.

“You’re already smiling,” he said, “so I think you’re done.”

Crap, I’d already gotten to stage one. “You didn’t care I was wasted our first time.”

His expression hardened. “That’s because I was wasted, too. I already told you, I want you to enjoy this. Not get sick and feel like death tomorrow. You ever had a wine hangover before?”

“No,” I fired back, getting mouthy from the alcohol. “Just tequila and rohypnol, Luka.”

He exhaled loudly and the muscle along his jaw ticked. “Upstairs, now.”

Luka carried the glass of wine with him, and pushed open the door to the green bedroom, gesturing like a gentleman for me to go inside. My buzzing brain prayed the bench had magically disappeared, but no. It sat, waiting for me. Or maybe . . .

“Is there a chance you’re going to be strapped down to that and not me?” I said, my voice slurring.

Amusement passed through his expression, gone as quickly as it arrived. “No. Take off your clothes.”

I’d wanted to get dinner over with, and now I wished I’d stalled. I moved achingly slow as he sat in the loveseat and watched me with a lustful gaze. I discarded my clothes one at a time on the bed until I had nothing left except what he’d put inside me.

The room was freezing, and got colder when he pointed to the bench.

I swallowed a gulp and forced my feet to move. But as I stood beside the bench, I wasn’t entirely sure what to do.

Luka was up in a flash. “You lay on it face down, length-wise. Your head goes here.” He pointed to one end, and then helped me lower myself awkwardly on it. The cold vinyl squished and ran between my breasts, down along my stomach, and between my legs.

His warm hands took hold of my wrist and gently placed it in the first cuff. By the time he was securing my final ankle, I was shaking like a leaf. I rasped for air and gripped the legs of the bench, driving my nails into the wood. Fingers ran the length of my spine and I shivered. His touch was electricity, shocking my nerve endings awake.

The first spanking he gave was nothing in comparison to his others before, and the next was the same. Almost gentle, like he was warming me up.

“I’m going to turn your ass the perfect shade of red.”

He built up the intensity slowly, following a pattern where he’d spank each side, then circle his fingers on my clit. My head was buzzing, and I moaned softly as he manipulated me. As his slaps got harder, I could feel them inside and out because of the plug.

The rhythm filled the room. Slap, slap, moan. Slap, slap, moan. My body responded to him, becoming eager for his touch, whether it was delivering pain or pleasure. The lines blurred together. My backside was on fire, but it was a tingling, interesting feeling. Once again, I wondered how much I could take. And this time, I also wondered how much he’d give me. Was he . . . pleased at how I handled his spankings?

He paused at one point to finish his wine, and then stepped back up to my burning skin. I flinched at his soft caress. He whispered under his breath, “So fucking gorgeous.”

It flooded me with heat. Then, two fingers speared into me and I cried out. It was startling, but not painful. The sensation with the plug already inside me was different and exciting. I glanced up at him and he watched me right back, his faint smile twitching on his lips.

Wait a minute, was I supposed to feel good about pleasing him? Goddamn him. Maybe I’d pretend I didn’t like it just out of spite. But what good would it do? It wasn’t punishment for him and the only control he’d given me was over how much enjoyment I’d take from tonight. I moaned louder as his fingers drove deep, touching the spot that felt incredible.

I was reeling as he abruptly withdrew, and this smack, the one which came without warning, was like the one from the horrible dinner with his father. I gnashed my teeth together and sucked in air through my nose.

“That was for the way you talked to me downstairs.” He grabbed a fistful of my hair and pushed his face right up to mind. “And this,” he said, his eyes smoldering, “is for how you make me stupid.” His lips crashed into mine, and the kiss was intense. Brutal. “You make it so I can’t keep my hands off of you, or think about anything else.”

His tongue swept in my mouth, and I welcomed it. His kiss made me fall apart and feel stronger in the same instance. Every tiny adjustment of the angle, or movement of our lips together deepened the madness. I sighed against his mouth, wanting to breathe his confidence in. He tasted like sex and desire. What could I learn from him?

Luka was breathing as hard as I was when it ended. His pupils were large and skin flushed. I wanted him to kiss me like that again, or touch me, or . . . shit, for him to connect his body with mine. Or do all of those things at once and send me into oblivion. My muscles strained from the grip on the bench legs.

He rose up but stayed near my head and in my sight, letting me watch him undress. He had a habit of tugging his tie loose as soon as he came home, but leaving it that way. Now he undid the knot and slid the end free from his collar, tossing it onto the bed. Then, he worked the line of buttons on his dress shirt, and pulled the shirttails free from his waist. It was added to the pile. He moved faster after that.

When he stood before me completely naked, my lungs squeezed in my chest. Luka was a rush to look at normally, but naked? It was almost too much.

“Tell me you want this.” He stroked his hand over his hard dick, twisting his grip.

I ached for him, but when my lips parted, I was unsure if I could say the words.

His tone was dark and imposing. “Addison.”

“My family and friends call me Addie,” I said. Shit. Had I skipped over phase two, and gone straight to phase three, where logical thought was abandoned? Did I want him to use my abbreviated name like he was my friend? Like we were close?

He froze, and then his thick eyebrow arched. “Good for them, Addison. I don’t like nicknames.”

I flashed back to the moment at the frat party before we’d gone upstairs. Vasilije’s frat brother had called him Vas, but Luka had used his full name.

“In fact,” he added, “only the whore gets a nickname.”

I blinked my drunk eyes. “Why do you call her that?” If Tori had only been nineteen when she’d wound up in bed with Luka’s father, she probably had been seduced. Or worse. Maybe she had been placed in the same situation Luka had put me in.

“Because she’s a whore. She’ll tell you she fucked half the guys at the dealership before my father started fucking her for money.”

“Oh.”

He scowled and spanked my bare cheek with a loud smack. “We’ve gotten off track here.” His fingers traced my entrance, spreading around my arousal. “Focus. This is what you should be thinking about.”

I bit down on my bottom lip as he moved behind me. The tip of his cock teased between my folds, and I issued a soft sigh. Last week I’d been petrified when he’d done this, and now I wanted it. He’d turned me into a slut in a week flat.

“Tell me what you learned today,” he ordered.

I wanted my voice to sound confident, but it wavered. “Three point one four one five—Oh!”

Luka drove deep inside me, all the way to the root. My back bowed and I tried to get away, but the cuffs answered back, holding me down. It was still so much, and too quickly, plus the plug made me feel tight.

But, holy hell, it felt good, too. The warm skin covering his hips pressed against the heated flesh of my stinging backside, and he ground himself into me. I groaned with both discomfort and dark satisfaction.

“That’s right,” he said. “You’re not scared, you like it. You like how you feel with all that inside you, don’t you? My cock deep in your pussy,” his fingers grabbed the heart of the plug and turned it, “and this in your ass.”

When he began to move, I couldn’t control my moans. They fell from my lips, one after another, making me sound desperate and needy. He was right. So terribly right. I was bound to the spanking bench so I couldn’t hide from my shame, but I couldn’t escape my pleasure, either.

He was panting in no time, and his thrusts quickened to a steady, controlled pace. The bench creaked with his movements, but most of the time it couldn’t be heard over me. My lower body was in ecstasy with the different sensations, and I gave myself over to them as willingly as I gave myself over to him now.

“Oh my God,” I moaned.

Bliss rolled from my fingertips, down to the ends of my toes as he thrust himself inside, repeatedly hitting the spot I craved. My body moved by its own choice and wiggled on the bench, restless and anxious for release.

But when he slowed and his fingers closed around the base of the plug, my heart ground to a painful stop. I grimaced as the toy was retracted and thudded to the carpet. Luka wasn’t moving inside me, but he was pulsing.

I pinched my eyes tightly shut as he withdrew. Footsteps carried him away and there was rustling. I didn’t want to know what he was doing. Anxiety gripped me so tightly, it squeezed out a panicked noise.

“Pi,” he demanded. “Go.”