18. Three Times the Burn - Alex
I was fucked.
He wouldn’t even spare me a glance. The determined way he skinned and carved that huge piece, so intent on his sadistic artistry, scared the shit out of me.
God, he was furious. For that reason alone, I didn’t dare move or say a word, no matter how I ached to apologize and beg for mercy. The only thing I had the courage to do was watch him carve his ultimate weapon, aside from water, against me.
Please, not the ginger. Anything but the ginger.
As his fingers worked the knife along the piece, and a plug-like shape began to form, I blinked rapidly, hating the threat of tears. Hating my weakness. If I were stronger, braver, somehow capable of tolerating this particular type of pain, he wouldn’t be able to hold it over me.
He finished carving and dropped the ginger plug into the bowl of water, and I thought this is it, but then he broke off another piece and brought his knife to the outer skin.
Dread ignited in my gut. I shouldn’t have gone to my dad—not without Rafe. It had been a stupid and reckless thing to do. In the end, the visit had done nothing to answer my questions. Instead, it left me feeling like an orphan.
Rafe believed he was justified in punishing me, and maybe he was, but I didn’t think I deserved such a harsh form of discipline. That was the downside of giving my free will to a man who wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of my weaknesses.
And Rafe Mason was my number one weakness.
“You broke my trust,” he said, shattering the silence after a while. He started on a third piece, and the repugnant spiciness of ginger grew stronger in the air.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.”
“I am. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“Hurt me? You pissed me off, Alex. And you scared the fucking shit out of me. Do you have any idea what losing you would do to me?”
I couldn’t help but glare at him. “That’s a stupid question.”
He winced, but it was a fleeting show of empathy. “Then you know how fucking terrified I was when you disappeared on me.”
“I do, and that’s why I am sorry.”
“I sense a caveat in there, babe.”
“I had to confront him.”
“I told you no.”
“Maybe it wasn’t your decision to make.”
“I don’t care. I made it, and you ignored it.” He glanced up from his work long enough to pin me under the boldness of his green stare. “You ignored it knowing there would be consequences. Don’t pretend you didn’t know this was coming.”
I couldn’t argue with that. We fell into silence while he finished carving what I hoped would be the last piece. Rising from the chair, he set the knife on the table. Then he bent and kissed the watery regret from my face. I wanted to beg him not to go, but he moved behind me, taking the bowl of torture with him, and I felt the weight of it on the mattress. The dreaded sloshing sound followed as he selected the first piece.
My ass was only seconds away from scorching, and despite lying here, free of restraints, I couldn’t bring myself to fight him. And it would be a fight. In fact, if it came down to it, he’d probably bring Jax in to help hold me down, if he had to.
“Do you think you deserve the ginger?”
“No.”
“I figured you’d say that. But you don’t get a choice in this, do you?” He paused, apparently expecting an answer.
“No.”
“That’s right. Just like I didn’t get a say when you stole the Jeep and slashed Jax’s tires.”
I closed my eyes in shame. What I’d done was underhanded and unfair to him, and totally fucking dangerous.
He positioned himself between my spread thighs. “If you try closing your legs, I’ll carve a fourth piece, and we’ll be here even longer.”
One wrong involuntary movement on my part, like my thighs inching toward his hips, would land me in more trouble. By the time he was finished, I’d have cramped and stiff muscles from spreading my legs for so long.
I was sure that would pale in comparison to the burn.
Rafe brought our bodies flush together, his erection bulging through his jeans, and the blunt tip of the ginger nudged my puckered hole. I held my breath.
One, two, three, four…
Rafe shoved it in my ass.
“Owww!” I screeched, eyes watering from the rough entry. The plug was cool at first, but after a couple of minutes…
Oh God, fucking God almighty…when that thing heated up…unbearable.
“Take it out! Please, Rafe! Please, please, please…”
“Clench and hold until I tell you to stop.”
“No!”
He smacked my ass, and I contracted around the plug then immediately relaxed my muscles to escape the amped intensity.
Oh God. How would I get through this?
“Babe, last warning.”
Outright sobbing, I clenched and didn’t let go this time. A wave of nausea hit me, and for a few seconds I worried about soiling the bedding.
The nausea subsided, but the liquid fire in my ass didn’t.
Rafe’s zipper sounded, followed by the rustle of denim. He palmed my ass, fingers kneading flesh, rubbing my cheeks together around the base of the ginger plug. His rough manhandling intensified the pain, making it intolerable, and I let out an animalistic howl.
He positioned the head of his cock at my pussy. “Unclench.”
Panting through my mouth, I relaxed into him and focused on the metal bars of the headboard, counting each one, but as soon as he thrust inside me, the headboard became a blur—nothing but a pain-filled abstract existence of shadows and shapes.
And a dizzying contradiction of pain and pleasure.
His cock had never felt so good, but the hotter the ginger amped, the less pleasure I derived from the plunder of his shaft.
He hissed in a breath. “Fuck, baby. So damn good. I might have to fuck your mouth for a while to take the edge off.”
My gaze landed on the abandoned knife. He’d carved three pieces, and he wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t intend to use them all.
His thick cock sank between my folds, then he pulled out to the tip before shoving in again, each deep thrust a slow dance of torture. This wasn’t the tempo he used when he wanted to come.
This was him holding off his orgasm.
Because he had two more pieces to get through first.
I was fucked.