SIX
“Who said it would be by my hands?”
Those words rush through me leaving me a jittery mass of nerves. Unstable. Worried.
“What the hell does that even mean . . .” Noah trails off and his eyes snap toward me. I can feel his worry—how realization slowly trickles in. “Me.”
It’s not a question and our captor doesn’t confirm the suspicion.
She doesn’t need to.
She wants him to hurt me.
“Why?” My voice cracks at the end and his hand, warm and slightly calloused, tightens his hold on mine. Silent support. A small reminder of our conversation last night.
He’s here.
Beside me.
Asking that I trust in him.
“Because I’m asking him to. Are you questioning my orders?”
What is she talking about?
Either way, I don’t want to infuriate her any further. If I have to take one for the team, so be it.
Play nice and then escape. You can do this Ivy.
“I’m sorry.” Looking down, I settle my blurry gaze at his bare feet. Breathe in and out. Try like hell to regulate my breathing and get ahold of the fear that has my teeth rattling.
“As you should be.” A pained whimper plays over that forsaken lullaby she’s been playing off and on. It’s muffled, but loud.
Is it a recording? Is this another way of tormenting us?
A huge part of me doesn’t want to know.
Knees trembling, I extricate my hand from Noah’s grip and use the chair for support.
“Hurt me. Not her,” he growls out, chest puffed out in anger. His eyes are crazed, he’s looking around and calculating his options. Does he deny and fight or give in and possibly hurt me? “I’ll take whatever punishment you deem fit.”
“Is that so. Anything?”
“Yes.”
“Noah, please, shut it,” I cry out. Her glee at his protectiveness unnerves me. “You’re playing into whatever—”
“Spank her.”
“What?” we say in unison. My face feels flushed. The room a thousand and one degrees hot.
She can’t be serious.
“Over your knee and twenty swats. Counted. By her.”
“No.”
“Would you prefer that I have my associate take her? He’d love to get his hands on her.”
Turning to face Noah, I cup his face in my hands. “I’ll do it.”
“But—”
“Stop.” Pulling his face down to mine, I kiss his cheek. “I trust you not to hurt me. Take advantage of me.”
He nods, face grim. “Okay.”
“Now that it’s settled. Noah sit down.” Another kiss to my cheek, this time right at the edge of my lips, and he walks the few steps to the chair. He sits, legs slightly parted and pats his knees. Eager to just get this over with.
Three steps and I’m in front of him. I tremble, my nerves are beginning to get the best of me. Noah sees this and extends a hand out for me to take; I do, and he pulls me between his legs.
Heat envelopes my cold limbs.
“I’ll gift you a minute to get settled on his lap.” Leaning down, I kiss his cheek and nod. Make a move to take my place when laughter rings out. “Such good pets. All will be forgiven after, but first, Ivy?”
“Yeah?”
“Lose the bra.”
Fuck.
Noah’s blue eyes widen.
Mine close and I pray. God, I pray, and hope for someone above to give me strength. To help me get through this.
With shaky hands, I unclasp the strap in the back and let the sexy lingerie drop to my elbows where the material catches. I’m exposed.
Noah can see me—I feel his heated stare over my skin. He’s admiring, devouring the heaviness of each breast and the way each nipple tightens at his perusal.
“Fucking hell . . .” Brow furrowed, as if the sight of my tits is causing him pain, he shifts in the chair. “I want those in my mouth.”
I can’t help but moan at his involuntary confession.
My hair stands on end again and I fight so goddamn hard not to cover myself. Not wanting this psychotic bitch to force me out of my bottoms as well.
Out of the corner of my eyes I see his cock twitch at my nearness and dear Lord this is not the time to lose focus. There’s a subtle throb and then he shifts in his seat again.
“Bend over his lap.” Her tone is husky. Raw. Almost desperate for her sick and perverse game to begin.
Placing my hand on his thigh, I lower myself down. Slow. I’m in no rush to start my humiliation.
His naked thigh makes contact with my stomach and he tenses. Mutters a low fuck and places a hand on my back.
Right above the elastic edge of my thong.
“Stroke her back.”
Noah’s hands flex over me, his fingernails dig in a bit as he pushes me fully down. Over him. His hard cock trapped between us.
“This isn’t right,” I exclaim, a single tear rolling down my cheek. Shifting over him, I reach for his leg closest to my arm and take hold.
My breasts are exposed to the chilly air, tips stiff and sensitive. The slightest move, and his thigh brushes against them. The fine hair there tickles—feels like a soft caress.
“Stroke her where you’re dying to touch her. Warm her skin.”
What does that even mean?
And then I feel it. His strong hands grab handfuls of my ass and manipulate the flesh. A cheek in each hand. Stroking. Squeezing. Pushing me down and further into his lap.
“Mother of . . .” I can’t finish. The air around me crackles with lust. Anticipation.
“Quit fucking moving,” Noah all but snarls above me in a tone I’ve never heard before. It’s gritty and low. It’s sex and hunger rolled into one delicious command.
I freeze. For a second the only sounds coming from inside this room are his harsh breathing and mine.
Again I feel the temperature drop in the room. His hands leave my flesh and the coolness seeps into my bones.
Shivers run up my spine and then heat blooms. Its unexpected. A rush. And then pain.
The first spank.
“Count each one, Ivy. Each. Fucking. One.”
“One.” It leaves me on a pained whisper.
“Stay with me, love. Please don’t hate me.” Once again his hand leaves me for a second or two before coming down with force.
“Two,” I grit out and then he hits me again. Three in quick succession that leave me breathless and a bit in shock. The numbers leave my lips just loud enough for him to hear.
Thank God our captor doesn’t call me out on the fact. On the correct assumption that I like his hands on me.
Because fuck me, I do.
Not because of the pain, but the other feelings they invoke.
There’s a small candle of desire burning in my gut.
“You’re doing so good, Ivy. So proud of you.” It’s with those words that the tears come. Not sobs, but a quiet cry.
Even if we survive this, we will never be the same.
Another swat, right at the crease where thigh and ass meet and I gyrate in his lap. “Six.” There’s no controlling the low moan it leaves me on. Wetness coats my labia and upper thighs.
He’ll see this and I’m mortified.
Will Noah think I’m depraved and sick?
“Son of a bitch,” he hisses and the piercing at the tip of his dick grazes my skin. Even with the barrier of his boxers I feel him.
Lust consumes me.
His hold on me tightens to almost the point of pain. Noah wants me just like this, over his lap, and without space to move.
He controls me.
“From now on not a single word out of you, Ivy. Not a peep.” That song plays again with the occasional moan thrown in. Sounds as if a porn flick is playing in the background. Exaggerated sounds—fake pleasure for the masses to enjoy.
I bite my lip hard enough to bleed.
Sweat beads at my brow as the breath whooshes out of me. I’m bent over, arms dangling down. Beneath me, the most delicious, hardest length I’ve ever felt presses into my mound. I want to rock against it.
I can’t move.
He won’t let me.
He keeps me like this, draped over his lap, immobile. The sound of a strike reverberates throughout the room, but silence remains.
Moisture drips from my every pore, and yet, I’m focused on this one drop as it gathers at the center of my forehead. Becomes bigger.
Everything’s out of control.
Crazed.
Hyperawareness consumes my every breath.
I count to ten and it falls to the ground.
A small splat no one will ever hear. And yet, I do. The sound as it hits the floor causes my breathing to stutter and skin to prickle with goosebumps.
Whatever they drugged us with is still pumping through my veins, magnifying all my senses.
“The last ten, love,” Noah whispers, his hand massaging the heated flesh beneath his fingertips. It hurts, but the pain is replaced by a yearning so strong that I whimper in his lap.
Like a bitch in heat I arch and ask for more.
His touch.
His desire.
To make this burning within my veins stop.
With one hand he gathers the hair at my nape and forces my head back. A harsh tug—I’m in his control—forces my eyes to meet his. Hooded blue eyes look at me with concern, but behind their depths I see another emotion burning.
Lust.
His want mirrors my own. This perversion is awakening something darker from within. It grows—chokes us, because behind it all we were meant to end up like this. My body in his hands. In his control.
Those hungry eyes look at me. Silent communication. Are you okay?
I blink back a please and the asshole smirks. Aware of what I need even as my mind fights the sins I’ve laid bare to his eyes.
My release is so close. A fresh round of arousal drips from my core and onto his boxers.
I’m positioned over his lap, ass up, and the very tip of his cock is against my hip. He’s hard. Jerks against me when I gyrate against his length.
“Please,” I beg aloud this time and his hold on my hair tightens. The hand kneading my ass cheek spreads me open to look at my depravity. At what his own hands have caused.
That thong, that miniscule piece of fabric, can’t hide what this game is doing to me. The evidence, slick and inviting, is on his lap.
I shift against his cock and he hisses, “Be still!”
A crackle follows his command and we both shiver. Each time it appears, things change, become more.
Dangerous.
Frantic.
Wicked.
“Very good my pets, but the audience wants more. Lose the panties, but without her standing up. Be creative, and there will be a reward.”
I exhale shakily. “Do it.”
“Are you sure?” As the word leave his lips, those same fingers that a minute ago exposed me to his eyes, now hold my panties in his grip. He doesn’t wait for a reply. A tug follows his question, the sound of fabric stretching meets my ears, and I nod.
Another pull and I feel every welt that forms on my skin from the rough treatment. The sole sounds in the room are his harsh breathing and mine. Loud exertion, but at the same time desperate for more.
What else could I say? No. Please don’t?
It would’ve been a bullshit lie and we both know it. The voice commands and we follow. It asks and we accept our fate.
There’s a sick part of me that relishes in this madness. Craves him. My Noah.
We’ve been dealt our cards; there is no escape. We must accept our fate.
Either we fuck each other, or we die.