24. Misty
Ethan: Be there in ten.
My heart beats wildlyin my chest as I swoop eyeliner over my right lid. I cuss under my breath when, once again, the wing jerks at the end, and I have to wipe it off for the third time. I’ve been attempting to do my makeup in my tiny bathroom mirror for the last twenty minutes, avoiding my entirely too-casual husband. His gaze tracked my movements when I got home, but he stayed silent as he watched me move about the small apartment.
Taunting Damon is like taunting a wild animal. I’d declared we weren’t exclusive, then quite literally scurried out of his office.
I found the first single hockey player I saw and asked him on a date tonight. Then, I hid in an unused office for the rest of the day, praying that my bracelet really isn’t a tracker.
Damon didn’t come for me though. Instead, Nicholas was waiting for me at the exit, as usual. It was his low brow and quietness that let me know he was disappointed.
What I didn’t tell Nicholas, and I can barely admit to myself, is that I’m jealous. I shouldn’t have expected him to fight against pretend dating. After all, I’m the one requesting it, but I did. Against my better judgment, when he’d asked when we’d start the charade of him dating, something snapped inside of me.
A bone-deep feeling that made my stomach turn and my chest burn with the need to deny him. To scream at him that he’s married to me and how dare he even pretend to date other women. But the slight curve of his lip had my carefully controlled emotions shredding apart, and all rational thought disappeared.
I wanted him to feel like I did. I wanted him to taste the nausea on his tongue the way I was.
So I declared us nonexclusive and then hid.
The thing is, I want him to find me. I want him to prove there’s nothing that will come between us. It might be sick, twisted, and wrong. But after what happened to me in the past, I want someone who’s obsessed with me in the best way. Who’s happy to prove it time and time again.
A man who will enjoy the game as much as I do.
I don’t know when it happened, but Damon’s made me feel daring, like I can be as defiant as I want and he’ll still never let me go.
The doorbell rings, and I take a deep breath, suddenly worried that Damon’s left and I misread this game between us.
A sigh escapes me when I find him waiting for me, leaning on the wall directly beside the front door. His arms are crossed over his chest, his crisp white dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves, revealing the bright colors of his tattoo.
I take my time, scanning up the column of his neck, finally daring to meet his gaze. A thrill goes through me when it’s a burning heat in his expression. His jaw is tight, one brow slightly lifted as he runs a thumb over his lower lip.
“You look beautiful, wife,” he says in a low, raspy warning.
My skin erupts in goose bumps as his attention settles over me.
He uncrosses his arms and gestures to the door beside him. “Aren’t you going to open the door for our guest?”
I swallow hard. “Maybe you should wait in the other room? Don’t you think it’ll look weird that you’re here?”
He cuts me a sharp look, and his head tilts to the side like a predator.
“Open the door, Nymph. Let’s see who you invited to replace me,” he dares.
Damon looks dangerous, unhinged, but it’s not fear running through my veins. There’s a certainty locked in place within me that he’d never hurt me. That he’d protect me at all costs. Which just makes this game all the more powerful because I’ve trapped a dragon and forced him to play it with me.
When I don’t move toward the door, he smirks. “Good girl.” Then, he opens the door himself. Damon’s shoulders are so wide I can barely make out Ethan, but his words carry over to me easily.
“I’m here to pick up Misty.”
I wince, feeling a little bad that I dragged him into it. At least I’d picked one of the guys that had a reputation for being a dick to the girls he dates.
“Your date is canceled,” Damon replies.
“I just talked to her. I know you’re her boss, man, but you can’t monopolize all of her time.”
Damon’s posture grows supple as he leans against the door, but there’s nothing casual in his stance. “It’s you who can’t go out. You’ll want to call your agent. I’ll let Misty know you’re sorry you had to cancel your…evening.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ethan asks, confusion clear in his voice.
“Just that I hope you like the cold. Now, leave.” Damon shuts the door, locking it before turning on me.
“What did you do?” My voice comes out barely above a whisper.
He stalks toward me, eating up the space in a few long strides. He reaches up to grasp my jaw, his fingers too gentle for the motion. “This is what you wanted, right? To have me in your control?” His thumb dips into my mouth and runs along my bottom teeth. “Did you have fun making me jealous?”
“I…that’s not what I was doing,” I lie badly.
His lips replace his thumb, grazing against mine. “Sure it isn’t.” He nips my bottom lip. “I’m always happy to play with you, but I told you that you’re mine. I don’t share what’s mine. Now, what’s your punishment?”
“W…what?” I gasp.
“I told you not to pull that shit again, and here you are, pushing me. You obviously want to be punished.”
Heat floods between my thighs, and I stagger, unable to support my weight. He catches me around my waist, providing support, but he’s standing with a blank expression, wanting my answer. My brain is screaming that hell no I don’t want to be punished, but my body’s lit up with the idea. There’s something in the way he asked it, like he would be doing it for me and not to me, that has my heart skipping in my chest. I started this game, and now it’s up to me to decide to follow through.
I trail my nails up the firm lines of his chest, struggling to take controlled breaths in preparation for what I’m about to do. “I…” My fingers clench in his shirt as I fight against the tremble in my voice.
Stormy gray eyes meet mine. “You don’t need to be afraid of me. I’ll never do anything that you don’t want. I will never hurt you, Misty. Let me make you feel good.”
“Okay.” The air rushes from my lungs, and there’s a dampness pooling between my thighs.
A low purr forms in his chest. “That’s a good girl.” His fingers dig themself into my hair and tilt my chin up. “Now, kneel.”
A shiver rolls through me in anticipation of what comes next. I lower myself to the floor, the smooth linoleum cool on the bare skin of my knees. The outline of Damon’s hard cock is directly in front of me, and I internally celebrate when it jerks with my attention.
“Take it out,” Damon says in a low command.
I pull at the belt, the smooth leather cool on my overheated skin. The small silver prong refuses to let go, and I have to lean closer to gain better leverage. My neck grows warm with embarrassment when it’s clear I’m struggling with the simple task.
Damon strokes his thumb below my hairline, and I look up at him. I let out a long exhale. He’s not judging me or disappointed; he’s staring down at me with pure lust written into his black gaze. I’m still watching him when the belt finally slips free, and I make quick work of getting him out.
His cock is heavy in my hand, and when I try to wrap my fingers around it, the tips barely graze around his width. My mouth waters as I take in the swollen tip, precum dripping from the slit. I can’t help myself from running my tongue over it, filling my mouth with his salty taste before taking the head between my lips.
He groans low in his throat but doesn’t guide me. Instead, he lets me play with him how I want. A power rocks through me as he staggers when I swirl my tongue around him, taking him deeper with each pass. His hips jerk forward, causing me to moan around him.
“Fuck…” He pulls his length out of my mouth, his large hand tightening around the base. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
I whimper at the loss and dig my fingers into his thighs. I want this…more desperately than I should be willing to admit. He runs the tip of his cock along my bottom lip, painting it.
“Open your mouth.”
I swiftly follow his command.
“Stick out your tongue.” I don’t have time to question this position because he slides over my tongue. My lips immediately close around him, and I groan when he pulls out.
“I said open,” he commands in a low, raspy voice that has me trembling.
I open wider, giving him full access, and he doesn’t hesitate to thrust deep into my mouth. I gag when he hits my throat, tears pooling in my eyes. He doesn’t stop, stroking in and out, using me like a toy. My jaw starts to ache from keeping my mouth open, but he doesn’t stop his punishing, delicious movements. His cock grows larger, causing my teeth to scrape across his soft skin, and he buries his hand in my hair, pushing me further down his length. The tip bruises my throat as my mouth waters in anticipation. I’ve never taken anyone this far, and with each thrust, he demands more.
He doesn’t pull out when I gag again. If anything, he pushes in deeper. “That’s it, wife. You look so perfect, mouth filled with my cock.” He bends and strokes a finger along my jaw and down the side of my throat. “Swallow it.”
My gaze snaps to his, unsure I can do what he asks.
“You can. Relax.” He runs his thumb over my neck in a calming motion, and I try to swallow. “That’s it. Just like that.” A thrill goes through me, and I swallow again, moaning as his cock breaches the barrier and I take him deeper.
“Fuck,” His movements grow jerky. My head is dizzy from the lack of oxygen, but all I want is more. I want him deeper. I want to see him break control until he’s wild. I grip his hips and yank him forward. That’s all the encouragement he needs, his cock slipping out and slamming back with each thrust.
He groans and fills my mouth with his cum, bracing himself as he slips out of my mouth. “So fucking perfect.”
His eyes track my tongue as I lick his taste off my lips.
“Is that my punishment?”
A slow, sinister smile curls his lips, and he rubs the corner of my smudged eyeliner. “Not even close.”
He steps back, leaving me on my sore knees, and walks the short distance to the couch. “Come here, lay your stomach over my knee, and take your punishment like the good girl I know you are.”
A thrill mixed with fear tumbles through me. His dark eyes dare me to go through with it. To push myself past my boundaries.
I go to lift myself from the ground, but he stops me.
“Crawl to me,” he demands.
I rear back on my heels, the world swirling with my shock. “I…I can’t.”
“Did you purposely set out to make me jealous?”
I should deny it, but my head’s fuzzy, and I can’t help but do as he wants. “Yes.”
“Do you think that deserves punishment?”
My panties are soaked through. “Yes.”
“Then crawl to me. Show me how good you can be.”
Every ounce of feminism evaporates from my mind. I’ll be a feminist tomorrow. I crawl on my hands and knees as he watches me with pitch-black eyes, the silver completely taken over by his pupils. His hands clench the sofa so hard his knuckles are white, and a muscle ticks in his jaw. Power trickles down my spine, knowing that I’m the one doing this to him. That even though he’s giving the commands, I’m the one making the decisions.
I close the distance between us with more confidence and kneel between his spread legs, eyes wide as I look up at him. The air is thick around us with anticipation.
He pats his thigh. “On your stomach, wife.”
My body trembles as I lift up and lay myself over him, the hard muscle digging into my stomach.
He flips my skirt over my back, revealing my pink lace panties. A low groan escapes his throat, and he rips them off, balling them in his fist. “You’re going to pay for wearing these for him.”
He brings the fabric up to my closed mouth, and I refuse to open. His free hand smacks hard against my exposed ass, and I gasp with the shock.
He fills my mouth with my panties that taste like me, and he closes my jaw when I go to spit them out.
“Keep them in, or you’ll just prolong this.”
There’s a frustrated anger wrapped around my lust that has every nerve standing on its end. I wiggle on his lap. He pins me down with one arm as his other hand trails over my ass, already sore. Tension builds in my stomach, a desperation for more burning through my anger. I can’t stop myself from rocking against him, searching for the friction I desperately need.
His fingers dig into my hip. “Beg for it, wife.”
I glare at him and spread my mouth wider, revealing the panties he’d stuffed it with. How am I supposed to beg?
He chuckles low, but it’s the slow motion of his fingers up my thighs that has me moaning for more.
“Please.” My words are muffled from the fabric in my mouth, and he takes them out.
“Please, what?”
I let out a frustrated whimper. “Spank me.”
He pulls my legs further apart, leaving me completely exposed. Vulnerable, I attempt to close them, but he stops me, and I stay perfectly still.
A low chuckle rolls from him. “That’s my good girl.” It’s punctuated by the sharp sting of his palm. My entire body comes alive, the pain quickly morphing into pleasure, causing my clit to throb. He spanks me again, and I moan.
His fingers dig into my hair, tilting my head back so he can look into my eyes. “You like that, don’t you, wife? You like to be punished.”
I can’t speak. I’m breathing so hard, but he must read the answer in my eyes because he spanks me again, this time landing right over my core. My senses shatter with the new sensation, and I struggle to inhale before he does it again. My clit pulses with the tempo of my heart that he sets with each touch. I’m completely lost to him, brain short-firing through the fog. He shifts lower and lands his slap directly against my clit.
My orgasm slams into me, my entire body quaking as it rushes through my limbs. Damon doesn’t stop, instead alternating between my clit and spanking me hard, building a pressure inside me I’ve never felt before. He guides me higher and higher until I explode, my cum gushing out of me. Holy shit. What was that?
“Fuck yes,” he hisses. “Such a good girl. So perfect for me, wife.”
I collapse against him, too exhausted to be embarrassed, trying to concentrate on my breathing before I pass out. He doesn’t give me time to come down, instead flipping me stomach down on the sofa. He straddles my ass, pinning me down, and tears the seam of my dress up the side.
My veins freeze at the memories of another time, a different man pinning me from behind. My muscles seize, cutting off my breaths. No, no, no. Please, no. I grip the sofa, trying to hold on to the here and now.
I’m safe, I’m safe, I’m safe.
I repeat the words in my head, trying to surface from the fear, but I can still feel Thomas’s clammy hands holding me in place, the sharp edge of his blade cutting through my skin.
I’m in Boston. He can’t get me. I’m in Boston. Boston. Boston. Boston.
The chant in my head slowly grounds me enough that my surroundings trickle back into my consciousness. My face is buried into something warm and hard, and the scent of cigars and cologne fills my lungs with each breath. Strong arms are wrapped around my middle, holding me up, but the terrifying feeling of being trapped is gone.
Damon.
“It’s okay. Shhhh, Misty. It’s okay. I promise nothing can touch you now.” He splays his fingers over my back, spanning from my ribs to shoulders, and strokes up and down over the thin fabric of my dress, murmuring reassurances in my ear. “I have you. I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe with me.”
I let out a shuddering breath as his strength slowly infiltrates my mind, burning away any memory of Thomas. He’s gone, and Damon will never let him get me back. The realization that I feel completely safe with Damon rattles me. I’d purposely set out to make one of the most dangerous men in the city jealous, and I didn’t worry about the consequences. I knew, whatever it was, he’d make me like it. Somehow, this man has become safe to me, and my heart doesn’t know how to handle it.
I pull back just enough to meet his gaze, no doubt looking like a complete disaster, nose red, tears streaking down my face. “Sorry.”
“How very Canadian of you,” he murmurs as he trails a thumb along my cheek, catching a stray tear. He’s being gentle with me, but there’s an underlying coldness in his gaze, a rigidness to his body that gives away the rage building within him.
“Tell me what happened, and I’ll fix it.” His stormy gray eyes glint silver as he studies me.
“It’s…it’s fine.” I relish the idea of Damon tracking Thomas down and ruining his life, but that would come with the need to face everything.
Cool air hits my back when he moves his arm, and I flinch, scrambling to grab the ripped seam of my dress. Suddenly, even the idea of him seeing my scars, of how broken I’ve been, makes me want to throw up. I grab the seams of my dress, holding them together in a fierce grip.
“I can’t.”
His head rears back, hurt written in his eyes.
“Just…just leave my dress on.” My voice is almost a cry, and I can see his face drain of color.
Damon stares at me for several seconds before nodding and pulling me against his chest. I can feel his heart pounding against mine as he sucks in air. His body’s trembling, as if he’s using every ounce of his willpower. His arms bind me to him, squeezing once, then letting go. He kisses the top of my head before getting up and leaving me to go to the bathroom without a word.
I collapse back on the couch. I’ve upset him, but I don’t know what to say to make it better. I care what he thinks more than I want to admit.
I want him to see me as he does right now. Not as the broken girl I was.