Chapter 15
EMBER
The ropes bite into my wrists, but not hard enough to hurt. Just enough to hold me in place. The blindfold is soft, though it makes my world pitch black. My breathing echoes in the silence of the forest, shallow and sharp.
I know this isn’t real. It can’t be.
But the terrible memory whispers anyway, a ghost brushing my ear. Shawn’s weight pressing me down, his hot breath sour as it chased me into every corner of my childhood. My stomach flips, bile and fear rising together until I hear it—a low chuckle, unmistakably his.
Rodion .
My lungs loosen enough to pull in air as relief floods me, shoving the past into the dark. He doesn’t say my name, but he doesn’t have to.
“I told you,” he murmurs, footsteps circling me. “Careful what you wish for, little queen.”
Relief floods me as heat races down my spine, battling the cold bite of the night air against my skin. He’s doing this—exactly as I’d described it in the video I never thought he’d see. The timing, the details, even the pull of the ropes.
“You’re sick,” I say, though my voice is husky and affected, betraying me.
“And you like it.” His words are a low growl, too close to my ear. I jerk instinctively, but he steps back, giving me space I don’t want.
“Say stop if you want to.” His tone turns softer, a question disguised as a dare. “I’ll hear it, Ember. I’ll stop everything.”
I hate how much I don’t want to say it. Hate how much I trust him, even now, bound and blindfolded and god knows where.
When I stay silent, his hand touches my arm, skimming down to my wrist where the rope holds me. “Good girl,” he says, his voice thick with approval. “You’re not afraid of me.”
“I should be,” I snap, but my voice trembles for an entirely different reason.
His fingers trail away, and the sound of his boots shifts, crunching leaves as he moves behind me. “Oh, I don’t know. You might be safer with me than anyone else.”
There’s something dark in his voice, and I know it isn’t a lie. If he knew what really made me scared… if I told him about Shawn.
I can’t tell him.
Rodion pulls me back to the moment, brushing my hair away from my neck. His lips barely graze my skin, and I shiver. “I’ve thought about this,” he admits, his hands tightening the ropes slightly as if to ground me. “Your little video—so proud of your words but so clueless who was watching.”
“You were stalking me,” I accuse, though the words sound faint, almost playful.
“You made it easy,” he counters, and then his hand grips my hip, holding me firmly in place.
When he finally loosens the ropes, I let out a small gasp, though I’m not ready for the rough silk sliding from my eyes. I blink as the moon filters through the trees, and in front of me, he stands—bigger, broader than life. His face is unreadable, the sharp angles softened only by the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.
He takes my chin between his fingers, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. “I thought about tying you to a tree,” he says casually. “But I have a better idea. For now.”
I swallow; the reality of him is so much more than the fantasy. He takes my hand and gently but firmly pulls me along a narrow path. It’s eerily quiet, the forest swallowing every sound but the rustle of our clothes and the occasional snap of a twig.
When the cabin looms into view, my knees nearly give out. It’s old, the wood weathered but sturdy, the kind of place you’d find in a thriller or a dream.
Inside, the air is heavy with the scent of pine and cured wood. Firewood crackles faintly in the corner, though the flames are low, casting golden light across the room. A large but rustic bed sits in the center, draped in thick quilts.
Rodion’s hand slides up my arm, his touch firm but never harsh. “Tell me to stop,” he says again, his voice softer now. “Say it, Ember. Tell me to take you home.”
I shake my head, my throat too tight to speak.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. Then he pushes me back onto the bed, his weight pinning me down just enough to remind me I’m exactly where I want to be. His hands skim my wrists, binding them to the headboard with practiced ease.
Oh god.
When he leans down, his breath is warm against my ear. “Now, let’s see how much you like this fantasy of yours.”
I try to swallow but find it hard. I’m excited and nervous and so fucking turned on—I’d probably come if he dared to kiss me.
The ropes rub against my wrists, not enough to hurt but enough to remind me they’re there—tight and unyielding, just like him. Firelight dances on the cabin walls, the only light in the room, and it paints Rodion in hues of molten gold and shadow. He prowls at the edge of the bed, his gaze devouring me, and I shiver despite the warmth of the room.
“Do you know what you’ve done, little queen? I’ve seen how many times you’ve packed up and moved. You’re good at covering it up with the camera, pointing it at others instead of facing it yourself. But I see everything. The way you love to keep people at an arm’s distance so you don’t have to get too close…” His voice is a low growl, roughened with just enough heat and danger to make my stomach flip. “I want to hold you still so you stop running for a second. You don’t trust me? Smart. I’m not here to promise you safety. I’m here to show you what those fantasies really feel like.”
My body responds before my brain does, my thighs squeezing together in search of friction. He notices, of course, because Rodion misses nothing. A dark smirk pulls at his lips as he crawls onto the bed, his weight sinking into the mattress. He smells like woodsmoke and pine. The warmth of his body contrasts with the cold of the cabin. His eyes burn into me like lasers, focused and sharp.
I shiver.
I want more.
“You like this,” he says, his hand brushing my bare thigh before gripping it hard, pinning me in place. “You like being tied up for me. You like being helpless under me, don’t you, little queen?”
I hate how easily he pulls the truth out of me, even as I shake my head.
“Lying doesn’t suit you,” he whispers, leaning in until his breath skates across my ear. “But I don’t mind. I’ll make an honest woman out of you.”
His hand leaves my thigh, and before I can process the loss, he brings it down on my ass—hard.
Oh fuck.
The sound cracks through the cabin, sharp and punishing, and I gasp, my back arching involuntarily. The sting blossoms into heat, and I feel it everywhere, radiating through my body and settling deep in my core.
I want more.
“Rodion!” I gasp, but he shakes his head, his smirk turning into something darker.
“You know you love it, little queen,” he says, his palm sliding over the spot he just spanked, soothing it before lifting his hand again.
The second slap lands harder, stealing my breath. It’s the kind of pain that melts into pleasure too fast, too easily, leaving me trembling and aching for more.
“Do you understand now?” he asks, his voice velvet and steel. “You don’t get to tease me with your fantasies and then squirm when I make them real.”
“I wasn’t squirming,” I shoot back, the words leaving my mouth before I can stop them.
His laughter is dark and dangerous. “No?” He leans back, dragging his hand across my skin again before delivering another stinging blow. This time, I can’t stop the whimper that slips from my lips.
“Say it, baby,” he commands, his fingers tracing the curve of my hip, teasing and tormenting. “Say you’re mine.”
“You’re insane,” I manage, but my voice wavers, betraying me.
He shifts lower, his mouth pressing kisses along the sensitive skin of my thighs, each one hotter and closer to where I need him most. “You don’t want me to stop, do you?” he asks, his lips brushing against the edge of my panties.
“No,” I admit, the word barely a whisper.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, his breath hot against me as he peels the fabric down. This time, I love the “good girl.” His fingers slide between my thighs, and I can’t stop the sharp cry that escapes when he finds how wet I am.
“You’re dripping for me,” he says, his voice heavy with approval. “My little queen, so fucking wet for her king.”
I moan, arching into his touch, but he pulls away before I can chase the feeling.
“Oh no, you don’t,” he says, sitting back on his heels. “You’re not getting what you want until I’m satisfied.”
I writhe against the ropes, frustration building to a fever pitch as he trails his fingers up my stomach, between my breasts, and back to my jaw. He grips it, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“Do you know what happens to queens who disobey their king?” he asks, his tone deceptively soft.
I shake my head, too breathless to speak, and his smirk returns, wicked and knowing. “They get punished.”
Before I can respond, he flips me over, the ropes twisting to hold me in place as he pushes me onto my stomach. His hand comes down on my ass again, the sharp sting sending a surprising jolt of pleasure through my entire body.
“Count.”
Oh my fucking god, he really is acting out every damn fantasy. But wait… I need a minute.
“Rodion—”
“I said count , little queen.”
“One,” I whisper, and he rewards me with another stinging slap.
“Louder,” he demands, his free hand resting on the small of my back, holding me still.
“Two!” I cry, my voice breaking as the heat between my legs intensifies, the sting of his hand fueling a fire I can’t control.
“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” he murmurs, his voice laced with satisfaction. His hand soothes the burn with a slow, deliberate caress, but it’s not enough. The ache inside me grows sharper, my body trembling with need. How could I have ever denied liking good girl ?
It’s everything.
The next strike lands harder, and I arch into it, the ropes digging into my wrists as I pull against them. “Three!” I gasp, the sound raw and desperate.
“Perfect,” he growls, his free hand sliding between my thighs. His fingers find my slick heat, and I choke on a moan as he teases me, circling just enough to drive me mad but not enough to push me over.
“Rodion, please,” I beg, unable to hold back anymore. “Please, I can’t?—”
“Shh,” he interrupts, his fingers retreating just as I think he might finally give me what I need. “Relax, and I think you’ll find you can take more than you think you can.”
He flips me onto my back again with infuriating ease, his hands strong and unyielding. The ropes stretch and twist, holding me in place, and his eyes meet mine, molten and feral.
“You’ve been so good,” he says, dragging a finger down the length of my body. “But I want to hear you beg properly.”
“I am begging,” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Not enough,” he says, leaning down until his mouth hovers just over mine. “Say it, Ember. Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I breathe out, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.
But I like how it makes me feel.
Obsessive, possessive, jealous boyfriend?
Yup.
I watch as he slowly takes off his clothes. I’m mesmerized at the sight of the hard planes of muscles and ink, his sturdy thighs. He leans over me, kissing my cheek, grinding his hot, thick erection against my legs. Reaching to the side, he tears open a condom and slides it on.
I want him in me.
I moan and swallow as his hands go to my hips, gripping them hard enough to leave marks as he positions himself between my legs.
“Tell me you want this.” His whole body trembles with the effort of holding himself back. Seeing his self-control breaks something in me, tearing down a wall I didn’t know I’d constructed. My body arches into him, as I whisper a shuddering plea. “Yes. Rodion. Please.”
“That’s it, baby,” he whispers against my mouth. I’m holding my breath when he thrusts into me in one long, devastating motion.
I cry out, the sensation overwhelming as he fills me completely, his body pressing me into the mattress. The ropes hold me still, making every movement his to control, every inch of pleasure his to give.
“Mine,” he growls, setting a brutal, relentless rhythm that steals my breath. “Say it again.”
“Yours.” I moan, my head falling back as the pleasure coils tighter, hotter, threatening to snap.
“Louder,” he demands, one hand slipping to my throat, holding me in place as he drives into me. It’s all I need. The pressure of his hand at my throat, knowing he could hurt me but isn’t… the latent threat excites and unnerves me. At the feel of his hands on my throat, I shatter.
“Yours!” I scream as I break apart beneath him, the pleasure blinding and all-consuming.
He doesn’t stop, chasing his own release as he growls my name like a prayer, his grip on my hips tightening. When he finally follows me with a groan of pure pleasure, his body shudders against mine, and he collapses onto me. I sigh, still shivering in the aftershocks of absolute ecstasy.
For a long moment, the only sound in the cabin is our ragged breathing, the ropes still holding me in place as he brushes a hand over my cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle.
“Little queen,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my temple. “Ember. You’re perfect .”
And as my body melts into his, spent and sated, I realize that in his arms, I don’t just feel claimed—I feel safe.
This is nothing like my book fantasies and book boyfriends. Being with Rodion is so, so much better than anything I ever imagined.