Chapter Seventeen #3
I could hear my breathing now.
“I-I want you to tie my wrists behind my back.”
“Again.”
“I want you to tie my wrists behind my back.”
Wolf stepped close enough that his chest almost touched mine.
“And if you want me to stop?”
“I say stop,” I replied.
“And what happens?”
“You stop.”
“How fast?”
“Immediately.”
Wolf studied my face.
“Good.”
I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself.
His hand closed around the back of my neck so fast it stole my breath, fingers settling firmly at my nape and keeping me exactly where he wanted me without tightening.
“What did I say about your eyes?”
My pulse hammered against his palm.
“To keep them on you.”
“Then why the fuck am I repeating myself again?”
The pressure of his hand, the tactical mask, the black webbing hanging from his other fist and the anger he had not bothered to hide should have pushed me farther away from him.
Instead, I wanted more.
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
“Bullshit.”
“Maybe I just like hearing you say it.”
Wolf’s fingers tightened at my nape.
“There’s that dirty fucking mouth again.”
I smiled. “You seem to like it that way.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Open it.”
I pressed my lips together instead.
It was childish, probably, but the corner of my mouth still pulled upward when I shook my head. Wolf watched me for a moment, his hand loosening at my nape before slowly sliding around to the front of my throat.
He didn’t squeeze. His palm simply settled there, warm against my skin, his fingers spanning enough of my neck that I was painfully aware of how little effort it would take if he decided to.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded, still smiling at him through sealed lips. The fact that he asked only made me want to push him further.
His fingers tightened around my throat, gradually enough that I could feel the warning in it before the pressure became uncomfortable. I kept my eyes on his, refusing to give him the reaction he was looking for, and something darkened in the narrow strip of his face the mask left visible.
“Open your mouth,” he repeated.
I shook my head again.
His other hand shifted up before I understood what he was doing. His thumb and forefinger closed over my nose, cutting off my only other option to breathe entirely.
My eyebrows shot up.
Oh, you fucking asshole.
Wolf stared down at me while realization fully caught up, completely unmoved by the look I gave him.
“Breathe through that smart mouth or don’t breathe at all.”
I held out purely because I refused to give him the satisfaction.
My eyes stayed locked on his, narrowed with enough anger that any normal person might have reconsidered what they were doing.
Wolf didn’t. He didn’t shift his weight or loosen his grip, and there wasn’t even a flicker of impatience in his eyes. He just stood there and waited, completely fucking unbothered, like he had already decided I would give in and had nowhere else to be until I did.
The urge to breathe came gradually at first, then all at once. Pressure tightened through my chest, and I swallowed against the instinct to open my mouth.
My glare sharpened but his expression didn’t change.
Asshole.
I tried to hold on a little longer out of spite, but my body eventually won the argument. My lips parted open wide and the breath rushed out of me, followed immediately by a desperate inhale.
Wolf didn’t give me enough time to use the breath for words. His fingers stayed clamped around my nose as he tipped my head back, forcing my face up toward his.
With his other hand, he released my throat and hooked two fingers beneath the lower edge of the mask, dragging it up just far enough to uncover his mouth. I caught a flash of dark stubble and the shape of his lips before he leaned over me.
Then he spat directly onto my tongue.
The mask dropped back into place almost immediately, hiding him again before I could get more than that brief glimpse. Heat rushed through me so fast it was almost embarrassing.
There was mint underneath the faint taste of cigarettes, familiar enough by now that I knew exactly where it came from, and the sheer filthiness of what he had just done sent another pulse of warmth low through my stomach.
I swallowed without thinking.
His eyes stayed on my mouth. “Good girl.”
Fuck.
He released my nose as I dragged in a deeper breath, staring up at him. Then he took half a step back, the black webbing still hanging loose from his fist.
“Turn around.”
I stayed where I was for one heartbeat too long. He leaned closer until the fabric of his mask brushed my temple.
“You want me rough, Mercer? Stop making me ask nicely.”
Every bit of air left my lungs as I turned.
The office window reflected us back. My field clothes were still rumpled and dusty from the warehouse, my hair half-fallen from its tie, while Wolf stood a full head and shoulders above me in black from throat to boots.
The mask swallowed almost all of his face, leaving only his eyes visible over my shoulder, dark and fixed on mine.
“Hands behind you.”
I brought them back.
“Higher.”
I raised them.
Wolf caught one wrist, then the other, arranging them exactly where he wanted them before the webbing touched my skin.
“Last chance.”
I looked at his eyes in the reflection.
“I said yes.”
“I know what you said. I’m asking again.”
I held his gaze.
“Yes.”
The webbing slid around my wrists.
He tightened it slowly enough that I felt every pass of the nylon and every brush of his fingers against the inside of my forearms. The first time he had put this material on me, my body had fought him before my mind caught up.
Tonight I stood still because he had told me to, because I had asked him to do it and because every second he took checking the tension made the choice feel more deliberate.
Wolf tested the restraint.
“Too tight?”
“No.”
“Numbness?”
“No.”
“Pain?”
“No.”
His eyes met mine in the window.
“Then stop fucking moving.”
I had not realized I was shifting my weight.
“Bossy.”
His hand returned to the nape of my neck.
“You haven’t seen bossy yet.”
The words went through me so cleanly that I had to press my knees together. His eyes dropped in the reflection, then returned to my face.
“Interesting.”
“Don’t start.”
“I haven’t started anything.”
His grip tightened enough to tip my head back.
“That’s the part you should probably be worried about.”
My breathing went shallow as I remembered the car door again. Wolf walked around me and stopped in front of the desk chair. He looked at me for several seconds, letting the silence do more work than the threat in his voice had.
Then he sat.
His broad shoulders filled the chair while his eyes stayed fixed on mine through the mask. With the taste of his spit in my mouth, my wrists bound behind my back and him watching me from there, the whole argument seemed to settle into something hotter than I wanted to admit.
Wolf leaned back in the chair.
“Come here.”
I took a step.
“No.”
I stopped.
His eyes moved over me in a slow sweep.
“On your knees.”
A breath of disbelief escaped me.
“You cannot be serious.”
“Did I sound like I was fucking kidding?”
He waited.
“We’re going to use that mouth for something useful, Mercer.”
The words sent a hot pulse down my spine as my mouth involuntarily felt saliva build up.
I lowered myself carefully, the restraint behind my back making the movement awkward enough that I had to shift my balance halfway down. The concrete pressed cold through the knees of my cargo pants. Wolf watched every second of it.
When I finally settled, he tipped his head toward himself.
“Now crawl.”
I looked at the distance between us, then at my bound hands.
“I can’t exactly crawl with my hands tied.”
His eyes did not leave mine.
“Figure it out.”
I started inching forward across the floor using my knees but Wolf’s voice stopped me almost immediately.
“I didn’t tell you to scoot on your fucking knees.”
I froze.
My head turned toward him. “What exactly do you think crawling looks like when my hands are tied behind my back?”
His head tilted slightly.
“I think you’ll figure it out.”
“You cannot be serious.”
Wolf leaned his temple against one fist and watched me. He had no intention of helping. And no impatience either. He was perfectly content to sit there and make me work it out while every second stretched my embarrassment thinner.
“Crawl, Mercer.”
I looked down at the floor. There was no graceful way to do it. That became obvious almost immediately. I shifted forward on my knees, tried using my shoulder for leverage and nearly tipped sideways.
Wolf said nothing.
When I looked up, those damn eyes were still fixed on me through the opening of his mask.
“You enjoying this?”
“Keep moving.”
“Asshole.”
His fingers tapped once against the side of his face.
“Crawl.”
I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself.
Instead, I lowered my head.
The floor was cold against my cheek when I turned my face sideways and used my knees to push myself forward.
Without my hands, I had to drag the rest of my body after them, shoulders working awkwardly while my bound wrists stayed against my lower back.
There was nothing remotely sexy about the mechanics of it. I felt ridiculous.
Wolf kept his eyes on me as I pushed again, grunting as my cheek brushed the floor before I managed another few inches.
“Look how fucking pathetic you are,” he said. “All that attitude, and now you’re crawling because I told you to.”
“Fuck you,” I muttered.
His eyes narrowed.
“Crawl.”
I dragged myself forward again.
By the time I reached his boots, my face was burning hot enough to make the cold floor almost welcome. I stopped between his feet and lifted my head just enough to glare at him. Wolf straightened and slid his hand into my hair at the back of my head.
Then he yanked me upright.
A sharp breath escaped me as he brought me onto my knees between his legs, my shoulders brushing the inside of his thighs before he steadied me. His grip stayed firm in my hair for another second before loosening. The change caught me off guard.