Chapter Twenty Two
I’m going to do it. I’m going to fuck him, and let myself regret it in the morning.
Maybe I shouldn’t have had a fifth prosecco, or maybe the sexual tension Rhys massaged into my body is winning through, but I don’t currently care.
I’m a student. This is what students do.
Make bad decisions and spend the rest of the semester running from them.
Yes girl, be a cliché, and enjoy every hard inch of it.
I mean minute. Every veiny, throbbing minute.
I hiccup a laugh, stumbling slightly on the stairs.
It must be late, because mostly everyone who doesn’t live here has either left or passed out.
Either that, or Rhys has had them all kicked out again.
Less people to watch me navigate my way up the stairs, dripping wet and hugging the railing like a lifetime.
I only slip twice, to my credit, and manage to remember Rhys’ directions.
Left at the top of the stairs, last room on the end.
There was also something about preparing for a night I’ll never forget as Rhys pushed me from his lap to stand in all his tattooed glory.
I kind of stopped listening when I saw the outline of his erection touching the inside of his waistband.
He left me to finish my drink, which was inevitably the one to push me over the edge of sanity.
Turning left at the hallway, the jersey clings to me like a second skin, restricting my movements as if it’s trying to drag me backwards.
‘No, don’t do it,” the material seems to say, so I drag it over my head and slap it down onto the tiled floor.
I then proceed to trip over the heap of sodden material like a final kick from karma, but I’m still undeterred with no fucks given.
I’m a big girl. I can handle this. Squaring my shoulders, I reach the final door at the end and push it wide open.
The room is dark, only lit by a bedside lamp with an ominous red bulb.
Sturdy, wooden furniture sits around the edge of a huge bed in the middle, various curiously shaped objects spread across the covers.
“You sure love making me wait.” Rhys’s voice echoing inside my head makes me jump as I step inside, the door slamming closed behind me.
He steps into sight from his spot against the wall, crackling his knuckles one at a time.
His eyes are churning with a such ferocity, I can’t tell it’s from desire or impatience. Probably a mixture of both.
Looking at him over my shoulder, I cock an eyebrow with a slanted smile and head towards the bed.
What do we have here then? There’s an array of objects from every sadist’s dreams, all in black and most in leather.
Handcuffs, blindfolds, vibrators and butt plugs in multiple sizes, and a paddle.
That one I quickly discard, flashbacks of the hog chase filtering through my drunken mind.
Rhys doesn’t react to me flinging the paddle across the room, most likely realizing his fuck up.
Moving on, I trail my finger over a thick leash and lift the surprisingly heavy collar attached. Rhys’s initials have been engraved in the center above a black metal ring.
“Do you need a safe word?” Rhys presses his body against my back so he can trail his lips along my exposed neck.
His fingers follow, appreciating the lace underwear he’s seeing for the first time.
Plucking the string of my thong, a low sound vibrates through his chest and his teeth lightly sink into the space between my neck and shoulder.
“No,” I breathe, unhooking the collar’s buckle.
“But you do.” I twist in his arms before he can anticipate the shift in power, looping the leather snug around his throat.
His eyes flicker with surprise, but he’s too late to catch me.
Maybe I’m not the only one a tad too drunk, or maybe he’s just drunk on me.
His hooded eyes blink lazily, a delay in the tightening of his jaw.
Toying with the leash, I curl it around my hand and give it a hard yank so he’s eye level with me.
Unclipping the mic from the chain in my hair, I attach it on the side of the collar with a mischievous smirk.
“I don’t think so, Babygirl,” he practically growls. Delayed fury blazes in his blue irises but it only boosts my actions. I tilt my head the way he does, thrumming with dominance.
“Your safe word can be jacuzzi. I hope you’re prepared for a night you’ll never forget Rhys Waversea.
” Sliding my fingers beneath the leather, I pull him closer for our lips to brush.
A mockingly light touch before I bite down on his bottom lip hard.
Talking about hard, Rhys’ cock jolts against my stomach, a deep rumbling continues to passing through his throat.
Licking a path across the bite, savoring his taste of smoke and whiskey, I drag the pad of my tongue across his piercing, and Rhys snaps.
Lunging forward, he devours me. My tongue, my mouth, my jaw.
He returns the bites all over my skin, shaking with the need to cause pain and bring pleasure.
I tug on the collar, dragging him back to my mouth.
Heat bursts throughout my body like molten lava seeping down my throat, his tongue coiling and battling with mine for the control I refuse to let him have.
Every part of me feels too warm, my skin too tight.
His hard length is pushing against my stomach, my thighs clenching together with need.
Pushing him back a step, my chest heaves and I fight to regain focus.
Moving the rest of the items aside, I point for him to sit on the edge of the bed.
He looks like he’s going to refuse me, so I release my hair from his chain, letting the pink strands tumble down either side of my breasts and I pout.
“Sit for me?” After a beat, Rhys reluctantly complies, sitting so his mouth is a breath away from my chest. Yep, defiantly drunk on me.
“Now, don’t move,” I order. I unfasten my bra and peel the wet material from my body as Rhys watches on hungrily.
My nipples are painfully hard from a mixture of the damp and cold, Rhys’s fists clenching as he spots the small, metal bar through my left nipple.
I hear his frustration vibrate through my skull.
I laugh internally while easing my thong down my legs and stepping out of them.
Sensing he won’t stay seated much longer, I saunter towards him slowly and use his jaw to guide him onto my breast. He latches on so quickly, I gasp loud enough to hear myself through the microphone. I tease the length of the leash through my fingers whilst bathing in his attention, his raw power.
Sucking, licking, biting. Pleasure and pain zip straight to my core which he increases by slipping a hand between my legs.
He groans against my skin at how wet he finds me, pushing two fingers inside instantly.
Light bursts behind my eyes. All of the teasing and touching and waiting up to now has been foreplay.
There’s no need to wait anymore. Propping my foot beside him on the bed, I hold onto his shoulders as he pumps his fingers vigorously and moves to draw my pierced nipple into his mouth.
Every internal stroke mirrors a powerful suck on my breast, need building into a quickened crescendo.
I’ve got the devil between my legs, fixated on playing my body like an instrument.
Pushing his thumb roughly against my clit, I can’t stop myself from coming apart on a strangled moan.
My free hand finds his hair, gripping it tightly so I can ride the waves of ecstasy without him pulling away.
Biting my lip, I pick up my resolve and take a step back out of Rhys’s reach.
Maintaining my eye contact, he lifts his fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean.
A shudder races down my spine, a level of lust I’ve never experienced before banishing all of my reservations and spurring my actions here on out.
Dropping to my knees, I reach across to grab the handcuffs and shackle each of his wrists to the bed’s base either side of his thighs. He doesn’t resist, watching me intently and curiously. Once secure, I scrape the tips of my nails along the inside of his legs making him buck and hiss.
“I could break out of these easily, you know.” He growls whilst tugging against the restraints, but I simply sit back on my heels.
“Each time you try, I’ll stop.” His chest is rising and falling quickly, the inked angels and demons coming to life as they are stretched and twisted.
Rhys grits his teeth and relaxes, signaling that I can continue.
That he’ll behave. A different kind of beast swells in my chest, instinctively knowing that I have Rhys in a way no one else has. I have him submitting.
Kneeling upwards and starting at his neck, I kiss my way down his tattooed skin and lean muscles.
Several hidden scars pass beneath my lips but I’m too distracted to question them, turning my attention to Rhys’ boxers.
He’s rock hard inside, bobbing free when I peel his waistband off and down his legs.
What a beautiful cock. I’ve avoided appreciating it until now, both to annoy Rhys and to gear myself up.
He’s as big as I knew he’d be, having caught a glimpse in the locker room showers, those small silver balls gleaming.
My gaze flicks up and Rhys smirks at me knowingly.
He’s far too cocky for someone who’s tied up and supposed to be at my mercy, so I don’t hold off wiping that smile off his face.
Taking his length into the back of my throat in one swift thrust, Rhys’ shocked grunt reverberates through my head.
I beam around his shaft. The rounded ends of his piercing take a moment to adjust to, but soon become my new favorite obsession.