Chapter 35 Willow
WILLOW
Vic blinks at me, his entire body jolting as if he’s been zapped with electricity.
His fingers curl and uncurl, his jaw falling open a little… but then he snaps it closed, shaking his head.
“That’s not a good idea, butterfly. What if I hurt you? What if I can’t hold myself back?”
“I don’t need you to hold yourself back. I trust you, Vic,” I whisper fiercely. I glance over at Ransom and Malice, who have been watching this interaction silently. Malice gives me a tiny nod, so I press on. “And your brothers are here. They can keep watch and make sure I’m alright. Okay?”
I can tell it’s a lot, what I’m proposing here. It’s way out of his comfort zone.
Usually, he’s the one watching while the others do things to me, and this would be flipping that dynamic completely on its head. But I feel like he needs it. He needs to understand that he can do whatever he wants, and nothing he does will disappoint me or scare me off.
He’s kept himself in check, so tightly regimented for so long, that he panics when something throws his emotions out of order. But I need him to see that he can let go of his tight grip on his feelings without losing control over everything.
And this is the only way I can think of to do that.
I glance over at Malice and Ransom again, half worried that they won’t be on board with what I just volunteered them to do. Malice for one has never been a passive observer of anything, and both of them might be worried that this is too reckless or that I’ll push Vic too far.
But they each nod again, agreeing to watch.
To let this happen.
My gaze shifts back to Vic, my heart knocking in my chest. He’s already the one in control of this, because if he says no, I’ll let it go. But I hope like hell that he’ll trust me enough—that he’ll trust his brothers enough—to try.
His eyes bounce back and forth between mine, hesitation and something like hope written across his face.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“Yes,” I promise him. “I just want you to be able to do what you want, Vic. Whatever it is. I want you to see that it will be okay.”
Long seconds tick by, and I can tell he’s debating internally, warring with himself and probably playing out a million different scenarios in his mind, trying to guess what will happen—another way he tries to keep control.
I don’t move, and I don’t say anything else, letting him decide.
Finally, slowly, Vic nods.
“Okay,” he whispers.
My pulse immediately starts to race like a runaway train, but I do my best to keep my outward appearance calm as I step back and start to undress.
I toe off my shoes and kick them away, peeling my socks off next.
My toes sink into the plush carpet on the floor as I pull my shirt over my head, letting my hair fall around my shoulders.
Each new stretch of bared skin draws Vic’s gaze, and I can see that he’s hungry for it. His fingers twitch at his sides, like he wants to reach out and touch me, but he doesn’t yet.
I keep going, taking off my pants and then removing my bra. On and on, until I’m naked in the center of the room, all three of the brothers looking at me.
I like having all of their attention, but right now, I’m entirely focused on Vic. On the way he sucks in a breath and lets his eyes trail over my body.
He doesn’t move, so I climb onto the bed, lying down in the center of it before looking at Ransom and Malice.
“Can you help me?” I ask them.
“One sec.” Ransom dips his chin, then strides out of the room.
He comes back less than two minutes later with a bundle of thin ropes, which I’m guessing he got from one of the bags the guys packed for our getaway.
I don’t ask where he got them from though, because in this moment, I don’t really care.
Instead, I focus on my breathing as he divides the ropes between him and Malice and the two of them approach the bed.
They each take a side, spreading my legs out and binding my ankles to the corner posts of the bed.
When I try to close my legs, I get nowhere, and a little spark of electricity shoots up my spine at the knowledge that this is really happening.
They do the same thing with my wrists, working carefully around the healing cut where Ransom sliced out the tracker.
Once they’re done, I tug on the bindings, seeing how much slack I have.
The answer is not much at all. I’m not going anywhere until someone lets me go.
The air in the bedroom isn’t cold, but it’s still cool enough to make my nipples pebble a little, goosebumps dancing over my skin. I’m intensely aware of every single sensation I’m experiencing right now, from the slight chafing of the ropes to the softness of the blanket beneath my back.
Finished with their part in this, Malice and Ransom step back and stare down at me, heat burning in their eyes as they stand side by side at the edge of the bed.
I can imagine what I look like, spread open and spread out, helpless to do anything but lie here. There was definitely a time when I would have rather gnawed my own arm off than let the three of them see me in a vulnerable position like this, but now it feels natural.
It feels right.
Their eyes never leave me, but they move back to stand by the door again, letting Victor have the floor.
For a long moment, Vic doesn’t move. He seems rooted to the spot, staring at me. Part of me wonders if he’s even going to move at all.
My heart keeps pounding, and I can feel my body responding to the way Vic is looking at me. My clit throbs softly, and when I tug at the ropes, the reminder of how restrained and restricted I am sends a shot of arousal through me. A little whimper spills from my lips, and Vic groans in response.
“Willow…”
He sounds almost tortured, and I catch his gaze, trying to let him feel the connection between us.
“You’re in control,” I remind him. “Whatever you want, Vic. Anything you want.”
Suddenly, he bursts into motion, crossing the space to the bed in a few long strides before kicking off his shoes and climbing up.
He kneels between my spread legs, and for a second, it doesn’t seem like he knows what to do. Or what he wants to do first. His eyes dart all around, taking in the ropes around my wrists, the expanse of my skin on display, the way my breasts rise and fall with my heavy breaths.
It’s like he’s a starving man at a buffet, not knowing where to dive in first because it’s been so long since he’s had anything at all.
But then his eyes linger on my scars, and his hand reaches out, trembling a bit as he starts to touch me.
The first soft brush of his fingertips to my skin makes my breath hitch, every atom in my body focused on that tiny area. It feels so good. His hands are warm, and he trails his fingers along the edges of my scars, his gaze never wavering as he watches their progress.
He dips his fingers along the whirls and ridges of the worst of the scarring, and even though the nerves are a bit damaged there, the sensation is enough to have me panting and arching against the ropes.
I let him continue in silence for a while, but then I can’t keep the words inside anymore.
“Do you… do you remember when you watched me in my room?” I whisper, and his eyes flick to my face. “When you told me to touch my scars for you, and I did?”
He nods, swallowing hard. “I remember.”
“I remember wishing you were there. It was so hot over the cameras, listening to you telling me what to do. But I wished you were there to touch me yourself. To know how good it made me feel to be wanted by you like that.”
“Like what?” His voice is ragged around the edges, and I can tell he’s already starting to let some of his inner control slip.
Good.
“You’re not turned off by my scars. You think they’re beautiful. No one has ever looked at me quite like you, and I’ve had so many fantasies about what it would be like to have your hands on me. Just like this.”
Vic groans, closing his eyes for a second. They pop open almost immediately, like he doesn’t want to miss a second of this.
His touches slowly become less tentative and more possessive. He stops skimming his hands over me and lets them roam freely, touching me with intent. His palms slide over my sides and up to my chest, and when he gropes my breasts, I moan his name, arching under him.
It feels so good, and it’s everything I’ve ever wanted from him. It’s nothing the others haven’t already done, but this is new for Vic, who until now has only let himself look.
This is the first time he’s ever touched my chest. The first time his fingers have pinched and tweaked at my nipples, and the pleasure from seeing him affected by it starts to build and grow inside me.
I’m panting before I know it, my pussy soaking wet. My body is buzzing from all of this, inviting more, drinking it up like I can’t get enough.
Honestly, I can’t.
Just as much as he’s bingeing on me, I’m bingeing on him, addicted to his touch already.
“Please,” I moan, my voice husky. “Fuck, that feels so good.”
“I wanted to do this from the first minute I saw you,” he breathes, and I know he’s not lying. I don’t think he could lie right now.
He drags his hands down my stomach and over my thighs, finding the scarring there and mapping it with his fingers.
He dips between my legs, bypassing my aching pussy but stroking the soft skin of my inner thigh.
I have to bite down hard on my lip to keep from begging him for more.
I told him he could be in charge of this, and I want it to be his decision, but god, having him so close to my clit is only making it throb harder.
My toes are curling, my legs shaking with the effort of trying to stay still, and when Vic finally slides one finger up my slit, gathering my wetness before brushing over the little bundle of nerves at the top, it’s more than I can take.
“Ahhh!” I cry out, my arms jerking against the restraints as an orgasm breaks through me like a bolt of lightning.