Chapter 14 #3
I lose all humour in an instant. “That you’re a nightmare dressed like a daydream.”
“That’s it,” he growls and in one swift move, he throws me over his shoulder. “You’re going to pay for this, Treacle.”
“Gareth!” I shriek, my hands fumbling to not drop my purse as I grapple for purchase on his back. “Put me down!”
“No,” he replies flatly and smacks me hard on the ass. “You’ve been a bad girl.”
“Gareth!” I squeal with laughter, then smack him on the ass right back just as Vi and Leslie come out of the bathroom and stare down the hallway at us.
“Vi, talk some sense into your brother!” I beg, pushing my hair away from my face so I can see them more clearly.
Gareth pauses and turns to lay eyes on his sister. “Vi, I’ll be dealing with you later. I don’t care if it’s your wedding day or not.”
“What did I do?” she asks, her eyes wide and wondering.
“You told her I am a Swiftie!” he growls and swerves back to head toward the staircase that leads to the club exit.
“I never called you a Swiftie!” Vi laughs as she runs after us, yelling loud enough for their brothers to hear from their spots on the sofas.
“Gareth’s secret is out,” Tanner mumbles and stretches his arms over the back of the sofa like it’s a normal Tuesday.
“It wasn’t a well-kept secret, was it?” Camden asks, completely serious.
“I never told a soul!” Booker exclaims, clearly taking this way more seriously than the rest of us.
Vi rushes up to stop her brother at the steps. “I swear, Gareth. I only told her you warm up to Taylor Swift. What’s the big deal?”
He pauses and suddenly decides to lower me to the floor, but I can’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. He points a finger at his sister’s face. “Who else have you told?”
“No one!” she retorts and her cheeks instantly flame red. Holy shit, Vi is a bad liar. “A few people.”
“Who?”
“Just…like…everyone here, pretty much.”
Gareth’s face distorts in anger as he visibly grows taller in front of her.
Vi winces and looks to her other brothers for help, but they’re now on one sofa, playfully eating pretend popcorn and enjoying the show.
Tanner actually passes an invisible bag to Booker and Booker refuses. It’s quite a sight.
“Gareth,” I state his name calmly and move to step in between him and Vi. “Don’t get mad at your sister. I was probably going to find out eventually, right?”
He pins me with an unimpressed look. “I would have taken that to my grave.”
He’s full-on pouting as he leans against the railing and ignores his sister’s pleading. How can a huge, beast of a man being Taylor Swift’s number one fan be this freaking sexy?
I gesture with my head for Vi to go join the others.
I have a feeling I know exactly what will calm Gareth down.
I reach up and run my nails along his shoulders in hard, smooth strokes while leaning in and whispering in his ear, “What if I told you I have something in my bag that you can use on me tonight that will get you your man card back really quick?”
He frowns down at me as I carefully open my bag to show him what’s inside. His brows lift. “I’d say you love this game even more than I do.”
I frown back at him, then it dawns on me. “Those are Taylor Swift lyrics, aren’t they?”
A smile splits across his face. “Now who’s the Swiftie?” And in one swift move, my manly Swiftie grabs my hand and hauls me out of the club.
Twenty minutes later, Taylor Swift is the absolute last thing on my mind as I lie spread out on the bed, completely naked. My hands are cuffed to a metal headboard and my legs squirm against each other as I wait impatiently for Gareth to come out of the bathroom.
He stripped me down to nothing and handcuffed me to the centre railing at the head of the bed while he remained fully clothed. He was definitely punishing me and, damn, it felt exciting. But now he’s taking so long in the bathroom, I wonder if he’s getting cold feet.
When he walks out shirtless and barefoot but still in his jeans, I instantly notice his determined face from earlier has vanished.
“Gareth, what’s wrong?” I ask, lifting my head off the pillow to look at him.
“I’m not sure I can do this, Sloan.” He swallows slowly, his eyes drifting down my body with a forlorn look on his face.
I smile playfully. “Do what? We haven’t done anything yet.”
He drags his teeth over his lower lip and replies, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
“What if I do?”
I exhale and spread my legs. “Then I’ll tell you to stop.”
The dubious look on his face shows me that he’s still not convinced, but the heat in his eyes as he stares at my centre is at odds with that expression.
An idea comes to mind that might help him feel more comfortable. “Look in my purse. There’s a feather that I think Leslie shoved in there at the club.”
“A feather?” he asks, his tone curious as he finds my bag and pulls out a black feather that’s attached to a black rubber stick.
“Start with that,” I urge. “Do something small, then you’ll feel brave enough to try more. It’s similar to what I did with you when I measured you for a suit.”
“You were a fucking goddess that night,” he replies as he walks toward me. He trails the feather over the top of my foot, and I instantly recoil with a sharp inhale.
His eyes flash up to mine. “Do you like that?”
I nod, goosebumps erupting all over my body as my legs close and rub together with need.
Feeling encouraged, he gradually moves the feather up over my knee and stops at my hip. “How about that?”
I groan softly, my eyes closing because watching him watch me is another form of torture, and I can only handle one thing right now.
“Eyes on me, Treacle,” he husks, his voice deep and gravelly.
I open them and stare up at him. The light hair on his chest, the lines of his hips, the way his jeans hang low around them. Good God, he’s sexy.
“I want to hear words from your lips,” he adds, his tone stronger as he moves the feather over top of my belly and traces a circle around my navel.
I pin him with a determined look. “I like it.”
He nods, his hazel eyes darkening on mine. “Where do you want me to touch you next?”
I bite my lip and reply, “My nipples.”
He smiles an oh-so sexy smile and moves the feather around both of my breasts, his eyes fierce on my nubs as they harden beneath his touch. “Would you like my mouth on your nipples instead?”
“Yes, please,” I moan, my voice breathy as my entire body trembles for a lot freaking more.
The bed dips as he kneels beside me and crouches over to pull my left nipple into his mouth. He releases it with an audible pop. “Do you like it when I bite your nipples, Tre?”
“Oh my God, yes,” I moan, my ass grinding into the bed as I fight the restraint of the cuffs. I ache so damn bad to score my nails over his bare back, but watching him come alive like this is its own form of aphrodisiac.
He moves over to my other nipple and bites down gently. I cry out when his teeth pull back and scrape along my flesh.
“Are you okay?” he asks quietly, looking up at me.
“Yes, Gareth,” I answer, a nearly painful need pooling between my legs.
He stares deep into my eyes as he moves the feather down between my legs. With a gentle stroke up my inner thigh, he hits my sensitive nerve bundles. I buck up off the bed so high, my belly touches his chest. He growls as he watches me writhe beneath him.
“Jesus Christ, I can smell how much you want me, Sloan.” His voice is guttural, needy, and wanting. He’s overwhelmed just as I was the first time I took control of him in his closet.
“I want you so badly,” I moan.
“How do you want me?”
“I want you inside of me.”
“What do you want me to do inside of you?” he asks, tickling my clit with the feather until I’m desperate to scream.
“I want you to make me come!” I exclaim.
He moves the feather faster over me and states in a commanding voice, “Say please.”
“Please. God, Gareth, please make me come.”
Within seconds, he’s tossed the feather and is kneeling between my legs. He rolls me over onto my belly, crisscrossing my cuffed wrists above my head so that I can no longer bend my arms or raise my head.
“I’m going to spank you now, Sloan, because you were a bad girl earlier.”
“Oh my God,” I groan loudly into the pillow.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes, please,” I cry out.
“Good girl. Tell me if it gets too hard, understand?”
I nod.
He reaches around and pinches my clit without warning, causing fireworks to explode behind my closed eyelids. His voice is firm when he demands, “Words, Treacle. I need to hear you say it.”
“Yes, Gareth, spank me,” I reply, my voice taking on a new tenor I’ve never heard before. “I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough.”
He releases my clit and rubs his hand up and down my spine, stopping to palm my ass cheek in his big, meaty hand. Then he crooks his hands under my hips and props me up on my knees.
“God, you have a beautiful arse,” he growls before giving it a light smack.
My moan is soft as I breathe out, “More.”
“More?” he asks, desire and amusement in his voice as he pulls his hand back and slaps me again.
“Yes,” I cry out, feeling the sting this time and nearly coming apart at the seams when all the blood rushes to my centre. “More, Gareth, baby. Please.”
I hear him undo his jeans, then his erection suddenly drags against my slit just as his hand collides with my backside again. This time, the burn is harsher, his touch swifter. I feel myself growing wetter and wetter.
“Do you want more?”
“I want you,” I reply, pressing my backside against his shaft and desperately rubbing myself on him.
“My hands or my cock, Treacle?”
“Your cock,” I cry, my voice ripped from my throat as he impales me with his erection, filling me completely.
He stills inside of me and squeezes both of my ass cheeks in a punishing hold. “You like that?”
“Yes,” I moan, rocking my ass against him.
“You want me to move?”
“Yes!”