Chapter 12
TWELVE
RYE
This night is better than I imagined.
Decadent. Sinful.
Vengeful.
Leaning on the glass door leading out to the patio, the party plays out in front of me. The wax scene on the dining table. The foursome tangled on the shaggy rug. The quarterback with two girls on leashes. All in Hannah’s domain.
I won.
I’ll admit I didn’t think this would be as good as getting the keys to her mansion. But seeing her show up with that look on her face? That makes this all the more worth it.
Marisol approaches me in that leather mini dress I swore I’ve seen Hannah in before. “Rye, why don’t you show me how some of this stuff works?” She walks her fingers up my chest. “I got arrested for being a bad, bad girl.”
I take her hand off me. “Go away.”
Her forehead wrinkles. “But I thought—”
“You thought wrong.”
She opens her mouth to speak again, but Gray cuts between us in a mesh top and matching shorts. “Marisol, why don’t you give us a moment, beautiful?”
Her eyes bounce between us. Knowing better than to push it, she flips her hair, turning towards the bar. “I’ll see you both later.”
Gray laughs, filling my glass from a bottle of Macallan. “It’s true, isn’t it?” My eyes move to him, but I don’t answer. Mostly because I don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about. “You and Hannah? I’ve seen a dozen girls talk to you tonight, and you’ve told them all to fuck off.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“Dude, you’re throwing a sex party. Everyone’s in the mood.”
Before I can answer, my eyes land on something that doesn’t quite fit into said ‘sex party.'
A smirk comes to my lips, her fists so tight I can see her white knuckles from here. She stands at the entrance to the living room, the main area of my spectacle. Those honey-glazed eyes narrow on mine, and she looks fucking furious.
Downing my glass, I’m ready for round two.
Bring it, Alfonso.
Gray follows my gaze, another laugh escaping him. “Oh, you’re fucked, Rowen.” He clinks his bottle to my glass before he turns away, approaching the closest girl. But he’s mistaken. I'm not the one about to get fucked.
“Rye!” Hannah’s voice is inaudible over the bumping music, but I see the way her lips move when she screams my name.
Plump. Full. Glossy. They look as sticky as her eyes as she makes her way through the room.
She doesn’t care who watches as she slinks between bodies.
She doesn’t care about the wild scenes she’s passing either.
As she gets closer, she barks my name again. This time, I hear her. “Ryung!”
Am I loaded as hell? Or do I like the way she snips my name?
The room gets warmer when she stands in front of me, those cheeks a cherry red. “Shut. It. Down.” Her voice is stern. Rigid and commanding.
“We went through this.” My eyes rake her frame. The girls here are all in their skimpiest outfits, while Hannah, in her t-shirt and shorts, makes something in my pants twitch. “Or did you want another excuse to see me?”
“Your ego is way bigger than you say your dick is.” She steps closer. “Cut it out. Now.” She doesn’t like it when I let out a chuckle, her brows lowering. She pokes at my chest, a sharpness exploding with each one. “Your makeshift brothel fucked up my interview with IOU.”
“Don’t blame me for your failures.”
“It wasn’t a failure until you couldn't keep your whores to yourself." She’s had some champagne, I can smell it on her breath. "Your guests slammed into my room for a threesome.”
“You jealous?” Her mouth flattens as I take another sip.
“We can have one of our own, but you know the other guy won’t make you shake like I do.
He won’t make you drip down his fingers until you’re begging for mercy.
He won’t own that prissy wet cunt until you lose all control.
” My finger comes to her flustered cheek, her warmth shooting up my arm before she slaps it away.
“I don’t want anything with anyone who fucks with my future.” She takes a step back, that scowl hardening. “I definitely don’t want anything with you.”
I move an inch closer, looking down at her. “Hannah, if a little background noise was all it took for you to lose that interview, you should reconsider your skills.”
“Rye, if you don’t cut this shit out, I’ll—”
“You’ll what, Hannah?” I chuckle again. She still believes she can order me around like one of her minions. “What would you do?” Proving I do what I want, my hand comes behind her ass, pulling her against me.
She gasps, her lips inches away from mine. She doesn't push me away, and I can feel the way her heart pounds against my chest.
I’m playing with fire, my lips grazing her cheek when I move my head to her ear. “You’re the one breaking the rules coming down here in an outfit outside the dress code.”
“Fuck your dress code,” she spits, a shake still in her voice. “It’s my house.”
“It’s my party.”
“You mean your frat boy fever dream?”
“Are you having a fever right now?” My lips hover above her collar, right where I used that glass at the gallery. “You’re shaking, Hannah.”
“Fuck you.” Her hands come to my chest, and the push she gives me doesn’t feel like the fight she has in her words.
Her eyes flick around the room, mine follow.
We’ve become the centre of attention with our heated exchange.
She pushes harder this time, and I let go, her feet stumbling back when I do.
She straightens up, refusing to look defeated.
“Fuck this. I’m cutting the power.” She turns to walk away before my hand wraps around her wrist.
“We’re not done, Alfonso.” She tugs, but I don’t let go.
Her head whips back, her chin over her shoulder as her eyes narrow. “Why? Are you about to lecture me on your ‘rules’? Give me fashion advice on latex?”
“Rules are rules. You broke them. I can’t let you get away with it.” Signalling the DJ at the far end of the living space, the music cuts. If eyes weren’t on us before, they are now.
“You’re joking.” Hannah laughs, looking around the room.
“Your attention, everyone.” With a step back, I address the crowd, finally releasing Hannah. “Crimson made it very clear there would be punishments if rules weren’t followed. Turns out, someone here didn’t get the memo.”
“You all know you’re in my house, right?” She glares at a couple of guests who giggle, but that’s not enough.
“Bring me the throne.” Gray and a guy from the team immediately grab the black velvet chair I’ve sat on most of the night. They push it right behind her as I approach her. She gasps when my hands land on her shoulder, then I push her down. “Sit.”
My boys take the leather straps hanging on each side and tie her wrists to the arms of the chair. “All this to get me to stay at your stupid party?”
“No.” Pulling the thick belt off my robe, I can see the stillness in her chest as her eyes drop to my abs. My smirk spreads. “All this to teach you a lesson.”
“What lesson is that? That you’re delusional?” I don’t miss the shake in her voice when I crouch in front of her. My hand wraps around one ankle, pulling it to one side of the throne before securing it with the leather strap. Then the other. “Or completely psychotic?”
“You still think you have control over me.” I drag my finger up her leg, already sticky with sweat, before looping the belt around her hips in a figure-eight. I make one pass across her lower belly, then I pass it underneath her. Right between her thighs. “Face it, Hannah. Control is long gone.”
Hannah
My body buzzes as I try to control my shaky breaths.
My heartbeat is too quick, my palms too sweaty as everyone watches Rye tie me to this chair.
Hate is an understatement. I despise how his muscular body looks in damn near nothing, while I look like a tortured prisoner.
Bringing my eyes to his, I find my words, saying them loud enough so that everyone can hear.
“You’re going through a hell of a lot to prove you’re in control, aren’t you?
” Tugging on the restraints, I test their strength.
There’s a chance I can get out of them if I pull enough, but I’m not giving him the satisfaction of a struggle.
Not in front of everyone. A queen stays calm.
Collected. So I’ll use another weapon. My mouth.
“What? Can’t handle me so you have to tie me up? ”
“Ladies, gentlemen, heathens of all genders.” He ignores me, speaking to the crowd as he moves behind me. His fingers trail up each arm, and I ignore the goosebumps it brings. “Hannah Alfonso thinks she can walk in here and disobey the rules.”
Before I can open my mouth to respond, my hips jolt forward as he pulls that belt he placed between my legs, right against my centre. Right against that spot he knows drives me crazy.
How the hell is he so precise?
I whip my head back, but with one hand, he keeps me facing the growing crowd.
“You want attention, don’t you?” His voice lands against my ear.
Low. Menacing. Intoxicating. These words aren’t for his guests.
They’re only for me. I hate how I squeeze my thighs in response, but that only makes his ‘punishment’ feel better.
“Bask in it.” He pulls the belt again, a gasp escaping me.
“Chin up. A queen sits tall, doesn’t she? ”
Another tug on the belt, and I wish I’d worn thicker pants.
The fabric of my thin, cotton shorts pools around it, only giving him more exposure.
My mouth falls open, a soft moan escaping as he works that belt against my clit in a way that feels like magic.
In a way that makes my core tense and my toes curl.
Each tug makes my hips move. Each tug fuels the burning fire between my legs.
It feels incredible, but everyone can see how much my body betrays me.
How much I want this when I’m not supposed to.
His words land against my cheek. “Not so in control now, are we?” I can’t deny it. He loosens and tightens his belt like a sadistic metronome. Every time I get a second to breathe, he pulls it again. “She looks like she’s enjoying her punishment a little too much. Doesn’t she?”
“Y-you j-just—” I hate the way my words stutter out. I’m only proving his point. I’m not in charge. Not right now. I try using my words again. “Y-you just like—”
“I like seeing you crumble for me.” He brings his lips against my ear again, his fingers landing on either side of my nipple.
What's worse than Rye making me stutter in front of half the school? Half the school seeing how hard he makes my nipples. He gives one a tight squeeze as he pulls the rope again. His touch makes me hiss, but the contrast of the belt against my clit makes me rock my hips harder.
“Careful, Kitten, silk shows when you’re wet.”
And fuck, I really am. I’m fighting the urge to rock my hips harder, every pull feeling like a fan to the flames inside me.
Folding my lips in, I hide my moans. But I’m not hiding much.
He makes me squirm, my skin wet with sweat while playing this degrading game of Red Light, Green Light.
Closing my eyes doesn’t stop the whispers and giggles I hear around the room.
And it only makes his voice in my ear louder.
“Go on, tell them you’re still in charge.” Shaking my head only gets him to pull harder, faster. He’s pushing me to the edge while hardly touching me. Then he stops tugging. “Say it.”
It’s only then that I realize how fast my heart beats and how sweaty my palms are, my fists clenched against the throne’s arms. I want more.
I can feel my clit pulsing with my heart, the knot in my stomach so tight it’s painful.
I look weak. I know it. So I open my eyes, finding my words.
“I’m in charge.” But they’re as weak and shaky as I am on this 'throne. '
“Doesn’t sound like she is, does it?” Rye addresses the crowd again.
“She gives it up to me so easily, doesn’t she?
” He tugs that belt firmer, like he's starting a lawnmower. My hips move with his rhythm, our audience fading around me. “You’re right there, aren’t you, Kitten?
” His words land against my ear again, low and growling, while I writhe against a piece of fucking silk. “Say it.”
“I’m in—oh fuck.” He starts pulling the fabric again and—oh god. Oh fucking god.
“Look at our queen, begging for it. Greedy girl,” he chides to the crowd, and I can’t stop moving my hips no matter how hard I try.
My cheeks flush, my back arching against the chair, the entire world collapsing on me.
Then it all stops. “Unh, unh. You don’t get to come.
Not until I say so. Not until everyone knows who owns you.
” His words land right in my ear again, his voice thundering through me. “You don’t get to come until I say so.”
Then he fucking walks away.
He leaves me panting through my nose, a pulse between my legs and his belt soaked between my thighs. The world comes back in one big rush, like at the gallery.
Students smirk and giggle. Some even look downright jealous while I’m frozen in embarrassment.
Humiliation.
And I’m still fucking wet.
It feels like forever before Gray unstraps me, a smirk on his face.
Once I'm free, all I can do is rise from this throne, my shaky legs carrying me to where he stands by the bar. And, I hope everyone sees it when my palm flies across his face.