Chapter 22 #2
He doesn’t respond in pain or surprise. He just chuckles, his hand landing around my throat.
“Bad idea, Kitten.” The way he has me against this tree, firmly under his grasp, could mean major damage to my regrowing reputation.
But fire scorches through me when he glares into my eyes.
“Remember when I said you’ll need to remember that safe word because you’d piss me off again?
” He brings his lips to my ears, his voice growling through me.
“You just did.” With his free hand, he unbuckles his belt, pulling it through the loop of his slacks.
“Oh, did someone say ‘no’ to a Crown?” I mock. “What a hard time you must be—”
A gasp escapes me when he tugs hard on my wrist, spinning me around until my chest slams against the tree. He holds my wrist tighter and higher above me, stretching my arms up in a way that sends an annoying pain down to my shoulders.
“You so mad you’re hurting me?” My whisper is harsh, still super aware that anyone could walk by.
“If you didn’t want to be punished, you shouldn't be such a fucking brat.” He reaches under me, pulling my hips out. He pushes his knee between my legs, spreading them before a whoosh of air lands on my ass. “Go ahead, Hannah, wave the white flag.”
“Fuck you,” I spit.
Slap!
My eyes widen when the leather of his belt lands against my ass. “Rye!” A sting vibrates from my skin to my chest as he chuckles. His hand comes to my ass next, rubbing it in a way that immediately soothes the pain.
Then he does it again.
Slap!
I gasp again, that sting charging from my ass to the spot between my legs.
Slap!
Then another. He soothes the burn with his hand, but it’s already turned into pleasure, a sigh escaping me.
He yanks on my hair, his fingers trailing all the way down until he grazes my exposed slit. He chuckles. This is twisted, but he’s making me wet, and he knows it. Should I want his fingers inside me like this? No. But I do, so badly my ass pushes towards him.
“No, no, you don’t get my fingers,” he growls, looping his belt around my left thigh. He yanks it up, a roll of waves flowing through me when it presses right against my clit. “If this is about control, I’ll remind you who has it.”
“You don’t get to—ahh, fuck.” He tugs on his belt again. It slides against my clit, my fists clenching. It’s what he did at the Crimson party, except this time, it’s leather. Firmer. Harder.
“What was that?” He chides in my ear, pulling his belt again.
He has a rhythm now, my body rocking back against it.
Another moan escapes me as my arms give in to his hold.
“Quiet, Kitten, your friends might hear you.” He pulls harder, making it easy not to care about how close everyone is.
My thighs squeeze around the leather, but it only makes the sensation better as it presses harder against my clit.
I move my hips faster, the feeling of his belt soothing the worries in my mind.
This feels too good to care about anything else.
“What’s the matter, Hannah? Though I didn't control you.”
“You don’t!” I moan my words, and if he keeps rocking his belt against my clit like that, I won’t last. My knees shake with his rhythm, my thighs clenching and releasing. It makes my head spin. “You don’t!”
“Look at you, grinding on leather like a needy slut for me.” He tugs hard on that last one, my body screaming for release as my toes curl in my heels.
“If I can make you do this, I can make you do so much more.” Then he stops.
Right when I’m there. “Think about that the next time you want to be a brat.” My heavy breathing startles me as I force my legs to stand.
When I look at him, belt in his hand, he plasters that stupid fucking smirk on his face.
“Let’s talk and maybe then, I’ll let you come on my cock like a good girl. ”
“Fuck you.” Adjusting my skirt, I don’t care how my hair looks or how flushed my cheeks are when I walk away, my name still on his lips.
“Ma?” The door creaks closed behind me as I step foot into our foyer.
It’s been a while since I spent the night at home. Not since my folks abandoned me. Recent evenings either involved Rye and me in some sinful entanglement. Or my posse at Sun House, soaking up cocktails and gossip. Things feel normal. Almost.
It used to be “Hey, Hannah, can we come to your lake house?” or “Hey, Hannah, can we go to your father’s villa for a weekend in Cabo?”
Now I only get questions about The Crowns and where the next party will be.
It makes it hard to be sure that I’m not feeding into the narrative that Rye does indeed own me.
It sure felt that way when I almost came against the tree on campus.
If anyone saw, it would mean more questions about us.
More questions that involve him. Not me.
He didn’t put me in my position as queen.
I did. And everyone forgot, including him.
My phone buzzes in my hand as I slip off my heels.
Ryung: you liked being punished, dont you?
I’ve ignored him all day. He needs to know he doesn’t control me.
Then why did you almost come on his belt?
Because he’s a psychopath.
You love it.
I hate him.
I almost felt bad about what happened with Coach Winslow. But outside of the excruciatingly hot sex we have, he’s still insufferable.
My phone buzzes again, and I hang on to the little power it gives me.
Ryung: answer me or expect more consequences
My stomach twists thinking about what that means. Was it hot as hell when Rye dominated me against a tree? Yes. But I can’t keep compromising myself for hot sex. For him.
“Ma!” I call again, the only reason I’ve returned to this mansion made of thorns.
I still haven't seen Krystal on campus, and while it worries me, she has her brother. I’m all my mother has.
“She’s in the solarium,” Carrie says, coming from the kitchen with a sponge in her hand. After thanking her, I move to the solarium as my phone vibrates again.
Ryung: tick-tock, Hannah
Was choosing to work with him a bad idea? I warned him about the documents inside that email. Why is he being such a pain?
With a sense of normalcy back on campus, it got me thinking. If I’m honest with my mom about what I know, instead of being so scared to show her, we can have each other’s backs. We can be a powerhouse without the men around us.
“Miss Hannah, wait!” Carrie calls as I'm close to the room. But it’s too late.
When I step into the stone and glass space, my mom’s face hides under a large Valentino hat, a copy of Vanity Fair in her hands.
Scanning the room filled with plants, books, a piano, and stone sculptures, I don’t see any signs of my father.
“Where is he?” I ask.
My mom lowers the magazine upon hearing my voice.
Holy shit.
My hands come to my face.
“Ma!” Her lip is swollen a bandage over her nose. She can hardly open her left eye, bruised and purple. It’s the worst I’ve seen. “What the hell did he—”
“You should be ashamed of yourself, Hannah,” she says, reaching for the cigarette in the gold tray next to her. “How could you showcase our family in that way?”
“Ma, where is he?” Approaching her gives me a better view of her scars. They're fresh and irritated, red marks dotting her otherwise smooth face. “You can’t keep taking this.”
“You can’t keep disgracing this family.”
“You sound like him.” My eyes blur, staring at the state he left her in. “He’s not on our side.”
“You’re not on my side.” My brows knit at her response. “Not while you're parading around like a two-cent whore.” She points her cigarette at my outfit. “Have some goddamn decorum. Your father—”
“Left your daughter on an island!” I yell. My mind flashes back to the concern on Ember's face. Hell, even the Crowns looked horrified when they heard what my father did. “Don’t let him get away with that. Please.”
My mother hauls back on her cigarette. “You made it out fine.”
“And I’m afraid you won’t.” My voice cracks as I take her hand, lowering to my knees. I’m not one to beg, but if I’m going to ditch working with The Crowns, I need my mother. “Listen, we have to work together.”
“Did you fuck the Rowen boy?”
My head jerks back. “Wh-what?”
She looks down at me, her mouth twisting. “If the only way you know how to get ahead is with your open legs, you’re as weak as I thought.”
“No,” I spit, my cheeks on fire. “I’m not the one fucking around on my family!”
Slap!
A sting comes to my cheek. My hand comes to my face.
My mother scowls. “You are. If you cared about me, you’d smarten the hell up.” Her voice is too much to handle as I stand tall. Staring at her, I wait for her to say something comforting. To come to her senses. But she just goes back to her magazine.
When I leave the room, I close the door behind me before my back collapses against it. My eyes fill with tears, one settling on my cheek before rolling to the floor.
My childhood spins through my head. We were happy once. Weren’t we?
My phone vibrates in my hand again.
Ryung: Last chance or deal’s off. Ember’s gallery. Tomorrow. Midnight. Dress code in effect