36. Chapter 35
Chapter 35
Rayne
I bite my lip and look away from River, not wanting to answer. A flush of shame creeps up my neck as I realize he's right–a part of me did hesitate to eat the cupcake he gave me because of my insecurities about my body. The memory of wanting so badly to indulge but holding back out of misplaced guilt, makes me cringe inwardly.
River chuckles, the sound low and wicked. His fingers brush my chin, gently urging me to meet his gaze again. His eyes dance with mischief as he asks, "You know what's good about being here on official business?"
Before I can respond, he lets go of me but gently takes one of my hands. His other hand reaches behind him, and when it comes back into view, my breath catches. Dangling from his fingers is a set of handcuffs, the metal gleaming in the late afternoon light.
"These," River purrs, his voice dripping with sin. With a swift, practiced motion, he snaps one cuff around my wrist. The metal is cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the heat building inside me. The weight of it is unfamiliar, yet strangely thrilling. I can feel my pulse quickening, a mix of anticipation and nervousness coursing through my veins.
River's eyes darken as he watches my reaction, his pupils dilating with desire. "Oh, little Rayne," he purrs, tugging gently on the cuffs. "Do you like being bound?"
I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. My throat feels dry, my tongue heavy in my mouth. River's gaze is intense, his blue eyes seeming to see right through me, reading every unspoken desire written on my skin.
Without breaking eye contact, River leads me across the studio. When we reach the foot of the bed, River's voice drops to a low, commanding tone. "Raise your arms for me, little Rayne."
Without hesitation, I comply. My arms lift above my head, the loose fabric of my dress shifting with the movement. I can feel my breasts straining against the thin material, my nipples hardening into tight peaks. River's eyes rake over my body, drinking in every detail.
His eyes gleam with wicked intent as he steps closer, his body radiating heat. His fingers trail up my arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The touch is feather-light, almost reverent, as if he's mapping every inch of my skin. I shiver involuntarily, my body arching towards him, seeking more contact.
He leans in, his breath hot against my ear as he whispers, "You're so beautiful like this, Rayne. All flushed and trembling for me." His lips brush the sensitive spot just below my ear, and I have to bite back a moan.
His touch is maddening, simultaneously too much and not enough. I'm so lost in the sensations that I barely register the soft clink of metal.
Suddenly, there's a cool pressure around my other wrist. My eyes fly open—when had I closed them?—just in time to see River securing the second cuff to my other wrist, having hooked it over one of the bars of the canopy bed. The realization hits me a moment too late as I instinctively tug against the restraints.
The metal is unyielding, cold and hard against my skin. The cuffs are snug but not tight, allowing just enough movement to tease but not enough to escape. I test them again, feeling the solid weight of the metal, the way it restricts my movements.
River grins at me, his expression a mix of wickedness and unbridled glee. It's the kind of smile that would make most people take a step back, a primal part of their brain recognizing the predator before them. But I'm not most people. I feel an answering thrill of excitement race through me, my body responding to the dangerous edge in his eyes.
I give him a droll look, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite the heat pooling low in my belly. "You know," I say, my voice huskier than I intended, "I have leather cuffs over there." I motion with my head towards the far wall, where the St. Andrew's cross stands proudly alongside an array of other BDSM equipment. The leather cuffs in question hang from a hook nearby, their soft black surface a stark contrast to the cold metal currently encircling my wrists.
River's eyes follow my gesture, his grin widening impossibly further. His gaze lingers on the cross, and I can almost see the wheels turning in his mind, no doubt imagining all the delicious scenarios we could explore with that particular piece of equipment. When he turns back to me, his eyes are dark with desire, pupils blown wide.
He chuckles, the sound low and wicked. "Oh, of course I know about those lovely leather cuffs, sweetheart," he purrs, his voice a seductive rumble that sends shivers down my spine. "But these," he taps the metal cuffs with one long finger, "were convenient. And every time I look at them from now on I will be able to picture you just like this. Besides, you might struggle a bit less against them. Though we will definitely be playing with those leather ones another time. I have so many delicious ideas for them."
He steps back, his gaze raking over my restrained form with obvious appreciation. Then he turns and walks away. I watch, transfixed, as he retrieves the white box and coffee cup from where he left them earlier.
River returns, his eyes never leaving mine as he approaches. The air between us feels charged, crackling with tension. He stops just inches from me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. My breath catches in my throat as he lifts the coffee cup to my lips. The rich aroma of caramel latte fills my senses, mingling with River's own intoxicating scent.
"Drink," he growls, his voice low and commanding. Before I can fully process what's happening, the first drops of liquid touch my tongue. The latte has cooled to a comfortable temperature, no longer scalding but still holding a pleasant warmth.
The sweetness of caramel mingles with the bitter notes of espresso, creating a perfect balance. I close my eyes, savoring the flavors as River carefully tips the cup, allowing me to drink.
As I swallow, I feel a drop escape the corner of my mouth, trailing slowly down my chin. Before I can react, River's thumb is there, catching the errant liquid. His touch lingers, the pad of his thumb tracing the curve of my lower lip with agonizing slowness as he pulls the cup away. When I open my eyes, his gaze is fixed on my mouth.
He slowly lowers the coffee cup, setting it gently on the hardwood floor beside us. The soft thud as it meets the ground seems amplified in the charged silence of the room.
With a flourish, he lifts the lid on the white box, revealing the treasure within. My breath catches at the sight of the apple crumble cupcake nestled in its paper wrapper. The cake itself is a rich, golden brown, studded with chunks of tender apple and crowned with a generous swirl of cream cheese frosting. A dusting of cinnamon-sugar crumble adorns the top, glittering like edible jewels in the late afternoon light.
The aroma wafts up, an intoxicating blend of warm spices, tart apple, and sweet vanilla. It's a scent that speaks of comfort, of indulgence, of moments stolen from the rush of everyday life. My mouth waters involuntarily, and I feel a pang of regret for not enjoying the one he'd given me the other day.
River's voice breaks through my reverie, tinged with a mix of amusement and something darker. "Since you didn't eat the other one," he purrs, his blue eyes locked on mine, "I got you a fresh one. This time, you're going to eat it."
There's no room for argument in his tone. It's not a suggestion, but a command.
His finger dips into the luscious cream cheese frosting, coming away with a generous dollop. Slowly, teasingly, he brings it to my lips. Without breaking eye contact, I dart my tongue out, licking the frosting from his skin. The sweet, tangy flavor explodes on my tongue, a perfect balance of cream cheese and vanilla. River hums appreciatively, his eyes darkening as he watches my tongue swirl around his finger.
"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice husky. He breaks off a small piece of the cupcake, holding it to my lips. Without being told, I part them, allowing him to press the morsel between them.
As he feeds me another bite, River's voice drops lower, taking on a more serious tone. "I ended up in foster care when I was eleven," he begins, his eyes distant for a moment before refocusing on me. "My parents... well, let's just say they weren't fit to raise a goldfish, let alone a child."
He breaks off more cupcake, this time smearing it with frosting before bringing it to my lips. As I take the bite, a dollop of frosting escapes, clinging to the corner of my mouth. River leans in, his tongue darting out to lick it away. The heat of his mouth against my skin sends a shiver down my spine.
His fingers trail down my neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, are now dark and serious as he continues his story.
"My parents," he says, his voice low and controlled, "were addicts. Heroin, mostly, but they'd take anything they could get their hands on." He breaks off another piece of cupcake, once again dragging it through the frosting before bringing it to my lips. As I take the bite, he leans in, his tongue darting out to catch a stray crumb at the corner of my mouth.
"They owed money to their dealer," River continues, his fingers tracing abstract patterns on my collarbone. "A lot of money. And one day, when they couldn't pay..." He pauses, his jaw clenching. "They decided I was worth enough to cover their debt."
My heart clenches at his words, a wave of sympathy and anger washing over me. I want to reach out, to comfort him, but the handcuffs prevent me from moving. River seems to sense my distress, because he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.
"Don't worry, little Rayne," he murmurs against my skin. "It has a happy ending. Well, for me at least." His trademark wicked grin returns, though there's still a hint of darkness in his eyes. "The dealer came to collect. My parents were too high to put up much of a fight. I remember my mother's vacant stare as the man dragged me out of our dingy apartment. I kicked and screamed, but no one came to help."
He breaks off another piece of cupcake, holding it to my lips. As I take the bite, his thumb brushes my lower lip, lingering there. "The dealer took me to this abandoned warehouse. It was cold and damp. It smelled like mold and despair. There were other kids there, all looking as terrified as I felt."
River's hand trails down my neck again, his touch feather-light. "I quickly realized what was going to happen to us. The other kids, they were resigned to their fate. But not me. I refused to be a victim."
His eyes meet mine, and I see a flash of that dangerous edge that lurks beneath his cheerful exterior. "When one of the men came for me, I was ready. I'd found a rusty nail in a pile of debris. As he reached for me, I struck. Right in the eye."
River's grin is feral now, all sharp edges and dark satisfaction. "The screams were music to my ears. In the chaos that followed, I managed to escape. Ran until my lungs burned and my legs gave out."
"I ended up in the system after that. Never staying anywhere long. I was... difficult. Angry. Lashing out at everyone and everything."
He breaks off another piece of cupcake, gathering more frosting before bringing it to my lips. "Then I met Knox," River says, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Or William as he still went by back then. He was different from the other kids. Quiet, watchful. But I could see the darkness in his eyes, the same darkness I saw in the mirror every day."
His fingers go back to trailing down my neck, tracing abstract patterns on my collarbone. "We recognized something in each other. A kindred spirit. Someone who understood the ugliness of the world, who wasn't afraid to do what needed to be done."
River's hand moves lower, skimming over the swell of my breast. His touch is feather-light, teasing. "We became inseparable. Partners in crime, literally and figuratively. We protected each other, watched each other's backs. And when the time came, we killed together."