Chapter 12 - Carmela
“I want you to tie me up.”
The words hang in the air between us, raw and vulnerable in the darkness of Van's bedroom.
We're still tangled in his sheets, both of us catching our breath from the intensity of what just happened, and I can feel my pussy still throbbing with aftershocks from how thoroughly he just fucked me.
But even with my body still humming with satisfaction, I need more.
Van's body goes completely still beneath me, every muscle turning to bone. His steel-gray eyes search my face with that hypervigilant intensity that never fully leaves him—even in our sanctuary, he's always assessing threats, keeping me safe.
"What exactly are you thinking about, princess?" His voice is carefully controlled, but I can feel his pulse quicken under my fingertips where they rest against his throat.
Heat blooms across my cheeks despite everything we've already shared. My nipples are still hard from his mouth, my inner thighs sticky with evidence of how well he just made me come, but this feels like crossing into entirely new territory.
"The restraints," I say, forcing myself to hold his gaze. "I want to explore deeper submission with you." I trace the pulse point at his throat, feeling how it races. "After what happened at the gallery, Emma's head, those men… I trust you completely. I want to be bound for you."
The crisis feels like a lifetime ago, but it's only been hours since we proved we could handle anything together. That partnership, that trust we built under pressure—it's opened something inside me, made me crave surrendering control to him in ways I've never imagined.
He's quiet for a long moment, his surgeon's hands stroking through my hair. Those hands that saved the gallery assistant's life just hours ago, that just made me scream his name. "Carmela—"
"I know what I'm asking for," I interrupt, sitting up so he can see the certainty in my eyes.
The silk sheets pool around my waist, cool against my heated skin.
My breasts feel heavy, nipples tight as his gaze drops to them.
"I've been thinking about those silk ties in your hidden room.
About what it would feel like to give you that level of control over my body.
" I lean down to kiss him softly, tasting myself on his lips from when he ate me out earlier.
"I want to give myself to you that way. Completely. "
His cock stirs against my thigh, already hardening again despite how thoroughly we just fucked. But I can see the war playing out behind his eyes—want and hesitation battling each other.
"I've never been more sure of anything," I whisper against his lips. "Take me to your bedroom and show me what it means to belong to you."
Van's hands still in my hair, and I feel the shift in his breathing—deeper, more labored, like he's fighting something I can't see.
His cock is fully hard now, pressed between us, but when I look up at him, there's something darker in his expression—not desire, but something that makes my chest tighten with concern.
"You don't understand what you're asking," he says, his voice rougher than usual, more broken than I've ever heard it. The protective instincts I've come to recognize are warring with something else, something that makes his hands shake slightly against my scalp.
"Then help me understand." I sit up fully, my lips still sensitive and swollen from his claiming, studying the way his jaw has gone tight. "Van, what is it?"
He struggles to meet my eyes, phantom pain making him flex his fingers. When he finally looks at me, I see the vulnerability he usually keeps buried so deep. "Being restrained… it's not just about control for me. There are memories—military things I don't talk about."
My heart clenches as understanding dawns. His dominance needs are tangled up with things that hurt him, and he's trying to protect me from that darkness.
"Afghanistan," I say softly, remembering fragments he's let slip. "Something happened when you were restrained."
His hands fist in the sheets, knuckles white. "I can't—when you're vulnerable like this, asking me to—" He breaks off, jaw working. "I should be protecting you, not dragging you into my fucked-up head."
But I can see how much he needs this, needs me. The way his cock throbs against his stomach despite his hesitation tells me everything.
Twenty minutes later, I'm lying on Van's bed with my wrists bound to the headboard with silk ties, exactly as I'd imagined.
The material feels cool against my heated skin, creating delicious tension between comfort and complete vulnerability.
My legs are spread wide, ankles tied to the bedposts, leaving me completely exposed to his hungry gaze.
Van moves around the room calmly, but I can see the tension in every line of his body. His cock is hard, jutting from his body, but his breathing tells me he's fighting internal demons.
"How does that feel?" he asks, checking the restraints. His fingers brush against my pulse points, and I know he's monitoring my reaction.
"Perfect," I breathe, and it's true. The restraint makes every sensation more intense, makes me hyperaware of how I am already growing wet just from being displayed for him like this. "Van, look at me."
When his eyes meet mine, I see the exact moment something breaks inside him. His face crumbles, and suddenly he's sitting heavily on the edge of the bed, head in his hands.
"I was tied down for eighteen hours," he says, voice raw with pain.
"Eighteen hours… fuck, Carmela. They had me restrained again during my court-martial testimony.
Made me relive every fucking second of being tied down while my patients died around me.
" His hands shake. "I was the unit medic, and they held me down while they executed the soldiers I was supposed to save. "
The image makes my stomach clench with pain so sharp I gasp.
"Van—"
"I can still hear them screaming," he continues, words pouring out like a dam has burst. "I was helpless.
Completely fucking helpless while people who trusted me died because I couldn't move, couldn't fight back.
" He looks up at me, eyes devastated. "They held me down and made me watch every single one die.
And here you are, asking me to make you helpless too. "
"Van, listen to my voice," I say firmly, pulling every ounce of strength into the words since I can't use my hands. The silk restraints hold me open, my pussy exposed and vulnerable, but I can still be his anchor. "This is different. This is my choice."
He looks at me, really looks, taking in how I'm spread before him—bound but unbroken.
"You're not making me helpless," I continue, voice steady. I tug gently at the silk ties. "You're giving me the safety to surrender. There's a difference." My voice drops to a whisper. "Those restraints were about taking your power away. These are about me giving you mine."
I watch understanding dawn in his eyes. His breathing starts to slow as he processes the difference.
"I'm not going anywhere," I tell him. "I'm right here, and I choose this. I choose you." My voice softens. "Your trauma doesn't make you broken, Van."
He reaches out tentatively, fingers brushing along my cheek, then trailing down to cup my breast. My nipple hardens instantly under his touch.
"You're bound, and you're still taking care of me," he says, wonder in his voice.
Something shifts in his expression then, healing replacing the haunted look. His hand slides down my body, fingers trailing over my ribs, my hip, until he's cupping my center. I'm soaking wet, my arousal coating his fingers.
"Fuck, sunshine," he breathes, sliding one finger inside me. "You're dripping."
I arch as much as the restraints allow, desperate for more friction. "Please, Van. Touch me."
Van positions himself between my spread thighs, his cock hard and leaking as he stares down at my bound body. The silk ties hold me completely open for him, glistening with arousal despite the emotional intensity.
"So fucking beautiful," he mutters, running his hands up my inner thighs. "Spread out for me like this. Mine to do whatever I want with."
His fingers part my lips, exposing my clit to the cool air. I'm swollen and sensitive, my hole clenching around nothing as he teases me.
"Please," I gasp, tugging at the restraints. The silk holds firm, keeping me exactly where he wants me.
Instead of answering, he leans down and drags his tongue through my slit, from my entrance to my clit. The sensation makes me cry out, my hips bucking as much as the bonds allow.
"Stay still," he commands, his voice taking on that dominant edge I crave. "You don't move unless I tell you to."
He works me with his mouth, tongue circling my clit before diving deep to taste my arousal. I'm so wet I can hear the obscene sounds of his mouth on my core, can feel my juices running down to coat my ass.
"Van, shit, I'm going to come," I warn, feeling the familiar tension building.
He pulls back immediately, leaving me gasping and desperate. "Not yet, baby. Not until I say."
I whimper, pulling at the restraints, but he just smirks and moves up my body. His head brushes against my core, catching on my entrance before sliding away.
"Beg for it," he says, positioning himself at my opening but not pushing inside.
"Please," I gasp, trying to angle my hips to take him deeper.
"Say the words, princess. I want to hear those filthy thoughts coming out of your mouth."
I never thought I could say words like these, but I never thought I could feel like this either. "Please fuck me, Van. I need your cock inside me."
"That's my good girl," he growls, and slams into me in one brutal thrust.
I scream at the sudden fullness, my pussy stretching to accommodate his thick length. He gives me no time to adjust, immediately setting a punishing pace that has the headboard rattling against the wall.