Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Lyra
Have I lost my mind?
The thought ricochets through me as Stryker’s smile turns slow and predatory, his dark eyes locking onto mine like he’s already won whatever game we’ve started. Trouble. That’s what he promised, and my body betrays me, a shiver racing down my spine that’s equal parts fear and anticipation.
This man—this Hawkeye agent who could unravel everything I’ve hidden—has me naked, exposed, and craving more.
It’s dangerous, this pull toward him, like stepping into a vault knowing the alarm’s about to scream.
But God, the thrill of it, the edge I’ve danced on my whole life, makes me want to lean in instead of run.
He doesn’t waste time. He slides his hand up my thigh, firm and possessive, guiding me over his lap with that effortless strength that makes my pulse stutter.
I brace myself on the mattress, my cheeks burning as he positions me, my ass in the air, vulnerable and waiting.
The cabin’s warmth presses against my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his palm resting on the curve of my bottom, teasing, not yet striking.
“You know why we’re here,” he murmurs, his voice that gravel-over-velvet rumble that vibrates through me. With his free hand, he strokes my back, soothing, almost tender, lulling me into a false sense of safety. “You let go of that headboard without permission. That’s defiance, Allie.”
I squirm, not sure if it’s to escape or to beg for more. “I was just—”
His first swat lands, light but deliberate, a sharp sting that blooms into warmth.
I gasp, my body jerking forward, but he holds me steady, his grip unyielding on my hip.
It’s not pain, not really—more like a spark that ignites something deeper, something I’ve never admitted to wanting.
Another swat follows, slower this time, his palm cupping me afterward, rubbing the heat in circles that make me bite my lip to stifle a moan.
He pauses, his hand stilling, and I feel his gaze on me, assessing. “You need a safe word, sweetheart. Something to stop everything if it’s too much.”
I want to protest that I won’t need one, don’t want one.
I can take anything that Stryker can dish out. And if I can’t, I’ll lay him out flat.
“Having one increases trust.”
My heart hammers as the word once again echoes in my head. I’m sure he means it in a reassuring way, but to me it’s a warning. He wants me to let him into places I’ve always kept people out of.
For now, for bedroom antics, I’m fine with that. But he gets nothing beyond that.
“Allie?” he prompts.
I exhale. Allie. He doesn’t even know my real name. How dangerous can he be? “I’ll go with red. That’s the most common one, isn’t it?” Well, it had been the one a heroine chose in my favorite book.
“Yellow to slow down?”
He’s wasting my time with all these questions, but I don’t tell him that. “That’s fine,” I say instead.
“Use your safe words at any time.” He traces the edge where my thigh meets my ass, sending sparks straight to my core. “I won’t stop otherwise.”
Good.
I shift, but before I can settle, he resumes, the swats coming in a steady rhythm now, each one building on the last.
The sting sharpens, heat spreading like fire under my skin, but it’s intoxicating, this mix of vulnerability and power. I wiggle against him, my hips shifting instinctively, chasing the sensation even as my mind screams that I should fight it.
He chuckles low in his throat, the sound wrapping around me like a restraint. “You like this, don’t you? Remember earlier, when I had you over my shoulder? That little swat I gave you—you squirmed just like this. Moaned a little too.”
“No!” The protest bursts out, automatic, heat flooding my face. I didn’t—did I? The memory blurs with the adrenaline of the chase, but his words stir heat deep inside me.
“You, sweetheart, are a little liar.” His voice drops, edged with amusement and something darker, and the next swat lands harder, the crack echoing in the room.
I yelp, the sting sharper, blooming into a deep, throbbing ache that makes me clench, my arousal slick between my thighs. He doesn’t let up, delivering a few more in quick succession, each one harsher, pushing me to the edge where pain twists into pleasure.
I’m breathless, spinning.
This is…
I wiggle harder, grinding against his lap without meaning to, my scent filling the air—musky, undeniable evidence of how much I crave this.
God, his spanks are simultaneously too much and not enough. The domestic simplicity of it—him caring for me with chai earlier, now this raw intimacy—clashes with the danger he poses to me, emotionally as well as physically.
I freeze.
“Relax, sweetheart.”
I close my eyes.
Even in intimate moments, I never let go. Not entirely.
But…
For the first time in my life, I’m tempted.
Why not?
Soon I’ll vanish, and I’ll never see him again.
What’s the harm in giving myself over? Just for tonight. Just in the bedroom.
I close my eyes and exhale completely.
“Yeah. That’s it. That’s fucking it.”
Then on and on he goes, his hand marking me, owning me. The world narrows to this bed, this man.
He stops abruptly, his palm soothing the heated skin, fingers dipping lower to tease the wetness between my legs. I arch into his touch, desperate, but he pulls back just as the pressure builds, leaving me gasping.
“Not yet.” His voice is firm yet gentle as he flips me onto my back with that controlled strength that makes my stomach turn a somersault. His eyes rake over me, dark and hungry, as he settles between my thighs. “We’re building trust here, Allie. You give me control, and I give you what you need.”
His fingers trace my folds, light at first, circling my clit with maddening precision. Pleasure coils tight, my hips bucking as he slides two fingers inside me, curling them just right. I’m climbing, so close, the edge rushing up—
And he stops. Withdraws completely.
I whimper, frustration twisting with need. “Stryker—”
“Have you ever been edged?”
I scowl at him. “Edged?”
“Taken to the brink of orgasm.”
Like he had earlier?
“And then been forbidden the orgasm? Again and again.”
My mouth opens and closes slowly.
“You’re about to find out how much you can really endure. Sweetheart.”
It sounds… I don’t know. Frustrating. Annoying. After all, I like to get off and then get out of a man’s bed and slip out under the cover of night.
But there’s a dark note of challenge in his voice that made me want to rise to the occasion. “Do your worst.”
He chuckles. “Oh, sweet, sweet Allie. You have no idea.”
He leans down, his breath hot against my skin as he kisses my inner thigh, then higher, his tongue flicking out to taste me.
The sensation is electric, building me up again, faster this time. His mouth closes over my clit, sucking gently while his fingers return, pumping in a rhythm that has the world spinning off its axis.
“Please.” I’m back to begging, and until him, I’ve never done that before.
“Patience.”
Desperately I fist my hands into the sheets. Trust. That’s what this is—him pushing me to the brink, making me rely on him to catch me. Trust is a thief’s worst enemy, and yet here I am, surrendering inch by inch. “I want—”
“We’re doing this at my pace. I’ll decide when you can come. If you can come.”
Twice more, he brings me to the brink, and each time he pulls back at the last second, allowing his free hand to roam my curves, soothing, teasing.
His fingers move to my locket. Without a word, he traces its teardrop shape, his touch sending a jolt through me that’s more than physical. It’s intimate, like he’s searching out my secrets but without demanding to know them—yet.
By the fourth denial, I’m trembling, tears pricking my eyes, every nerve alive and screaming for release. “I can’t—”
“You can.”
I hold onto his voice as he continues the overwhelming sensual assault.
I’m lost, no longer knowing where I end and he begins. I’m surrendering in a way I never have before.
And I’m totally, completely unravelling. I’m dying to come. And I honestly don’t know how much more I can take.
Yet he’s relentless. Terrible. Perfectly demanding.
My body shakes, and I’m drenched in sweat. His denials have turned into physical pain, and I wrench myself away from him. “Yellow—”
He freezes immediately, his hand cupping my face, thumb wiping a tear. “Talk to me.”
“Slow down,” I whisper, my voice shaky. “It’s too much.”
He nods, his expression softening, and he gathers me against him, his arms a fortress around my quaking body. “I’ve got you. We will stop if you need to.”
But I don’t want to stop. Not really. The danger of it—the way he’s taking me apart piece by piece—feels like the heists I grew up on, the rush of almost getting caught. “Green,” I say after a breath, meeting his eyes. “Keep going.”
His smile is wicked, approving. “That’s my girl.”
He resumes, more slowly now, his touches deliberate, rebuilding the fire until I’m teetering again. This time, when the wave crests, he doesn’t pull away. “Come for me, Allie. Let go.”
I shatter, the orgasm ripping through me like a storm, waves crashing until I’m boneless, spent, clinging to him. He holds me through it, murmuring praises that sink into my skin, his hands gentle now, tracing patterns on my back.
In the quiet aftermath, my breathing evens.
He said he wanted to build trust. And he is. He instantly stopped, made me talk when I said yellow. But this trust… I know it’s a cage—a cage I might not want to escape.
It’s official Stryker is more dangerous than the men who are after me.
Physical battles, I know how to win. Emotional ones?
I have no idea what to do with those.
“You’re trembling, Allie, but I’m nowhere near done with you.” His voice is a low, dangerous rumble, each word a promise that curls heat through my core.
More nervous than I want to let on, I look at him.
As he sweeps his gaze over me, his eyes darken with intensity, a silent vow that this vulnerability I’ve just surrendered is merely the spark, and the fire he’s about to unleash will consume me whole…