Chapter 19
ALEX
“Lex.” Something wasn’t right—not just that I’d heard Zach call my name, but too much pressure built in my head.
I was naked, my arms and legs bound by rope though it wasn’t rough against my skin like I’d expect.
The bindings hugged me, smooth as silk, pressing my ankles to the backs of my thighs, connecting to my wrists at my back.
Where the heck was I?
I parted my lips, but a feeble groan came out. The floor swayed underneath me.
No. I was the one moving, swinging upside down with my dark curls brushing the rough cement.
A chair scraped behind me, and clothing rustled, drowned out by the soft thump of footsteps.
I sensed the heat of his body before his clothes brushed my skin.
Two sickeningly familiar palms kneaded my ass, fingers reaching close to the center of my traitorous cunt.
“Don’t you fucking touch her!”
Rafe. I lifted my head and found him bound in chains.
Oh my God.
Nikki lay on the ground beside his feet in a puddle of blood.
We were back in the tunnel, only this time Zach was our tormenter.
I sobbed at the sight of Rafe. He sported a busted lip, and his left eye was swollen shut, lost to the ugly plum, mustard, and blue skin that puffed around his lid. And Nikki…she was dead. There was no saving her. We were all here because of me.
“She’ll beg me to touch her,” Zach said, running a finger up my slit. I was beet red with shame, afraid to look at Rafe because I’d only find repulsion.
“This changes nothing, babe. Do you hear me?” Rafe shouted. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”
Zach stomped across the room and shoved a cloth between Rafe’s teeth. When he turned around, he did so with a devious smile. He sauntered to me, unbuttoning his jeans and yanking his zipper down to reveal his erection springing toward me at eye-level.
“I know you love us both,” Zach said, gripping my head so I couldn’t turn away, “but you have a decision to make.”
“What decision?” I cried, my eyes stinging.
“You need to decide which one of us gets to live.”
I jerked awake with a silent scream, mouth wide open in horror. Huffing in fast and shallow breaths, I gazed at Rafe’s side of the bed and found it empty. The clock glowed an eerie 12:02 a.m.
We’d gone to bed over an hour ago, but where was he?
Sliding from the sweat-drenched sheets, I tiptoed into the sitting area and found him festering in the dark.
“Rafe?” My voice came out hollow, small, and I had to say his name again before he realized I stood in the shadows, burrowing into them, finding comfort in the obscurity of blackness.
How strange that darkness comforted at a time like this, right after I’d awakened thrashing in the sheets, sweat drenching my skin, unable to scream because terror had lodged in my throat. I raised my hand, then halted half way to my arm, nails aching to dig in.
Rafe and I exchanged a meaningful glance, and I dropped my hand.
But the need to get lost in the sting of pain was overbearing, strangling…
strong enough to make a person go mad. I ached to feel his hand on my ass, but I didn’t think I deserved it—not after the twisted dreams I’d been having for the past few nights.
Since the day Rafe revealed his son to me, life had gone on in an odd, surreal way. I’d spent my days chained to the bedroom floor while he left to train for the upcoming match with Zach. Nothing I said or did would change his mind about fighting my brother.
He said he was doing it for me…for us. But I didn’t believe him.
He harbored an immeasurable amount of rage.
Since Rafe had decided not to take it out on me, Zach was the only one left, the true culprit—in Rafe’s eyes—responsible for everything.
For his imprisonment, the destruction of his family’s legacy, and even the murder of his son’s mother.
But we weren’t on the same page. We weren’t even in the same book.
I’d had a choice; lie or tell the truth, and I’d made the wrong call.
The worst decision of my life had ricocheted for years, not only destroying Rafe but the lives of so many others.
Maybe he could forgive me for it, make excuses for my reprehensible behavior, but I couldn’t forgive myself no matter how often he spanked me or demanded I let the guilt go.
Nothing had the power to abolish this sense of culpability I carried around, and it was manifesting in my dreams.
The first night I dreamed of Zach’s tongue between my thighs, I thought I’d vomit all over Rafe as he slept at my side.
How I managed to silence my disgusted sobs without waking him, I didn’t know.
I’d toyed with the idea of telling him, especially when he gave me a certain look—like he knew something was wrong and I was keeping it from him.
“Why are you out here?” I asked.
“Couldn’t sleep. Too keyed up, I guess.”
I gulped. The fight was tomorrow. A few hours ago, he’d received a text alerting him to keep an eye out for another text disclosing the time and location. No wonder he couldn’t sleep. No wonder I was having bad dreams.
We were living in a real life nightmare.
He rose slowly, and his bare feet padded across the space. He set two gentle hands on my shoulders. So gentle, yet those fingers could wield crushing strength around my throat, were immovable when they held my chin in place during a lecture.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, studying my face. If I told him nothing was wrong, he’d know. This was it—the moment I’d known was coming. He was about to force my hand.
But I wanted to be open with him. I wanted to be able to tell him anything and everything, the way I expected him to. Fair was fair.
“I…” Clearing my throat, I tried again, but nothing came out.
He frowned. “What do you need from me, babe? Tell me.”
“You know what I need. Don’t make me say it.”
“Not only are you gonna say it, but you’re gonna beg for it.” He lowered his face, hungry lips lingering close.
Too close.
I couldn’t decide if I wanted to kiss him, or bend over and offer him my ass.
“Hurt me,” I whispered. “Please, Rafe. Hurt me in a way that makes me feel good.”
“Get on your knees,” he said, his palms applying pressure to my shoulders. Allowing my knees to buckle, I lowered to my haunches. The floor welcomed me with unbearable hardness. I squirmed, spread my thighs, and clasped my hands at my back, the way I knew he liked.
Not many would understand how cherished I felt at that moment when he commanded my eyes and brushed his fingers through my curls.
“I was hoping you’d tell me on your own, but you’ve been silently stewing for days. Enough is enough. What’s bothering you?”
I opened my mouth, but words failed me. How could I tell him about the dreams without sounding like a total whore?
“I’ve been having nightmares.”
“Okay,” he said with patience, trailing his fingers through my hair still, nearly hypnotizing me with his touch. “Unload them on me.”
I dropped my gaze to his feet. “I don’t…I can’t remember details.”
“You’re lying to me.” His fingers curled at my scalp and pulled in warning. “You know how that will end.”
I wanted to deny it, but I couldn’t bring myself to perpetuate the lie. “Don’t make me tell you this.” I swallowed past the lump of shame clogging my throat. “I’m naked, on my knees, willing to do anything. What more do you want from me?”
“The truth. Isn’t that how this works? You’re not weaseling your way out of this one. If you need the bite of pain, I’ll give it to you. But I want to know why first. You’re not punishing yourself anymore. That’s my burden now.”
“I’m not punishing my—”
“Do I need to make your ass burn for lying?”
“No,” I said quickly, cringing at the thought of my bottom flaming from ginger. That was probably the one thing I despised most. The pain of his belt or hand gave me the sting I craved…needed, but the intensity of that evil stuff was beyond my limits.
“Then start talking. This is the third night you’ve had a nightmare. What’s haunting you?”
I hadn’t realized he’d known. And here I thought I’d been clever by keeping the dreams to myself. I shifted, gritting my teeth against the floor under my knees. “Can I get up first?”
He pulled the waistband of his pajama pants below his hard-on.
“Give me your mouth, and I’ll think about it.
” He yanked on my curls and drew me closer to his straining shaft.
“When you’re ready to confess what’s really bothering you, I’ll let you get up.
Until then, I’m gonna make you choke on my cock.
I’ve got a lot of stamina built up, so you might be down there for a while. ”
I peeked at his imposing form. God, he was beautiful. That expanse of muscle and the sexy lines of ink that was as much a part of him as his domineering nature.
“Open your mouth,” he said, his voice raspy, breathless. Caging me between his body and the wall, he shot a palm out and propped himself up as he nudged my lips with his erection.
I felt undeniably exposed with my legs spread wide and my hands at my back.
Heat flared at my center, but there would be no relief until I spilled.
Just empty space and chilly air to tease me.
I fastened my lips around him, drawing in a deep breath, and gave up on the idea of begging him for what I wanted, needed.
His belt on my ass.
Him telling me I wasn’t a worthless, unlovable whore.
Him inside me. Now.
God, I needed all those things more than my next breath, so I sucked his cock with vigor, laving my tongue on the underside of his shaft, around the head, flicking lightly over the slit, before taking him deep.
Over and over again—lick, swirl, flick, and suck him hard.
All the while, I kept my gaze latched on his face.