50. Sydney
fifty
sydney
“Are you ready?” Penn practically bounces on his heels.
I let out a low sigh, but I nod. When Perri and Dad asked if I’d get lunch with them, both guys shooed me out the door. While hiding out of sight, of course. My father would probably murder both of them if he caught them in my room.
But Carter’s insights were… helpful.
I understand what he said, but there was no way I’m facing that reality on my own. Although, hearing him speak it out loud, it’s easier to accept it. My brain is confusing my consent with Oliver—and, admittedly, the time in the arena is sketchy at best—with my fear of Bear’s rape, and also blending the two incidents. Where one was not successful and the other… happened.
I still don’t know if I can call what Oliver did in the arena consensual or not. The mask and heightened emotions fucked everything up.
But Penn and Carter think there’s a way to help me. And at this point, I’m willing to try whatever it takes. While they haven’t laid out exactly what their plan is, I figure it has something to do with talking to Oliver.
That thought alone twists my stomach, but I’m trying to be strong.
“I’m ready,” I confirm. “You’re going with me…?”
“Yes,” Carter says. He shoots Penn a look.
Penn shrugs.
We’re standing outside Carter’s hotel room. He got a room on a different floor but luckily managed to get the same hotel.
They both seem curious, which is not a great sign.
Carter pulls his key card out and swipes it. The door clicks as it unlocks, and I grip the handle. I’m not sure what awaits me, but I need to find out.
There’s a short little hallway with a bathroom on the right, and it opens into a room with two double beds. It’s pretty much a carbon copy of mine.
Except tied down to one of the beds is Oliver Ruiz.
I suck in a breath and stumble back. Carter is right there, catching me around the waist. He runs his nose up my neck behind my ear.
“He can’t hear us,” he whispers. “He can’t see us. And he can’t move.”
I glance over my shoulder at them. “Did you… kidnap him? Or did he agree to this?”
Carter smirks, and my belly tightens.
“He doesn’t know where he is,” Penn says quietly. “He doesn’t know who took him.”
Carter directs my attention to the towel laid out on the desk. Well, not so much the towel as the supplies on it.
A ball gag, a dildo with straps coming off of it, a riding crop, lube, a small rubber ring.
“You don’t expect me to use those…”
Carter shrugs. He goes through each one. The rubber ring is a cock ring, which will make an erection harder. It’s tight, so it restricts blood flow.
I squirm.
He gets to the strap-on dildo and moves the lube next to it.
Pass .
“Okay,” I finally say on an exhale. “Got it. You two can go.”
They exchange a look.
“Are you sure?” Penn asks.
I frown.
“Maybe we’ll just wait over here… out of sight,” Carter suggests. “We won’t peek, but if you need us we’ll literally be right here.”
That actually doesn’t sound like a bad idea. A thrill goes through me.
“Am I a bad person for wanting this?”
They both shake their heads. They both seem… excited? Nah. That’s got to be my imagination.
Once they’re out of sight, I shed my coat and toss it on the other bed. Neither have been slept in, although they didn’t even give Oliver pillows. He lies spread-eagle on the stripped bed, naked except for his boxers. Each wrist and ankle are tied separately. There’s a black fabric bag over his head, and a thick pair of headphones on his ears over it.
I pick up the riding crop, running my finger over the folded leather tip.
He’s been completely still. I don’t know if he knows what’s coming, if he’s put together this much, or if he’s unconscious. Or maybe he doesn’t know that anyone has joined him in the room, and he’s still waiting.
I use the crop on his stomach.
His abdomen ripples, and his whole body reacts to the pain. He makes a muffled noise, somewhere between a curse and a groan.
I aim lower this time, just at the edge of his boxer’s waistband. The smack is satisfying, but his reaction is better. I’m taken back to Penn and me in the woods, and my cheeks heat. I move up the bed and run the tip of the crop along his skin. From his abdomen up his chest, to his hidden throat. Over his mouth, nose, eyes, forehead, then back down to his shoulder. Along his arm, to the fingers that are curled into fists.
I set it aside and go back to the bathroom. Penn and Carter are leaning on opposite sides, but both straighten when I appear in the doorway.
“Do you have your knife?” I ask Carter.
He pulls it from his pocket without hesitation.
I return to Oliver and cut away his boxers. I nick the skin at his hip purposefully, wanting him to know exactly what’s happening. He swears in Spanish, struggling worse against the ties.
He doesn’t want to be taken by a stranger either.
But physiology is basic. As soon as the scraps of fabric are gone, I lean over and touch his flaccid dick. I stroke it with one finger, up and down like I’m tickling him. It twitches and lifts a little. I spit in my hand and wrap my fingers around it.
I jerk him to hardness, and then I roll the cock ring down his shaft. His hips buck. He growls at his own response, I think.
“It doesn’t feel so good when someone knows how to turn you on, does it?”
My question is met with silence.
His cock is still twitching. The ring looks tight, but it seems to just be making things, well, more strained.
Before I toss the knife, I carve my initials into his hip. He swears again. I think.
With the knife safely on the other bed, I take a deep breath and pull off my leggings. I put my knee on the mattress and swing my other leg over his hips. I straddle him, his cock right in front of me, and settle on his thighs. Slowly, I lean forward. I grip the bottom of the hood and loosen the strap. I push the hem up to his nose and rip off the tape.
I want him to talk his way out of this.
The hood comes back down, and I cinch it tight enough to dig lightly into his throat. He can still fucking breathe—that’s the important part.
“Get the fuck off of me,” he growls. He slips into Spanish. Then back to English. “You fucking psychopath. This is?—”
I grip his cock, and his words die. I stroke him slowly, from the ring at his base to the tip and back. Precum leaks onto my fingers.
When I lean forward again, his dick is pressed between my abdomen and his.
I rip the headphones off, then resume stroking him.
As soon as I speak, he’ll know it’s me.
“Please don’t,” he finally breathes. “Don’t touch me.”
Something in me cracks open. I crawl up his chest and undo the hood, shoving it up past his eyes. Eyes that blink and squint, adjusting to the light, before coming to me.
He understands a little.
Not all of it. Not the nightmares that won’t let me go.
“Sydney.” His voice cracks. “Oh God, I’m so fucking sorry.”
I slide down his body again. There’s no foreplay—I notch him at my slit and push down, taking him inside me in one movement.
His arms yank on the restraints. His eyes burn into my body. I touch his chest, the red marks left by the crop, the six-pack of abs.
“I took it too far. I deserve this.”
Yes, you do .
I lift off him then slowly lower, taking him deeper inside me. I remove my hands from his body and keep them on my thighs. I’m not here for him, to make him feel better.
This is for me.
So I take my pleasure from his body. I touch myself in front of him, cupping my breasts through my shirt and bra, pinching my nipples. I get myself off using him like a fuck toy. I rub my clit hard, using him to nudge my G-spot with every downward slam. When I come, my eyes flutter shut and my core tenses around him.
I groan. I try to enjoy it.
I haven’t felt anything in just over a week.
“That was hot,” Penn says.
I jump. Oliver glowers at him but otherwise remains silent. It’s only when Carter comes down the hall that Oliver swears in Spanish again.
“Ball gag,” I say.
He’s still inside me. I don’t really feel inclined to move. But Carter’s expression lights up, and he retrieves it. He seems to take a little too much joy wrestling it into Oliver’s mouth. He pinches his nose shut until Oliver can’t take it anymore, and the hard rubber fits between his teeth. Carter straps it around his head and returns to me. He pulls me toward him and kisses me.
Hard.
I moan. My hips automatically move, and Oliver’s cock slides against my sensitive flesh.
“I want your ass,” Carter says in my ear.
My face heats. Only Oliver and L. have gone there.
I’ve been ignoring my mystery texter, too. I haven’t cared enough to check my phone for any texts, let alone the where are you s and are you okay s that come from loved ones.
Penn moves to the other bed and sits toward the top, even with Oliver’s head. “By all means,” he says. “I want her pussy. I’ll wait.”
Oliver groans.
Carter has no fucking problem climbing on the bed behind us. He brushes my hair over my shoulder and kisses my neck.
A chill sweeps down my back, but I tip my head to give him more room. He leans me forward more, and the cold drip of lube slips between my ass cheeks. His finger chases it, circling my asshole. When he pushes the finger in, I groan.
Oliver’s gaze is fastened to my face.
Carter finger-fucks me for a minute, then withdraws.
When his dick touches me, I automatically tense. I fold lower, putting my forearms on Oliver’s chest. I splay my fingers out across his pecs.
When Carter pushes in, the fullness of both of them registers.
“Holy shit,” I moan. It hurts until it doesn’t, and Carter hasn’t even started to thrust in earnest yet.
“Look at me,” Penn suddenly orders. He has his cock out. He fists it slowly, the tip already red and oozing.
“Ready?” Carter asks me.
I nod.
He starts off slow. Every inch rattles me with pleasure, and he seems to sink deeper with each thrust. His hips finally slap my ass, my whole body jerking forward.
Oliver slides. He seems to have enough movement to thrust his hips, too, and I gasp.
“Oh, fuck,” Carter groans. “He can’t say it, so I will.”
“Did you feel it, too?” Penn asks him.
“Yep.” He leans over my shoulder. “Do it again, Ruiz.”
If looks could kill?—
He does it again.
My eyes roll back. I lose track of who’s doing what, but the next thing I know, there are fingers on my clit and another tugging at my nipple through my sports bra, then slipping under it to get contact with my bare skin.
“Stay with us.”
I sink down on Oliver. Dig my nails into his chest. The flutter is back—a good one this time that builds between my legs. The sensation of both of them, plus Carter’s wandering hands, is overwhelming.
My body can’t figure out what to focus on, so I end up watching Oliver.
His hazel eyes are so dark green, his pupils dilated. I reach for him. My fingers trail across the bands of the gag. He lifts his head a little, and I undo the buckle.
He turns his head and spits it out.
“Kiss me,” he whispers. “Please.”
I do. Hard. He strains against the binds, his muscles tensing under me. Our lips slide, parting and opening. I catch his lower lip between my teeth and bite.
He groans.
“This is fucking hot,” Penn comments. “Hurry up, C.”
Carter hurries. I taste blood on my tongue and release Oliver’s lip. Carter’s fingers force an orgasm from my body. I cry out at the sharp burst of pleasure. I clench around them and bow forward, burying my face in his chest.
Carter lets out a groan and stills suddenly. Oliver jacks his hips up again, and Carter hisses. After a long moment, he pulls out.
“Come here, princess.” Penn’s voice is dark.
I rise. Oliver’s cock slides out of me, and I slip away from him. His eyes track me, although he doesn’t protest. He’s still hard, impressively so. The veins along his shaft stand out, the head a dark red.
But I move toward Penn anyway. He grabs me and flips me onto the mattress under him, sliding into me with ease. He kisses me softly, completely at odds with how hard he drives into me.
I wind my arms around his neck, keeping him pressed against my chest.
He drags his lips across my jaw.
“Not gonna last long,” he says in my ear.
I wind my legs around him and pretend not to be broken. Pretend I didn’t go radio silent for a week. Pretend I don’t have a serious problem. Pretend, pretend, pretend.
He, too, spills inside me. I close my eyes as he kisses my neck, sucking and biting at a spot that’s sure to be visible.
It doesn’t matter.
Slowly, as if air is being released from a balloon, I drain out. I relax into the mattress until he lifts up and examines my face. He brushes my hair back, tucks it behind my ear. When he sits up, he takes me with him.
I swing my legs over and look at Oliver.
Carter half sits on the desk, fully dressed and watching me.
It takes too much effort to put my clothes back on. Leggings. Jacket. Shoes. The whole time, the room is silent.
And when I walk out, no one stops me.