Chapter twenty two #2
The fucking irony. This is supposed to be a safe place for LBC members to hide from danger. Only, I’ve led the danger straight to me. He easily gets the advantage over me, locking the other cuff on my ankle and pulling out the second pair.
“I knew you would fight me on this, so I came prepared.” He cuffs my wrists behind my back. He releases the bandana, allowing me to breathe again, and I take in as many breaths as I can.
“I’ve been wanting to do this since the first time I saw you.” He flips me around like a sack of potatoes, looming over me victoriously. Dangerously. Like a ghost come to haunt my dreams, savoring the fear, the sheer ecstasy of my nightmares.
“I was gonna wait. I was so patient with you, daredevil, wanting to ease you into this.” He squeezes my cheeks, shoving the bandana into my mouth.
“But then-” It has to be a trick of the light, or the lack thereof, because no way did his eyes just go black.
“-you had to go and let. Him. Touch. You.” He spits the words at me, letting his anger lick at my skin.
“It makes me sick.” He lifts me off the ground and swings me over his shoulder.
“I can’t touch you when I want to. I can’t hold you when I need to.” His breathing picks up, like he’s on the verge of snapping.
“I can’t claim you as mine, and I’ve been trying to make what we have enough. Because even breathing the same air as you is a prize I never knew I wanted to win.”
“We know what we have. This sickness between us. We know what it is. But then, Dean gets to touch you. You let him kiss my skin.” My protests are muffled by his bandana.
“Now, I’m forced to take drastic measures.” He drops me onto the table.
“Now, I have to show you who you belong to.”
He unbuttons my jeans, pulling them down, taking my shoes with them. He spreads my legs as far as the cuffs will allow and then just pauses. Runs his fingers through his hair and bites his lip.
“I can be so good to you, Nadia.” Leaning down, he gets closer to the apex of my thighs.
“I thought I was showing you that, but I guess I have to try harder.” He bites the waistband of my panties and drags them down my legs, teasingly, achingly slow. He stops at my knees.
“I can be so good to you, if you’d just let me.”
He looks at me from under his lashes, eyes dripping with pure sex. My core clenches and I can feel myself melting in anticipation and tightening with tension. He continues to drag them down with his teeth, putting them in his back pocket when he’s gotten them off.
Then, he’s pressing feathery light kisses to each of my toes, leisurely trailing his lips back up my leg. He presses a searing kiss to the flesh where my torso and thigh connect, blowing his hot breath on my sex, and my back arches.
Ever so slightly, he licks each of my lips and blows more hot air on them.
“I’d take you on dates.” He parts me with his thumbs.
“I’d spoil you.” He takes one long, agonizing lip from bottom to top, stopping just before he reaches my clit. The moan I let out is embarrassing.
“You’d never have to worry about a goddamn thing ever again.” He promises, continuing his ministrations, but avoiding the one place I need him most.
“But you don’t want that. You don’t want nice.” He speaks over my pulsing clit.
“No,” He says more to himself because I can’t focus on a goddamn thing.
“You need rough.”
He concludes, biting my clit enough to have me toes curling and smoothly the pain away with his tongue.
He sucks my poor clit into his mouth, torturing it with each of his licks.
All the while, I moan and twist on the table, my spine arching with so much pleasure I can’t even feel the pressure on my cuffed wrists anymore.
“You need someone to challenge you, to ignite your ice-cold heart.” Abruptly, he forces two of his fingers into my pussy, curling them upwards and stroking them over my g-spot.
I fucking see stars. He doesn’t give me a moment of reprieve, continuing to draw pleasure from me to the point that I can’t even breathe.
“You need me.” He declares, simultaneously playing with my pussy with both his vicious fingers and sinful mouth.
Closer and closer, he pushes me to the edge. Just as I get there, ready for the orgasm to cripple me, he stops. Everything. Stops. He sharply removes his fingers and blows more air over my heated flesh, and I fucking whine, water flooding my eyes, before I quickly blink it away.
How. Fucking. Dare. He.
“Bad girls don’t get to cum, Nadia.” He tsks at me, and roughly slaps my pussy.
An embarrassing flood of wetness gushes through me, and I clench. Stubbornly, I keep my eyes shut, refusing to give him the eye contact I’ve come to learn he craves. Even so, I listen as he readies his tattoo gun and gets comfortable in his chair.
“No, bad girls get marked to remind them who they belong to.” He presses a sweet, soft kiss to my lips before he begins his work.
“I drew this a while ago. I know you’ll like it; it goes with your others.” He tells me as he permanently stains my right hip.
That night, he revealed a lot about himself.
He’s a creative- who would’ve thought? He loves to draw, namely tattoo designs.
He’s designed and done all his tattoos on himself, only having someone else do the ones on his back.
He’s been drawing from a young age and has done all of the tattoos on his friends, Shane and Skylar, and he does all the
Phantom mark tattoos. It’s a gig he does on the side, though only occasionally since his hands are often tied with Phantom business.
Tattooing me is something he’s been eager to do, in an obsessive lovey-dovey type of way, yes, but also because this is something sacred to him.
A deep part of who he is, and he wanted to show that to me.
Share this connection with me. I’m silent through it all, even when he finishes it, removing the bandana and unlocking the cuffs.
It’s stunning. A chain curving with the natural shape of my hip, decorated with many thorns and only a couple of roses. The linework is intricate, and the shading and technique are immaculate. It’s so fucking beautiful I wanna kiss the idiot and thank him for this, despite how pissed I am.
When I look closer, though, I notice another detail that makes my heart ache. There, hidden in the petals of the rose, are our names in swirly script. The ‘n’ in his name trailing off to make the ‘n’ in mine.
“Do you like it?” It’s an innocent question, but the look in his eyes says it all.
“Yeah, Riven, I do,” I admit begrudgingly.
“Good.” He says, proceeding to clean up his station.
Sighing, I do what I came here to do in the first place. Taking him by surprise, I grab his jaw and press my lips to his split one, kissing it better.