Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
DAKOTA
I sleepily blinked my eyes open at the feeling of large hands on my waist, the comforter being pulled down, something looping around my wrists.
It was dark in the room—but not so dark that I couldn’t see the unforgiving shadow looming over me, eclipsing any moonlight that dared to shine in his presence.
Micah.
Heat sprawled all over my limp body as he stretched my arms above my head.
“Micah,” I whimpered, squeezing my thighs together, eyes darting around so I could re-familiarize myself with my surroundings. It was just me and him in the bedroom, the mattress dipping under his knees on either side of my hips.
Micah knelt over me, knotting the rope around my wrists and securing it to his headboard, his thick blond hair falling over his forehead. His lips were pressed in a cruel line, his jaw flexing like he’d already used up the last of his patience tonight.
Memories of Mason and our video came rushing back, sending an ashamed flush crawling across my chest and up my throat.
“You know you’re breaking my heart, baby girl,” Micah said.
“What?” I breathed, nervousness quickening my pulse.
He ignored me.
I stared up at him, tracing all the daunting lines of his face—his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, his determined eyebrows—while he focused on immobilizing me, forming careful loops and practiced knots.
He was so efficient with his rope, so effortlessly skillful.
My body was still heavy with sleep, but I was squirming more by the second, a relentless throb beginning between my thighs.
The look in his eye was so brutal, so depraved, it threaded itself into the deepest part of my psyche. The part where I wanted nothing more than to be completely and wholly owned by him, possessed by him, shaped in his strong hands.
Each shaky inhale was laced with pine, the scent traveling deep into my lungs, kindling the low flame I’d always burn for him.
Take me apart.
Break me in a way only you can fix.
Once satisfied with my restraints, Micah sat back on the mattress, taking off his belt and unbuttoning his dress shirt, tugging it free of his waistband then shrugging it off his broad shoulders.
The smooth slide of the leather had me sweating, the soft rustling of expensive cotton stirring sinful thoughts in my brain.
He hadn’t even touched me, not any more than was needed to remove the comforter and tie my wrists, but I was already trembling.
I weakly tugged at my restraints, feeling the braided rope on my wrists tighten and hold me firmly. My cheeks blushed pink as I watched him undress.
The darkness in the bedroom obscured Micah’s face just enough that I couldn’t immediately tell what his intentions were with me now, and his voice hadn’t given much away either. It was disorienting.
Usually, he studied me. Cataloged my every minute reaction to him.
But that wasn’t the case tonight.
He was beyond inspection.
The corner of his mouth twitched, like his hunger had risen too close to the surface, and he was frustrated with it.
“Micah,” I said again.
Again, he didn’t answer, choosing instead to stand up and take off his pants, then his undershirt, revealing a sculpted chest and a trim waist and powerful thighs.
My heartbeat was fluttering violently, my breath stalling in my lungs as my eyes widened with both nervousness and my own hunger—which complemented his.
If he wanted to claim, I wanted to be claimed. If he wanted to cut, I wanted to bleed.
In the absence of his presence directly above me, I could feel the cool air drifting over my naked skin, little shivers skittering through my limbs. I liked knowing I was tied up, completely at his mercy, a sacrifice on his altar, not given a choice to refuse anything he wanted to do to me.
If he’s planning on doing anything at all.
My nipples pulled tight, arousal racing up my spine and blooming under my ribs, pooling behind my hips.
His eyes skimmed the length of my bare body stretched out on his bed, moonlight outlining the side of his figure. The thick ridge of his cock was clearly visible in his boxers.
I bit my lower lip to keep from whimpering.
I’d known he was going to be mad getting home from the moment Mason sent him that picture earlier, and then even more mad about the subsequent video, but I’d expected simple agitation or distance.
Not this.
“Did you like making that little video in my bed?” Micah questioned, finally joining me on the bed again, crawling over me. I shrank back into the pillow as he covered my body with his shadow, trapping me below him. A cage of cruel tenderness.
Yes? No?
“I don’t know,” I whispered. There were no safe answers here.
“I bet you thought that was his idea,” Micah said, his voice low in my ear. His lips skimmed my jaw, then down the side of my throat. My skin was buzzing, humming like a live wire.
“Wasn’t it?” I managed to ask.
“No.”
I gasped when Micah bit the curve between my neck and shoulder, sinking his teeth just deep enough to make me yelp. His tongue smoothed over the spot right after, hot and slick, soothing the ache of his sharp canines claiming my flesh.
“I told him to do it,” Micah continued, moving to the other side of my throat. “I specifically asked for that video. Asked him to lick your pussy on camera for me to watch.”
He brushed his lips against my collarbone, making his way down my sternum, over my stomach, until he was hovering over the apex of my thighs. Knowing that Micah had asked Mason to take a video of himself devouring me was making me even wetter.
“If you were a better girl, I’d love to eat this needy cunt for the rest of the night.
The same way he did, but you’d like it even more because I make you come harder than he does,” he said, lowering his face until he was close to the apex of my thighs but not touching.
He inhaled deeply, gripping my thighs hard when I tried to move away from him, holding them apart how he liked, keeping my pussy fully exposed.
“But you’re not a better girl. So I can’t do that yet. ”
“I can be better,” I whined. My clit was pulsing, wetness dripping from me.
“No you can’t.” He dragged his nose along my inner thigh, getting closer to my pussy. “I know you can’t. That’s why we have to do things this way. That’s why you have to wait.”
“Micah.”
“You have to be patient, have to wait until I’m ready to take you back, exactly as you are now.”
“You said you lied, too,” I complained, my hips rolling against nothing.
“Because I did lie. I still do lie.”
“You’re a bad person, then. Just like Mason.”
“Oh, baby girl,” he murmured, lifting his head to brush his mouth over mine. “You are a bad person, too. All three of us are horrible people who can’t stop doing terrible things to hurt each other.”
Goosebumps broke out all across my skin.
“But this is because of you,” he said, rubbing his prominent erection over his boxers. “This is your fault. A problem you caused, and you can’t even fix it. How disappointing is that?”
“I’d fix it if you let me,” I promised.
“And what if fixing it meant me taking your ass?” he questioned, pushing his thumb against the swollen head of his cock, thinly stretching the cotton covering it. “Would you gratefully offer that to me, without hesitation?”
“Yes.” I was nodding before I could even think about his request. Micah could fuck my ass if he wanted. He could fuck any part of me. I would genuinely let him do anything he wanted to me. Especially right now.
“Good. I like that,” he said.
I was melting into the mattress. I didn’t know if I liked the praise or degradation more.
He stroked his cock through his boxers, his eyes dragging all over my naked body stretched out and tied up before him. My thighs were still spread all the way apart. The mere force of his stare on my bare pussy was enough to make me throb and ache and pulse.
“You fucking kill me.” His voice was low, rough. “You know that, Dakota? You know how bad I want to bury my dick in your tight pussy and fuck you until you cry? You know how much I hate the fact that I can’t?”
I wanted to tell him he could. He could do it. He could do anything.
Tell me anything, instruct me to do anything, hurt me or pleasure me however he wanted.
But I was starting to grasp this part of him just a little bit better. The barest corner of his psyche was being revealed to me over these weeks of no sex, and I wouldn’t give that up for something as trivial as a begged-for orgasm.
Micah didn’t like being dominant, being in control.
He had to be.
And I assumed me fucking Mason had triggered that need even stronger.
My patience had grown since making that connection, since realizing the actual reason for my sexual punishment. Even if he didn’t like talking about himself, I was understanding him more.
Wait for me.
Yes, I’ll wait for you.
He tugged his boxers down in the front to free his cock and I sucked in a quick breath, my belly quivering. The heat that traced along the underside of my skin was becoming unbearable. I needed to touch him.
His hand wrapped around his length and he began slowly stroking himself while he knelt between my legs, staring down at me like some sort of angry god. I kept my eyes locked on his face, so when his gaze rose to mine, I felt it.
There wasn’t a second to think before he was bending forward, pressing his mouth to mine, working my yielding lips open with his tongue.
I moaned into the kiss, arching up until I could feel his bare chest against my tits.
I missed you. I miss you. I miss you more than I can even say.
I need you.
Micah had become such a safe place for me, even if he was dangerous. He protected me from everything else. Sometimes it felt like any problem I had could be fixed by him if only I was willing to let him help me, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever had that sort of security from another person before.
I gasped when I felt his dick between my legs.
He rubbed the head of his cock along my pussy, brushing over my clit again and again, groaning low. He pushed at my entrance, just barely, just enough to make my stomach flip with anticipation. Just enough to drive me crazy.
Then he moved away again, denying me.
He kept shaking his head, like he was angry at himself for giving me as much as he was, but he never stopped. The way he was devouring my mouth made me dizzy, his hunger making me drunk.
Please, please, please, please.
The thought of his aroused cock inside of me was working me up so badly I teetered on the edge of complete insanity.
I thought about how big and thick and hard he would feel as he penetrated me, thought of him orgasming inside me, cum dripping out between my thighs after he’d thoroughly worn me out.
I wanted him to use my body until he was satisfied.
As often as he wanted. As hard as he wanted.
“Fuck,” he groaned, low and rough, breathing raggedly against my mouth. “Fuck.”
He leaned back to kneel between my legs, quickening his strokes.
I arched my back, pushing my tits up, staring at him looming over me like I was in a trance. I was hypnotized by the flex of his arm, by the sight of his hand gliding up and down his shaft. Mindless with need.
“You want my cum?” he panted, his arm moving faster.
“Yes,” I whimpered. “Please.”
“All of it? All over you?”
I nodded and nodded and nodded, chest heaving.
“All over these perfect fucking tits?” Micah grabbed my breast with his free hand, squeezing me hard, massaging my flesh. He bent forward and quickly sucked one of my nipples into his mouth, wrapping his lips around it, flicking his tongue over the tip, sucking on it until I was moaning.
I was barely coherent. Completely and totally brainless.
“Well, that’s too fucking bad,” he murmured.
And before I even got a chance to process what he’d just said, he was dragging his undershirt over my body, laying it across my torso. Barely a second later, Micah came on the shirt, marking the cotton with his orgasm, and not a single drop of it went on my skin.
He looked down at me, down at the shirt covering my stomach, down at the cum all over it. My head was spinning.
Micah carefully lifted the t-shirt off me, bundling it up in a ball. “I’m going to wash this,” he said as he held it up. Then he stood up and left the room.
I laid motionless on the bed, staring up at the ceiling while my heart pounded in my ears.