Chapter 6 Noelle
NOELLE
“Why are you smiling like that?” Roman asks, still glaring, his big body practically vibrating with anger. “This isn’t fucking funny, Noelle. If you think I’m going to let that guy—”
“I don’t,” I say quickly, moving to my knees to bring myself closer to him. “I knew you wouldn’t want anyone else to touch me. That’s why I was so confused you didn’t want to participate in the game.”
He sighs, some of the tension melting off him. “I didn’t fully understand the rules. I thought everyone was just getting some dumb sex toy—Doms included. Like a party favor.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Did you see what I got as my present?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Yes.”
“Did you want to…” I swallow, feeling shy suddenly. “Did you want to try it out first? Or did you want to build up to it…”
I snap my mouth closed when I realize he’s staring at me with something akin to horror. “What?”
“I’m not using that thing on you,” he spits.
I blink up at him. “Well, um, there’s probably other toys in this room if you don’t like the candy cane.”
He stands up straighter, putting distance between us, that horrified look still on his face. “I’m not using any toys on you. I’m not fucking you, Noelle, are you insane?”
I just stare at him, not comprehending. “But you…you said you were choosing me?”
His hands make an angry motion toward the door. “To get you out of there. To keep you safe from that asshole.” He lets out a bitter laugh. “I’m not about to subject you to someone even worse.”
“Hang on.” My head is spinning. Confusion and something like fear are twisting in my gut. “Are you seriously telling me we’re not…we’re not going to do anything tonight?”
He grits his teeth, that muscle going in his jaw again. “Of course not.”
Suddenly, a swell of anger rises up in me, obliterating the confusion and fear. He cannot be serious right now.
I jump to my feet than immediately wish I hadn’t—I barely come up to his chest when I’m standing. At least kneeling on the bed gave me a few extra inches.
“So what?” I snap. “You planned for us to just sit in here for the next hour?”
He shrugs, looking pissed off all over again. “Seems like as good a plan as any.”
I stare at him for a long moment, trying to wrap my mind around this behavior. “I must be confused,” I mutter, rubbing my forehead. “You’re saying you don’t want Matthew to touch me tonight.” He growls at that but I ignore him. “But you don’t want to touch me either?”
“I didn’t say that,” he grits out.
“You just—”
“I said I wasn’t going to touch you. Not that I didn’t want to.”
His words from a few moments ago streak through my mind. “I’m not about to subject you to someone even worse.”
Does he think I don’t want him? That I would consider him a worse match than Matthew?
“Roman,” I start, stepping toward him, but he steps back just as quickly, like he’s afraid of letting me get close.
“I wanted you to play Secret Santa with us tonight, Roman. I was sad when you didn’t.” He winces at that but I continue. “Do you know why?” He just stares at me, not offering any answer. “I was sad because I didn’t want to spend this night with anyone but you.”
All the air seems to rush out of him. “Noelle—”
“When you hinted that you hoped to see me in that booth last week—” again he winces, “—I was happy because you were the only one I wanted to spend the night with.” His only reaction is the tightening of his fists at his side.
“Don’t you get it? I want you. I always want you.
” I let out a shaky little laugh. “God, I’ve wanted you from the beginning. ”
Suddenly he’s standing inches away, his hands gripping my shoulders. “You shouldn’t say that.” His voice is low, dangerous.
My own voice shakes. “Why not? It’s the truth.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grits out, and fresh anger surges in me. I shake him off.
“You don’t get to tell me what I do and don’t want, Roman.”
“You shouldn’t want me,” he insists. “Fuck, Noelle, you don’t even know me.”
“Whose fault is that?” I shoot back. “You’re the one who’s always putting distance between us. Who’s always shutting me down when I try to talk to you.”
“I’m fucking protecting you!” he bursts out.
“From what?”
“From me!”
Silence falls between us as we stand there, staring at each other, both breathing heavily, both tense and angry.
“Why do you think I need to be protected from you?” I finally manage to get out.
He shakes his head, frustrated. “I’m not right for you. I’m a grumpy, moody, inconsiderate asshole.”
“You’ve always been considerate of me,” I argue.
“You’ve always treated me well. Better than any other Dom at this club.
” He snarls at that—literally bares his teeth at me, and I let out a bitter laugh.
“Look at you! You can’t even stand to hear me talk about any other Dom.
So why won’t you just admit that you want me? ”
“Of course I want you,” he snaps, and my heart swells with hope. He crushes it immediately. “But that doesn’t change anything. Nothing is happening between us. Not tonight. Not ever.”
My stomach drops at his words, at the look on his face.
He’s always been stoic, sometimes even cold, but I’ve never seen him look as shut-down and unmovable as he does right now.
He’s not going to change his mind. I can see it in his face.
For whatever reason, he thinks we shouldn’t be together. And there’s nothing I can do about it.
Rejection crashes through me, making my knees feel unsteady and my eyes sting with tears. I refuse to cry though, not in front of him.
“Fine,” I say, running a shaking hand up to smooth my hair, trying to regain some composure before I leave this room. “Fine. I’ll see you around, Roman.”
I’ve barely taken two steps toward the door before his hand is on my arm, stopping me. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“I’m leaving.”
His hand tightens. “Like hell you are.”
I refuse to look up at him, even though he’s only inches away from me now, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. What I wouldn’t give to feel all that heat, all his strength, wrapped around me in his arms.
“You said yourself,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “Nothing is going to happen between us.” I finally give in to the pull to look up and meet his eyes. Their blue depths are darker than I’ve ever seen them. “So I’m going to go find someone else.”
His head jerks back, like I struck him, but I refuse to drop my gaze, refuse to back down.
“No.” His voice is low and demanding, a clear Dominant’s order to obey him.
But he doesn’t have that power over me. Oh, I’d give it to him. All he has to do is ask, and I’d promise to follow his every command. But he doesn’t want that from me. He might not want anyone else to touch me, but he also doesn’t want to be my Dom.
“It’s not up to you,” I say.
His grip on my arm tightens and he brings his face closer to mine. “Fuck that. I won you tonight, remember? Your time is mine.”
I laugh—actually laugh, even in the midst of all this anger and hurt.
“First of all, you didn’t win me. You weren’t playing the game, Roman.
” He opens his mouth to argue but I barge on.
“And secondly, you just said you aren’t going to touch me.
That means you forfeited your time with me tonight.
” I shake his hand off. “So I’m going to go find someone who won’t push me away. ”
There’s a beat of silence and my breath catches a little at the anger I see building in his eyes. He’s been pissed off the whole night but right now, his control seems to be hanging on by a thread.
“You aren’t leaving this room.” His big body crowds me, pushing me back toward the door, caging me in when my back touches the wood behind me. “I will fucking tie you to that bed before I let you go to some other bastard.”
I glare at him. “That’s exactly what I want, you idiot! Tie me to the bed! Cuff my hands! Spank me for disobeying you. Just fucking do something! Give me what I need.” When he doesn’t move, I groan in frustration. “Or let me leave and find someone else who will.”
I can see the exact moment he decides, the moment the dam seems to break and his control goes out the window. There’s a flash in his wild blue eyes and then, suddenly, I’m in the air again, this time pressed close to the front of his body as he takes the few steps back to the bed.
“You think you’re in charge?” he asks as he drops me on the mattress, already reaching for the straps hidden under the pillows. He works quickly, securing each of my wrists to the headboard. “You think you get to threaten me, make me jealous, and I’ll just do whatever you want?”
Part of me wants to point out that he basically is doing exactly what I asked for, but I’m enjoying this way too much to rock the boat.
He’s so unbelievably beautiful to me in this moment, exerting his control, putting me in my place.
There’s so much barely restrained strength in his body that I know I couldn’t fight back against him, even if I wanted to.
And I very much don’t want to.
“I just want you,” I tell him, my voice a needy whine. “Please, Roman.”
He brings his face close to mine, so close our lips could touch if he only moved an inch.
“Well bad girls don’t get what they want,” he says in a deadly calm voice.
Then he’s flipping me onto my stomach, making my arms cross over my head where they’re secured to the headboard.
Before I can react, before I can do anything, I feel cool air on my bottom as my dress is hiked up.
“God damn,” he mutters behind me. I’m wearing a skimpy thong so I know he can see almost every inch of my bare skin. The vulnerability of being on display for him makes me shiver in pleasure. “This ass is so fucking perfect.”
I twist my head, trying to see him over my shoulder, but a sharp slap to my ass stops me cold. “You said you wanted a spanking?” he asks in that same deadly calm voice. “I think you’re going to change your mind about that pretty soon.”
“Roman—”
“Quiet,” he barks. “You’re going to take your punishment like a good girl.” Then he starts to spank me in earnest, no break between the stinging blows. He isn’t going easy on me, isn’t giving me a chance to warm up to it. This isn’t a teasing little game—it hurts.
“You can do better than that,” he chides when I try to squirm away from him. “I’ve seen you take much more painful implements than a hand.” Then he’s straddling my thighs, keeping me pinned below his weight so I can’t wiggle or thrash as he continues to spank me.
“Like that time I saw you take a paddle to the ass and thighs on that spanking bench in the theater. Or the riding crop last spring. Or the cane in the dungeon.” He leans over me, chest pressing into my back, and brings his face close to mine.
“Every single damn time, Noelle. I remember them all. Every time I had to watch other men touch you. Punish you. Put their marks on you. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”
“I wanted it to be you,” I sob against the pillow. “I always wanted it to be you.”
“Fuck,” he groans, then he’s kneeling once again, more blows raining down on my ass. “You have no idea how good you look with my handprints on you. So fucking beautiful.”
“Roman, please,” I beg.
“You want me to stop?” he taunts.
“No! God, please don’t stop.”
“Wasn’t planning on it, angel.” He spanks me again and again. It feels so amazingly good, better than any spanking I’ve ever had. Because it’s him, my heart sings. It should have always been him.
“Please,” I beg again.
“You said you didn’t want me to stop.” His tone is easy, conversational, like he isn’t currently inflicting the most intense spanking of my life. “So what are you begging for?”
“Touch me!”
He pauses, the blows stopping. I can’t even hear him breathing anymore. A surge of fear whips through me—did I push him too far? Is he going to stop now? Is he going to—
“Oh my god,” I cry as two thick fingers plunge into me.
“Damn it, angel,” he groans, pushing my thong to the side to give him better access. “You’re so wet.”
“Yes.”
“This is for me?” He thrusts his fingers harder, deeper. “All this sweet wetness?”
“All of it is for you, Roman.”
Another sharp smack on my bottom even as the fingers on his other hand continue to press into me. The dual sensation is so good I could come, just from this. “You call me sir,” he growls, and tears come to my eyes.
Doesn’t he understand that it’s what I’ve always wanted to call him?
Not just in the viewing booth with a glass wall in between us.
Not just in the main lounge when I’m serving drinks to him and the other Doms. But here, like this, just the two of us.
Him touching me, controlling me, punishing me.
I’ve wanted him to be my sir, to be my master, for so long.
“Yes, sir,” I murmur, and the words feel like freedom on my tongue.
“You need to come, don’t you?” he asks, adding a third finger, making me cry out. “You’re so needy for me, angel.”
“Always, sir. You make me feel so good.”
“You think any other man in this place could make you feel like this?” He smacks me again, somehow even harder, as his three fingers continue to thrust in an unrelenting pace. “You think anyone else could do this to you?”
“No! No one else, I swear.” I have to fight against the urge to come. It’s all so good—the spanking and his fingers and the low rasping demand of his voice as he lays claim to me. He’s right—no other man could ever make me feel like this.
“Then be my good girl,” he growls. “And show me how good it feels when I make you come.”
It happens instantly, my entire body breaking out into white hot sparks, electric pulses slamming into my pussy as my limbs go rigid and pleasure explodes in my core.
It goes on for endless minutes, this overwhelming pleasure, so strong I can’t catch my breath, can’t see beyond the stars erupting in my vision.
It’s almost scary, the intensity of the pleasure, but hearing his soothing, encouraging voice behind me keeps me from panicking.
He talks me through it, calling me his good girl, telling me I’m taking it so well, insisting I’m beautiful and good and so perfect for him.
I melt into the mattress with those sweet and dirty words ringing in my ears, more satisfied than I’ve ever been in my life.