Chapter 25
Lucy
I swallow, but my throat is dry. Mateo's hand presses against my sternum, again pushing me against the fridge. Fear spikes, and it's thrilling. He probably is mad, not just for pretend. I promised him I'd keep it on me more, he didn't like that I was walking around the city or going for runs without it. He worries about me.
I know he'd never hurt me out of anger, but the intensity of his words, the fierce expression on his face as he looks down at me, floods my panties. Heart racing, I fidget in place.
"You ready for your punishment, mi corazón ?"
I swallow again. I love this game. But something tells me this will be a little different from the others we've played. I glance behind Mateo and see Noah and Silas watching on, both looking decidedly wolfish, with wide stances, Noah clenching his fists at his sides, Silas with his arms crossed, eyes bearing down on me.
I don't know what possesses me—one second, I'm getting lust-drunk on the way they all look at me, ready to let them ravish me, the next, I'm sprinting, the urge to run beating at my primal instincts. Dropping down out of Mateo's grasp, I duck past Silas, nearly colliding with Noah, but he doesn't snatch me up in time, either. Down the hall I run, skidding to a stop then rushing into my bedroom.
They prowl after me like predators, and I barely make it into the bedroom before arms wrap around my waist and I'm flung up into the air.
I don't know who takes what off. In a frenzy, I'm freed of my clothes, someone tearing at my panties, ripping them clean off, while my bra strap is torn, my shirt ripped and before I knew it, I'm flailing, fighting against the three of them.
It felt so good, so exciting to feel terrified for real, even for a split second. I bucked and kneed, but stood no chance against the three of them.
One set of arms roughly grips mine, holding them behind my back. The only words spoken are Noah, reminding me to please use my safe word, Pineapple, if I needed it. We'd practiced with the predator and prey role over the last few weeks, a little bit. Not like this. This felt urgent, salacious.
Mateo stalks around the room, calm and in control, while Silas and Noah hold me down. I wiggle and buck against them, but they're both too strong, and I barely move. Mateo disappears into the walk-in closet, returning with a large black duffel bag. He sets it on the ground and I watch as he pulls items out, things I don't recognize, apart from the last, that looks disturbingly like a riding crop.
My heart beats so fast, I swear you could see it pound at my chest. Naked, while the three of them are fully clothed, holding me down is terrifyingly exciting. I'm so wet, but no one's touching me between my legs. I don't mind yet, because I know whatever comes next is going to change me.
Mateo pulls some kind of T-shaped metal bar out of the bag, with four sets of cuffs attached to it. My mind races, trying to picture what it's for, but I'm distracted when Mateo hits me with a scorching glare.
"Very bad girl, running from us. I always thought you were such a good girl, mi corazón , but you like to be bad, don't you?"
My throat is dry, which is weird because I feel like I'm salivating, when he comes closer. His eyes never leave mine, and he looks demonic, the way his dark, nearly black eyes sear into me. He roughly pulls one of my arms from my back where Noah holds them in place, and wraps my wrist in a cuff attached to the bar. Once it's secure, he locks in the other.
Noah moves from behind my back and shoves me onto the bed. I bounce in place, but can't adjust myself because my arms are locked into the shorter end of the T bar. He pulls me forward so my ass is on the edge of the bed, then climbs behind me to hold me upright and in place.
Silas, holding my legs, helps Mateo strap each of my ankles into the long end of the metal bar, so I'm spread open wide with my knees bent. It's so demeaning, the way I'm shackled and exposed, but I don't feel degraded or ashamed. I feel cherished.
Mateo picks up the riding crop and slaps the flat end in his palm. "Do you like running from us?"
When I don't answer, already lost to the haze, he brings the flat end down on my thigh. It stings, sharp and quick, and I curse.
"Answer me, mi corazón ."
"I-I, umm… yes. Yes, I like running from you."
"Good girl." I preen as he praises me for answering, and I'm rewarded when Noah, holding me up from behind, reaches around and massages my breasts. His fingertips pull my nipples into peaks, tugging gently, before releasing them.
Moaning against him, I miss Mateo's next question and am rewarded with another sharp slap on my opposite thigh.
"Wha?" I manage, but he hits me with the crop again. Each slap sends my pussy into spasm, and I'm starting to feel how empty it is, how wet and aching.
"I said, why did you turn your phone off?" Mateo stands tall, watching me almost callously, with a strange sort of indifference. His stoicism is so fierce, I nearly believe the role play, and it scares me even more.
I forgot for a second all about my phone. Why did I turn it off? Oh, right. My professional life was imploding, again. "I was upset," I tell him.
This time, Silas rewards me by circling my clit with his thumb. I moan and try to squirm closer, but I can't move. There's no relief, I can't even press my legs together the way I'm restrained and bared open.
"When you're upset, you're supposed to call me."
"I-I didn't want to bother you."
Thwack . This time, the crop slaps higher up my thigh. Thwack , he hits me twice more. I'm dripping wet. My pussy clenches, begging for something, anything, any kind of touch.
"You are supposed to call me if you need me. You call me, Noah or Silas. This wasn't some misunderstanding, or fleeting anxiety. Something really shitty happened, and you should have called me. At least texted to say you were okay."
"I'm-I'm sorry," I gasp. Silas spreads my pussy lips and I have no time to mentally prepare before the crop comes down on my pussy, slapping and stinging my clit. I nearly burst, so close to coming, but I cry out in pleasure, "Please, please touch me. I need more. I need more," I beg.
"Are you sorry?"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I cry, when he slaps my pussy again. I try to inch closer to Silas, who's holding me open but not touching me where I need it. God I fucking need it.
"Please, touch me, Silas. I need more," I sob.
His honey-brown eyes caress over my state of complete submission, and he sneers cruelly. "Baby, you look so good trussed up like this. But I think you still need punishment before we tease this sweet little clit."
Yes, punish me , I silently beg. Noah pushes further back on the bed and they roll me over. It's so fucking demeaning, I really am trussed up like a turkey, but the thoughts disappear when, ass up, the leather riding crop comes down hard on my ass.
I hear rustling of belts, the crop slapping the back of my thigh, so close to where I need it, when suddenly, someone enters me. Thrusting in with force, I can feel the metal of their belt against my ass. I don't even know who's fucking me, I can't see, but I think it's Silas. His hands grip my hips and he pounds into me, my face bobbing in Noah's lap. He's still fully clothed, silently watching his brothers mark me up and fuck me hard and deep.
My wrists and ankles tug against the restraints, but I can't do a single thing but take it. It's exquisite. All I can do is feel. I'm so close, but I want to angle my body, my orgasm building hard and fast but just out of reach. Whoever is inside me bucks harder, bruising my ass with their pelvis, and with three final, punishing thrusts, they come inside me. There's no reprieve when the other takes his place and again, I'm stuck, ass up, taking it hard in my pussy.
Periodically slapping my tender ass and thighs, my entire body is about to fall apart. My skin is like a live wire, my brain is lost and come-drunk as they fill me up, and I can tell whoevers inside of me is about to climax by the rapid, grunting, relentless pace.
I don't know who's fucking me, and I love it. They don't say anything, so I can't tell, even though I have my guesses, but whoever it is feels so big and so good. Each slide in and out of me wrenches all my thoughts right out of my body. I take a gasping breath, face buried as it is in Noah's fully clothed lap. He holds my shoulders down so each thrust from the others pushes against him. I'm nothing but a sex toy right now. I am no one, and I'm everything, all at once.
My brain shuts off and I float into ecstasy. My fleeting orgasm from earlier transformed into a full body high, and I feel pleasure coming out of every pore. It's bone deep and visceral.
The body at my ass thrusts up then shakes. With final, rapid pumps, he fills me. When he pulls out, I feel their combined come and my pussy juice dripping out of me, slicking up my thighs.
Noah, my sweet Noah, grips my shoulders, then rolls my body once more. I barely notice both Silas, without pants, still wearing a t-shirt, and Mateo, fully clothed but unbuckled, his still half-hard cock swinging freely between his legs. I'm too gone, too brain and boneless. And I haven't even come.
Noah doesn't take off the restraints like I thought he would. He turns to the guys and asks them to leave us. With a kiss at my temple, both Silas and Mateo walk away, leaving me alone with Noah.
He looks down at my complete state of disarray. My hair is sweaty and matted. My pussy red and raw from being fucked hard and fast.
Noah brushes my hair away from my face. "You're so fucking beautiful, Lucy."
I whimper against his touch. He leans down and kisses me, tongue sweeping against mine. It fills me back up, after they broke me down and took me apart.
I feel alive. Electric. Noah doesn't break the kiss except to pull his shirt off. He undresses, and while I'm still tied to the spreader bar, he enters me slowly, still caressing my tongue with his. He pumps, shallowly at first, and I squirm. My full body high has dissipated and now all I want is an orgasm. As if he knows just where my brain went, his fingers come down and in circles, rubs my clit. Gentle at first, so slippery from all the sex and fluid, but he finds the friction and I cry out with every pass.
"You're entitled to your privacy, Lucy. You don't have to tell us every time someone hurts your feelings or makes you upset. We want to know, but we won't pressure you. But today was different. I don't want to see you like that again. You nearly passed out when you got home. I was so worried."
"I'm sorry," I croak. "I'm not used to sharing my stress."
"I know, baby. I forgive you."
"I won't do it again," I swear.
"Yes, you will. And it's okay. I love you anyway."
He keeps fucking me while we stare into each other's eyes, and when the pleasure builds higher, his fingers work faster, and then it's there, set off like a firecracker, bright and intense, consuming and tracing every nerve pathway in my body. Starting at my clit, the orgasm explodes out of me and I can't contain my scream. He doesn't relent the pace, and after his own body pulls taut and he grunts and comes inside me, he quickly pulls out, then furiously works my clit, never relenting.
It starts again, this strange feeling, and urge to release, almost like I need to pee. But the pleasure is too big, too full. He keeps his fingers flat and keeps rubbing, faster, stopping only once to slap my clit, then rubs again, up and down, side to side, and though I never stopped coming, it erupts out of me. I squirt all over myself and him, crying and coming, shaking, my body and brain emptying of every single thought.
We fall into a panting, sweaty silence. I think I laugh. I think I'm crying, too.
Noah releases the restraints, and I barely noticed how uncomfortable the position was until I'm able to stretch out again and I moan with a new kind of pleasure. Noah disappears into the bathroom, but I call out, "Shower."
The tub turns off, and I hear the sounds of the shower take its place. "You sure?" He asks when he returns to the bedroom, and effortlessly picks me up, carrying me bridal style into the bathroom.
"I think hot and cold water would be good."
He nods in understanding, helping me into the shower, where he meticulously washes my body and my hair. When he's done, I tug the hair tie out of his, which often sits in a knot at the nape of his neck, and run my fingers through the strands. He lets me wash his hair in exchange, and it feels so relaxing, taking care of each other. I ask him to run the water cold before we get out and it helps wake me up out of the drunken post sex stupor.
I think the cold water helps with the tenderness where Mateo slapped me with the riding crop, too. When we climb out of the shower, Noah insists on rubbing muscle oil into my legs and hips, which will help with bruising. I like the bruising, but I don't argue.
On his hands and knees, with tremendous care, he massages my aches away and I can't help but think: this man . Noah. He's mine. He's… extraordinary. I reach down, and grip the back of his neck, and he looks up, his hazel eyes hitting mine. Crouching down to meet him eye to eye, I kiss him lightly, and lean in to kiss his neck, then whisper in his ear, "I love you too."
He smiles against me, and it's almost better that we carry on the way we were. A little interlude with reverent declarations, weaving seamlessly into our lives.
We find Mateo and Silas in the kitchen making dinner a few minutes later.
"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Silas asks, a look of concern on his face, in complete juxtaposition with the creature who dominated me in the bedroom.
"I'm amazing."
"We weren't too hard on you?"
"Not even a little. I know my safe word. It didn't hurt… well, it did, but it felt good. It's hard to explain."
"And you don't need to." He kisses me again and returns to the sink.
Mateo wraps his arms around me, pulling me in for a hug, swaying back and forth until we're nearly dancing. Mateo doesn't dance, but here in our kitchen, after what they just put my body through, is the right time to start.
"How are you feeling about what happened earlier?"
"Which part?"
"All that shit she said about you online."
I tense for a second, but find the worry falling away like water off a duck, and relax back into him, hugging him tighter. "I'm angry about it. But less upset. I don't know what the aftermath will be, but I'll deal with it."
" We'll deal with it," Noah corrects me.
With Mateo still hugging me close, we stop swaying in place and I pull back a little to see Noah and Silas plating what looks like pasta and red sauce with garlic bread.
A month ago, I'd have counted every calorie on that plate.
Another concern over my weight and how I looked on camera, guised as good health. I don't need to eat pasta and bread everyday. But I'm going to enjoy the shit out of anything my men cook for me.
My life is too good to worry about what other people think of me.
I'm healthy. I'm happy. Correction, I'm so fucking happy, my heart feels like it could burst with emotion.
I love them. All of them.
Maybe my love for Noah and Silas is still growing, taking root, but it's just as real as what I feel for Mateo.
This here, this is my family. My life. My happy place.