Chapter 47
Chapter Forty-Seven
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Brushing the hair off my face, I pace Theo’s bedroom.
My hands are still shaking even an hour later.
I put Oscar to bed—he’s taking it much better than I am—and came straight in here, unable to walk out into the living room.
I trust Theo, and if he says we’re safe, I know we are.
It was just a scary fucking situation to be in.
As soon as I heard the punches from the other room, I grabbed Oscar and ran to the furthest room in the apartment. I’d even shoved him under the bed while I armed myself with a hairbrush. Don’t ask me why, it was the first thing I picked up since my mind wasn’t exactly engaging.
The last time I’d been this scared was… the door opens, and I glance up to see Theo walking in, looking like a god. His hair swings around his shoulders as he stalks toward me with a dark glint in his eyes.
“Are you okay?” I ask, rushing to him. “Do you know what it was all about?”
“Harper.”
Realization dawns on me that this was because of her. “We’re getting closer, then?”
“Apparently so,” he muses, still piercing me with that dark look.
“Theo? Are you okay?” I tilt my head questioningly.
“Oscar in bed?” he asks, ignoring me.
“Yeeees,” I draw the word out, my eyebrow raised.
“Good.”
He tackles me before I can get another word out, and I shriek as he picks me up and throws me on the bed. “Theo!” I exclaim, pushing the wayward hair out of my face. “What’s going on right now? I mean, not that I’m not loving this, but what—”
He growls at me as he places one knee onto the bed slowly before adding his other one and crawling toward me.
His eyes are dark, the pupils blown wide as he looks at me.
My breath leaves me as I wait to see what he’ll do.
I know he’d never hurt me, but he seems unhinged right now, and I can’t figure out whether I like the idea or not.
My pussy doesn’t share my indecision, though, throbbing in time with my heart and slick with my need for him.
“Something could have happened to you tonight. You could have been hurt. You could have been taken, or you could have been fucking killed,” he chokes the last part out, and my heart breaks.
He feels out of control, and he needs to get it back.
“It’s okay, big guy. I’m here.” I reach up to cup his face, my eyes soft as I whisper, “I’m yours. Take what you need.”
“Arms up,” he commands, a dark edge to his voice.
My body obeys immediately, not even questioning him as I grip onto the wooden headboard and wrap my hands around the spindles.
Theo’s nose grazes my leg as he moves up the length of me before settling on the apex of my thighs and breathing deeply.
I blush; I can’t help it. It’s such an intimate act.
Not that we haven’t been intimate before, but I haven’t showered yet today and probably smell.
I go to move my hands to stop him, but a deep rumble in his throat makes me pause. Theo’s head snaps up, his eyes narrowing as he says, “Don’t. Even. Think. About. It.”
I gulp, swallowing slowly at his dominance. I love both sides of him—the one that wants to please me and will let me do anything I want to him and the one that takes command without batting an eyelid.
My chest heaves up and down. He hasn’t even freaking touched me yet, and I’m about to combust. Luckily, Oscar is down the hall and sleeps like the dead. I do not want him walking in on this.
“Did you lock the door?” I manage to get out over my breathlessness.
“I did. Now, be a good girl and lie still,” he murmurs before reaching for the bedside table.
I tilt my head to the side, watching what he does. His face gives nothing away as he rummages around, looking for whatever it is he needs. Finally, his hand comes away with a blindfold and a pair of handcuffs.
Jesus fucking Christ, I’m definitely in trouble.
But my traitorous pussy rubs her hands in glee, ready and waiting for what he has in store. My nipples pebble in anticipation, and my mouth dries.
Theo sits up on his knees, drops the handcuffs on the bed, and leans forward. I eye the blindfold like it’s my enemy. I don’t like not being able to see what’s happening, but I trust him… I think.
He doesn’t utter a word as he gently lifts my head and places the blindfold on.
My breathing gets faster when darkness surrounds me.
Everything suddenly seems louder—the ticking of the clock on the wall I’ve only just noted, the rustle of the sheets as I shift around.
I don’t know how much more I can cope with.
Next come the handcuffs. I hear them clinking together as he holds them, the thought scaring me yet exciting me at the same time.
I clench my thighs together, the ache between them becoming unbearable. At this rate, even just one touch to any part of my body will have me detonating like fireworks on the Fourth of July. But I think that’s what he’s after. Either that or he wants to kill me slowly with orgasms.
I’m going to die from orgasms, I know it.
He places the cuffs on my wrists, not too tight but enough that when I pull, I can’t move very far.
My breath quickens into soft, short bursts.
The bed dips, and I know he’s left. He could be sitting in the chair in the corner of the room, leaving me here for hours, or he could be going to get something and will be back within minutes. Who knows.
The silence is deafening as I lie here, waiting, wondering. I tug on the cuffs, hoping by magic they’ll release, but no such luck. A creak in the floorboards has me stopping to holding my breath. My clit only throbs harder, my nipples so hard they could cut glass.
A hand starts at my ankle, gently gliding across my skin. I’m so alert to my surroundings that even through my clothes I can feel his touch as if he were caressing my bare skin. My back bows off the bed, desperately seeking more.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he whispers. “Needy girls don’t get to come.”
I can’t help myself as I fire back, “You’re a fine one to talk.”
A slap to the side of my breast has me clamping my mouth closed. The tingle from his hand reverberates through my body. I pant, caught between wanting to push him more to see what he’ll do and keeping quiet.
A tug on the hem of my T-shirt has me freezing in place. His hands glide up the side of my body, taking the shirt with it. My back bows automatically to help him remove it, but the cuffs are there. Theo tucks the shirt under my chin, my bra-covered breasts now exposed to him.
I feel his hands tugging at my jeans, so I lift my hips to help, my matching black thong on show. I can hear the soft thud of my jeans landing on the floor before Theo’s right back on me, his head between my thighs, inhaling deeply again.
My pussy aches for him, throbbing with an intensity that takes my breath away, shouting, Please, please, touch me. I’d say the words out loud, but I’m pretty sure he’d just edge me further to elongate the torture.
A finger glides ever so slowly up the seam of my lace-covered entrance.
My legs part of their own accord, allowing him better access.
Theo gently pushes my thong to the side, and I sigh at the cool air hitting my clit.
I bite my lip, desperately trying to hold back the plea that’s on the tip of my tongue—just fuck me already.
As if he heard me, he inserts a finger so achingly slow I can’t help but let out a loud moan.
Finally!