Chapter Nineteen #2
“I would never put Casey in harm’s way.”
“Maybe not consciously. But you did. I will say, I don’t think you would put her in a situation you didn’t know you couldn’t get her out of.”
“How could you say such a thing?”
“Admit it, Jay. You wanted to be caught—to be punished. And you’ve wanted me to be the one to do it for so long. You are a little masochist. And I’m happy to be your sadist.”
Has he been inside my brain?
“Why haven’t you told anyone what I did?”
He pauses before he answers. “They’d have your head.”
“And you don’t want them to have my head?”
“No.”
“Because . . . you want my head?”
“Absolutely.”
The way he chuckles turns my cheeks red and face hot.
“I didn’t mean it like that!”
“It doesn’t matter what you meant. If I want it, I’ll have it all the same. And I won’t stop there.”
My breath hitches. “What?”
We approach a clearing with a single tree. He sets me down and holds me close to him. My breath hitches.
“I said I was going to devour you. If you think I’m going to stop at your head, you’re in for a rude awakening, baby girl.”
My stomach flutters.
I must be a masochist because with everything he’s suggesting, I’m hoping it’s as rude as can be.
I want this. But my inexperience causes me to giggle nervously. A quick smack to my bottom, and the giggling is contained. I bite my lip.
“You won’t be laughing in a moment,” Caleb growls his dark promise.
Yet a mix of playfulness and an eager desire lingers beneath his threat.
The grassy floor expands further from the tree line as he treks up the hill. When he stops, he lets me slide down his front until he practically drops me, so I’m face to face with him. My back scrapes against what I assume is bark.
I hiss.
Caleb cages me in with his arms. Full of primal need, he stares deep into my eyes.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he starts. “I’m going to tie you to this tree.”
I gulp at the thought of being tied up.
“You’ll have verbal safe words and non-verbal cues. Unless you’re using a safe word, you don’t speak unless spoken to. You do as I say, and you’ll be rewarded. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I say with a shaky breath.
“Good. Yellow is pause. If you say it, I stop for a moment to check in. You might use this word if something doesn’t feel right that might need adjusting, or you need a minute. If you say red, all play stops. I untie you and check in.”
Easy enough.
“You’ll need non-verbal signals. These can be stomps and snaps, depending on what”—he looks me up and down, licking his lips, practically groaning as his eyes flash their wolf’s gold—“predicament I have you in.”
“Predicament? What kind of predicament?”
My mind races at the possibilities.
“Do you understand?” Caleb asks.
I nod.
“That was a question. Speak.”
“Yes . . .”
Caleb peers at me from beneath his dark brows as he retrieves the rope from behind him, waiting for me to address him properly.
“Master,” I add.
I thought the term would trigger me, but there was something healing about it being used in a consensual context. Almost like I’m taking back the word. If I’m honest, it’s been a long time . . . and I want this.
His eyes stay fixed on untangling the rope trailing him, while mine dry out watching his muscles ripple with each rough pull.
“Good girl. Repeat our rules, so I know you understand.”
I lick my lips. “Yellow, pause. Red, stop. Stomps and snaps, check in and discuss the next step.”
Judging by his sly smile, my comprehension is correct. His excitement tells me he wants this, too.
Are we really doing this? Putting aside our hatred for each other if for just a moment to relieve this tension? If so, I’m game. But is it just for a moment? I want to make sure.
“After this, we go back to hating each other.”
“Oh baby, I never stopped. In fact, I’m going to show you just how much I hate you. Lift your arms.” Caleb unbuckles his belt.
The soft clink echoes in the clearing as he does.
I obey and lift my arms.
Caleb grasps the hem of my shirt and peels the article up and over my head.
Suddenly, I’m feeling self-conscious about my average-sized breasts.
I’m one of the unlucky ones to be in-between sizes.
Constantly having to choose between gapping, the band not fitting or my breasts spilling over the cups and the band being too tight.
I’m practically a C, but Bs seem to fit me the best.
Standing in a bra and shorts, Caleb places me where he wants me, I let him secure my arm to the thick branch. Then the other arm. Caleb taps the inside of my thighs instructing me to spread them. When I do, I imagine I look like a scarecrow on display for the birds to taunt. Caleb is the bird.
He reaches into his pants pocket, pulling out a pocketknife. It clicks softly as it opens. Its blade reflects and shines the moonlight at just the right angle. Its jagged edges resonate with me—a tool meant for defense, too often turned into a weapon.
Like a knife, it has an owner—a master—who can choose to wield it for evil.
My enemy doesn’t cause me to flinch like he should. Caleb may be awful, but I’ve met bigger monsters than him. I also know, for some reason, deep down he isn’t going to hurt me. It’s probably the first time someone hasn’t been perceived as a threat to my wolf.
Caleb senses my calm demeanor. He inches the cold blade under the center gore of my bra and pulls me closer to him by it. Inches from my face, he growls. “I’m going to enjoy finding out just how much pain you can take. Would you like that?”
My mouth parts, but I’m too entranced by him to speak. And it’s so like me to struggle to tell the difference between an invitation and a warning.
He raises an eyebrow. “I believe I asked you a question, baby girl. Do I need to repeat myself?”
I shake my head “no” vigorously.
“Then I expect an answer. Do you want to show me how much you can take before you scream for me to be merciful?” He breathes into my neck, encroaching my space but just barely touching me.
I need more. I need him. Now.
“Yes, Master,” I breathe.
Caleb hums. He dips his head down like he’s going to kiss my neck, and my wolf practically rolls over and exposes her belly for him. When I think he’s going to, unexpectedly, and in one swift jerking motion, he cuts my bra.
I gasp.
My breasts fall from their weight, free of its minimal support. My nipples harden instantly as the cool air kisses my skin.
Caleb chuckles softly.
When he disappears behind me, I get a complete view of the clearing. My breath is ripped from my throat. Below, the fatal cliff is stained with dried blood. My head snaps up to the sky as I think about falling to my death, then react instantly.
“Holy shit.”
A slight sting from a hard smack to my bottom follows my curse. “Are you breaking the rules already?”
My heart thumps with how close I am to the edge with a man who has been less than subtle about how much he hates me. “No, Master.”
“I sure hope not. But you should know, second chances aren’t really my thing.” Caleb takes his shirt and creates a makeshift muzzle, gagging me. “You may not be able to speak, but by all means . . .” From behind me, he leans in to whisper, “Scream as much as you want.”
My legs are spread and although free, they tremble with anticipation. I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. The thought occurs to me that I could kick him, break free and run. But something dark inside me wants my captor to touch me.
Slowly, Caleb cuts the rest of my clothes from my body. Completely bare to him, the breeze whispers against my southernmost region. The sensation only increases my eagerness.
He hasn’t touched me yet, and I’m panting.
Caleb rasps in my ear, “Nice ass.”
His words and warm breath against my ear has my eyes fluttering close.
“Mm!”
My eyes shoot open, and I gasp at the feel of a sharp smack against my bottom. The bite from the impact quickly dissipates and spreads into warmth across my skin.
Caleb chuckles. When he returns into view, he’s completely naked. My cheeks are definitely red. And I don’t just mean the ones on my bottom. His cock is impressively thick, long, straight and perfect.
He elongates a claw and drags it down me.
I hiss.
“Oof.” He continues swiping his claw down my leg. He sucks in through his teeth as a groan escapes my lips.
Endorphins flood my senses at each cut.
“If I didn’t know any better”—his eyes darken with lust—“I’d say you liked that.”
I validate him with a moan.
“Yeah? You like a little pain?”
I whimper, “Mm-hmm.”
“Let me see.” He reaches between my legs and brushes my clit.
My flesh is so sensitive my body jolts when he touches me. His finger pushes inside me with a small but delectable stretch.
With a proud chuckle, he says, “Oh . . . You do, don’t you? Such a naughty little girl, hiding what you like from me. I prefer to know everything about my enemy. I’d punish you . . . if you didn’t like it so much.”
I pant when he withdraws his finger, causing my mouth to dry. I lick my lips.
He holds up his finger to show my slick arousal has covered his flesh.
“Come on . . . You can do better than this, can’t you? Won’t you do that for me?”
I nod and agree in a breathy groan. “Yes, Master.”
His hand disappears from my view and two fingers make their way inside me, stroking my innermost self, goading my climax out. A guttural groan escapes my lips.
“I love hearing the sounds you make.”
The pad of his thumb rubs small circles over my clit as he curves and strokes my sex. They’re steady, intentional, and in sync with my body’s orgasmic rhythm.
I thrash against his assailment, ready to surrender to his valiant strategy.
My sex clenches, and I’m seconds away from an orgasm.
Caleb’s eyes remain trained on me as he waits for my disgraceful finish. The next second, he has it.
My mouth forms an O as I unravel. I cry out as the rush floods through me.