Chapter 3 #2
“Where are we?” I ask, my voice hoarse from screaming through the gag.
“Nowhere you need to worry about.” He steps back, grabbing my bound hands in his, and works the knot out. “I’m going to untie you. If you do anything other than what I say, I will punish you, and trust me, you won’t like that.”
Punish me?
Who the fuck says shit like that?
“Do you understand?” he growls at me, his fingers digging into the bones of my wrist.
“Yes,” I yelp and try to peel my wrists from his grasp.
“The proper response from now on is yes, sir.”
Oh, come on. Now he really has to be shitting me. When I don’t respond fast enough, he pinches the skin between my thumb and forefinger until I answer.
“Yes, sir,” I choke out. The pain is gone in an instant.
“Good girl.”
No. My thighs clench together at those two words.
Bad vagina. Bad. That isn’t something I need to be responding to.
Kiernan turns away from me, leaning into the shower, and turns on the spray. “Now, strip.”
Oh, hell no.
“Strip,” he commands again when I remain frozen.
“Excuse me?” I stare at him in disbelief. There is no way in hell I am going to be getting naked in front of this guy. Even if my pussy is throwing a party downtown right now. I’ve only been completely bare in front of one person my entire life and… ugh, fucking Drew.
“Strip, Bailey,” he growls as he begins methodically removing his own clothes, his emerald eyes never leaving mine. “Or I’ll do it for you, and if I have to do it, I’m going to be expecting something for my troubles.”
A frisson of awareness tingles through me at the less than subtle sexual threat. Stupid whiskey.
“I…” My mouth gapes open like a fish out of water as I try to conjure up an excuse. “I don’t need a shower. I’m good. Promise.”
Kiernan snorts.
“You’re covered in vomit, Bailey.” He steps forward, crowding my fully clothed body with his naked one.
Fuck, he is gorgeous. His chiseled torso is painted in a myriad of colorful tattoos.
He is lean but well-muscled with the body of a fighter.
He towers over my petite frame making him look like a giant. “Now, Bailey.”
Kiernan says my name again.
Wait… how does he know my name?
“Your driver’s license.” He smirks down at me. Shit. I didn’t realize I said that aloud.
Slowly, I peel off my black leggings and tank top. He continues to stare at me, heat sweeping up my neck at the hunger in his eyes. He is a predator ready to devour his prey.
“All of it,” he says once I am down to my bra and panties. Swallowing back the unease in my throat, I sigh jaggedly before reaching behind and unlatching my white cotton bra. Boring, I know, but practical.
When I don’t let it drop to the floor, he wraps a giant hand around it and pulls it from my grasp, throwing it aside. He does the same with my underwear.
“Get in.” He motions for me to step inside the large glass enclosure.
The construction of the shower is beautiful.
The main wall is a light, gray-washed vintage tile with blue fleur-de-lis symbols painted on them.
The two smaller walls are tiled with a simple glossy blue to match.
Dark copper fixtures hang high above, creating an almost rainforest-like effect with the water as it cascades down in captivating rivulets.
I brace for the cold as I gingerly step inside but am immediately pleased at how warm the water is. I give myself a moment to bask in the heat, allowing warm water to slide over my cold, tingling skin.
The glass door slides shut, a barely audible click signaling that I am locked inside the shower with no way out. I shut my eyes, not wanting to look at him. I’ve been painfully careful to keep eye contact with him, but now, so close together, it is hard to avoid.
I turn my face away, covering my eyes with my hands, letting the warm water wash over me.
Kiernan snorts almost derisively. “What? Never seen a man’s cock before, lass?”
“I don’t want to see yours,” I sneer, the venom in my voice muffled by my hands. “I just want to leave.”
“You better get used to it, mo fraochún beag.” He leans forward, prying my hands away from my eyes and dragging them down between us until they rest on his thick, heavy cock. “You’ll be getting very familiar with it soon.”
There is no inflection in his voice. The man is serious. His free hand wraps itself in my wet hair, forcing my head to look down. My gaze shifts with the movement until it rests on his muscled legs, his very thick cock hanging heavily between them.
Oh God, is he pierced?
For fuck’s sake.
He forces my hand to run his length, my grip barely fitting around his massive width. I can feel the metal of the balls gliding across my fingers.
My inner hussy is performing her own Cirque du Soleil at the thought.
Traitorous bitch.
“Your job is to listen and obey,” he groans out, quickening the pace of my hand on his silky member. “But we’ll talk more about that later.”
Like hell we will. I shake my head back and forth, tears streaming down my cheeks, but not from him forcing my hand around his length. No. The tears come from the shame that wells up inside of me at how turned on my body has become at his touch.
At me touching him.
Fuck, I need therapy.
If I ever get out of here, I will be getting it.
Lots of it.
“I just want to go home,” I sniffle. The show of vulnerability isn’t completely fake, but it isn’t truthful either. I need him to trust me. I need to slowly make him believe I can be broken. If he lets his guard down, then I can make my escape. “Please…”
Groaning painfully, Kiernan releases his hold on my hand. The hand in my hair tightens, preventing me from retreating.
“This is home now,” he whispers in my ear, fingers dancing along my pussy lips before a low, slow moan escapes me when he circles my clit.
If my face isn’t already red from the heat of the shower, it sure as hell is now.
“And you can either be a good little girl who gets rewarded or a bad little girl who gets punished. Understood?”
I nod, gasping when he increases the speed of his fingers against the little button of pleasure.
“Words, Bailey.”
“Yes, sir,” I breathe.
“Good girl.”
My fucking harlot of a pussy clenches at those two words.
Hussy.
My hands grip his shoulders as my legs shake. His fingers rub me furiously, causing pleasure to roll through my body like a tidal wave. Just before it crests, he stops.
Kiernan chuckles at the small whimper that leaves my lips, then brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting me.
“Delicious, my little whore.” He pulls me out of the shower spray, ignoring my attempts to shove him off. I am not his whore. Growling, he spins me around and slaps his palm onto my ass.
What in holy hellfire?
“Enough,” he growls. “Stand still, or I’ll do more than spank your pert ass.”
Some of the fight leaves me, having been sufficiently cowed at being spanked like an errant child. I nod, chastised, hoping that if I play along just a bit longer, I’ll be free of this prison. All I have to do is wait.