Chapter 27 #2
I pause when I reach his desk, and he shakes his head at me. “Nuh uh,” he tsks. “This side.” He points to the floor in front of him.
Rounding his desk, I stop short when I see what’s waiting for me on the other side.
“Blake,” I breathe, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”
“Apology not accepted, Trace. Now bend over the desk.”
I eye the rope on the chair behind him, my body buzzing in a combination of dread and anticipation. I can’t decide if I’m turned on or terrified, and a shiver runs down my spine.
Blake steps into me, his chest close enough to mine that every inhale has my breasts brushing against him. He towers over me, and when I peer up at him, his face is hard and closed off, the promise of something dark and dangerous lurking in his eyes.
Swallowing, I decide that terror is winning out over lust.
Until he reaches up and grabs my throat, his thumb rubbing gently over my skin, and I can’t help the way that my body leans into him, into the touch, into the electricity flowing between us.
“Bend over the desk, sunshine,” he murmurs, his deep voice full of wicked promise. “Show me that you can be a good girl.”
Clamping my mouth shut around a groan, I shift on my feet, my thighs rubbing together in a sad attempt to calm the ache building between my legs.
Blake smirks. “Do you like that? Do you like the idea of being my good girl? Of being my good little whore?”
“Uh huh,” I mumble, and as soon as the sound leaves my lips, I know I’m done for.
He leans in, his lips grazing my ear, as his grip on my throat tightens. “Then bend. The fuck. Over.”
A chill runs down my spine at the harshness of his words, and before I can react, his grip leaves my throat and he spins me, pushing me down against his desk. His hand finds the back of my neck and he pins me there, my chest pressed flat against the cool wooden surface.
I wiggle, trying to lift myself up as my hands slide across the polished surface, but he just applies more pressure, his fingertips biting into my skin hard enough to leave bruises.
“If you want any chance of walking out of this office, you won’t move from this position,” he says, his voice eerily level.
I still, my entire body going rigid at his words. “What are you going to do? Cut my legs out from under me? News flash: you’ve already done that, asshole.”
The bastard laughs and leans over me, his breath tickling my ear and his weight at my back.
“No, sweetheart. This time, I’ll fuck this cunt.
” He trails his free hand up the back of my thigh and under my dress, his fingers igniting my skin wherever they touch, and then he cups my pussy harshly.
“I’ll bring you to the edge over and over again until your legs can’t even support you.
Until you’re a sobbing mess, begging me to let you come.
And then, if you’re a good little whore, I’ll give you what you want.
Because only good girls get to come, Trace.
And it’s about fucking time you learned that. ”
I can’t help the whimper that escapes at his words and my clit throbs—despite the fact that he’s threatening to not even let me come.
Still, when he stands and lets go of my neck, I don’t move.
He brushes the hair out of my face, then slowly slides his hand down my spine as he steps away, the gestures soothing. “That’s my good girl,” he purrs. “Hold still for me, sweetheart.”
My blood heats at his praise, and I hold perfectly still, being his good girl.
I hear the rustle of fabric as Blake moves behind me, and I turn my head to the other side, watching as he grabs the length of rope, then walks to the other side of the desk until he’s standing directly in front of me.
I push up on my hands so I can watch him, but he reaches out and presses me back down flat, my cheek hitting the cool surface.
“If you want to come, don’t move.” He grabs my hands, sliding them forward until they’re both outstretched in front of me at an angle.
He ties the rope around one of my wrists and tugs, the material biting into my flesh, and I let out a hiss. “Too tight?” he asks.
My cheek slides against the desk as I nod. “Yes.”
“Good.” He pulls on the rope and I yelp when he stretches my arm out toward the corner of the desk, the material burning against my skin as he ducks down and disappears from sight.
“What the hell, Blake,” I snap, and push up with my free hand, righting myself the best I can with one arm. “That fucking hurt.” I try to pull away, except the rope catches, like he’s tied it to the corner of his desk.
Blake stands back up, the corner of his mouth tipped up at an evil slant. “I never said it wouldn’t.”
“You also said if I listened I’d get to come,” I bite back.
“And yet, here you are, not listening.” He taps two fingers against the surface of the desk, the small movement somehow incredibly threatening. “Bend back over.”
“No,” I protest. “Untie me.”
“Hmmm, now where have I heard that before?”
I freeze as realization dawns on me.
I am so fucking stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Letting him get me into the same situation I had him in yesterday. Only this time, I’m afraid he’s not going to be as generous as I was. “You’re not going to let me come, are you?”
“Not a chance in hell.” He reaches forward, grabbing my free arm before I can even try to back away—though I’m not sure where I’d even go given I already have one arm tied to his desk.
I tug on my arm, I twist it, I try to wrench it free from his grasp, but he holds it tight, working the rope around my wrist and then walking over to the other corner of his desk.
He pulls the rope taut, and I have no choice but to fall forward again, the rope stretching me out and into a ‘Y’ shape on his desk. My breasts are squished beneath me, and it’s only because I’m wearing heels that my feet even hit the floor in this position.
The ledge of his desk digs into my hips, and when he gives another tug on the rope, it pulls me in even tighter to it, the wood painfully grinding into my hip bones.
I squirm, trying to find a comfortable position, but it’s futile, the ropes holding me captive.
Blake rises from his spot on the floor and circles the desk until he’s behind me again. His hands trail up the backs of my thighs, and he grabs the hem of my dress, pulling it up until I feel the cool air against my ass.
“Are you ready to start?” he asks, his hands coming to my ass and running gently over my skin, his calluses rough against my soft flesh.
“Start what?” I ask, my mind delirious, lost to the sensation of his hands on me. My body betraying all reason and sinking into the feel of him.
“Your lesson.” He grabs my hips and grinds into my ass, pressing his rock hard erection into me. “It’s time to show you what happens when you’re a bad girl.”