Chapter 12 Obedience #2
The snow melts against my bare skin, shocking yet almost grounding. Patrick has one hand working my pussy while the other reaches up, kneading my right tit. The sensations are overwhelming. His hands are all-consuming, and all I’m aware of is how my body is responding to him.
Worse, it’s getting ready for him.
By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging me for it…
He’s right. Damn it, he’s right. If Patrick unzipped his pants, found a way to join me off of the ground, and started fucking me against the tree…
I’d let him. Oh, I’d tell myself that I was simply ‘obeying’.
That I had to do what it took to survive him.
And while all of that would be true, so is the fact that I’m dying to know what it’s like to have his cock inside of me instead of his fingers.
I think he knows it, too, and as if he has a cruel streak of his own, he removes his hand from my panties before I can begin to climax around his fingers.
I glare at him. I can’t help it.
He smiles.
“Do you know how beautiful you look right now?” he murmurs. “All wrapped in light and snow? Shaking because your body understands what your mind is still arguing with… you need to come, don’t you, Starling?”
My breath stutters. I hate that he’s right. Hate that my thighs press together without me telling them to because I was so fucking close.
His grin widens. “You’re such a good fucking girl,” he says, barely above a whisper. “And you deserve the world. You deserve everything. Most of all, you deserve to come. So answer me, Noelle: do you want me to make you come?”
“Yes,” I explode, my voice echoing on the mountaintop.
The shout is so loud, I actually knock some of the snow covering the branches off of its perch.
It lands with a muffled thud a few feet away from Patrick.
He doesn’t even react, all of his attention focused on me as I snap, “You tied me up like this. I could take care of myself if you left me my hands, but you didn’t.
And now I’m at your mercy so, yes, damn it. Help me.”
I’m begging. I didn’t want to, and I’ll lie to myself and pretend I never did, but I’m begging—and Patrick knows he’s won.
“Very well. I’ll untie you,” he murmurs, reaching for the lights. “But on one condition. You don’t get to touch yourself. You can get dressed, we’ll go back inside, and when you want relief, you ask me for it and, because I’m feeling generous this Christmas, I’ll give you that gift.”
How fucking generous.
“Or what?” I demand. “You’ll leave me here to freeze to death if I refuse?”
For a moment, his jaw goes tight. I guess he really believes that I believe that, when it comes to me, he’d never purposely kill me. So, no, I won’t be another one of Saint’s victims, but that doesn’t mean that I’ll get my way if I choose to stop obeying him.
Because Patrick? He has an alternative that his suddenly daring expression tells me I can’t refuse.
Without a word, he lets go of the lights, leaving me trapped.
His hand dips to his pants. The sound of his zipper being tugged down echoes in the night, and though it’s so cold out, he reaches inside of his suit pants, pulling out an erection that has no right being as big and angry and hard as it does considering the weather.
Whatever happened to a little shrinkage, huh? I already knew what his cock looked like, but seeing it now…
My pussy clenches, and I stare at him incredulously. “What are you… are you kidding me? You want head now? Patrick… it’s freezing out.”
He lifts his hand, tongue darting out, lapping at his fingers.
“Oh, I know. And I have proof just how hot your delicious cunt is, Starling. You want to keep me warm?” He waves at the tarp that, now that I’m looking at it, seems more like a snowproof blanket spread out on the ground.
Not because he wants to protect the snow from any blood, but because he wants to protect us from the snow…
. “I know an excellent way that we can share body heat.”
Me? I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I knew it would end with sex.”
“It doesn’t have to. I told you, sweetheart.
This is your choice. You can come down from that tree, ride me now, and take your orgasm, or we can go back inside and, when you come to your senses, I’ll give you one myself.
It depends on you. Do you want to give or do you want to receive this Christmas? ”
I know what he’s really asking.
Do I want to let him climb on top of me like Charles Dutton did, or would I rather have some sort of ownership in an act that was probably always going to happen from the moment I let him into the chalet?
“Untie me,” I tell him.
“And?”
I can’t quite shrug, thanks to the Christmas lights, but I do my best to give the impression that I did. “Why don’t you obey me this once and you’ll find out?”
“I will always obey you, Starling. You just have to be willing to command me.”
Is that so?
“Then untie me, Patrick. Now.”
He does. With a curious look on his handsome face, he puts the wastebasket back so I have something to support my weight before he starts removing the Christmas lights.
Once he’s done, he tosses them to the side; for once, he’s too eager to see what sort of move I’ll make to clean up obsessively after himself.
Patrick’s hand goes around my waist, easing me down from the wastebasket. I curse under my breath when my feet land on the snow. Despite the way his touch heated me up, it’s still cold outside, and I tiptoe across the crusty ice until I’m standing on the edge of the tarp.
Then I point at it. “Lie down.”
Stroking his cock, using the heat of his palm to keep his erection, Patrick does exactly that. He sprawls back, appearing relaxed, though I can tell from the set of his shoulders and the muscle ticking in his jaw that he’s doing everything he can to be the one who is obeying.
I commanded, and he listened, and I know why. He wants me to choose this. To choose him. I’m not begging anymore, but I don’t need to. He’s the one who would offer me anything to have me straddle my legs over his groin, accepting him into my body.
And I know what this is. This is the fifth thing he wants from me: my complete and total surrender.
As I throw my leg over him before beginning to lower myself down on top of him, I tell myself this is survival.
Even as I shove my own fingers under the gusset of my panties, shoving the soaked material to the side so that there’s nothing between my pussy and the head of his cock, I lie to myself.
If I do this… if I use what I have—my body, my willingness—I’ll be done.
This will be the last thing, and like that long-ago holiday party, I just have to grin and bear it to give Patrick the fifth thing he wants.
The one thing I wasn’t sure I could give anyone.
The cold bites against my legs, my ass, but his warmth is undeniable. He’s still fully dressed, with only his cock exposed to the winter air, but not for long. Before I can think better of it, I position him at my entrance and, shuddering out a breath, I sink down on top of him.
His hands go straight to my waist, squeezing me tightly as though he’s terrified that I’ll pump him once, consider the clause met, then leave with us both unsatisfied.
Yeah, right. Like I always say, in for a penny, in for a pound, and now that he’s fully seated inside of me… I’m not going anywhere until I demand that orgasm he promised me.
I don’t care if he finishes. As I slowly begin to move, I’m determined to drag my groin against his, using his dick to fill me and his hard, lower body to stimulate my clit.
I’m probably messing his expensive-looking suit all up.
Too damn bad. He wanted this, too, and merry fucking Christmas, Patrick North, but this is the only Christmas gift you’ll be getting from me.
Can he tell that I’m using him the way that so many men have used me?
Probably. There’s definitely something passing between us as I bury my fingers in his chest, using his body as leverage to fuck him.
He never once comments on my weight. If I’m too heavy for him as I drop down, the only reaction I get is in the way he grunts and groans and demands more.
He cups my tits, carrying their weight as I alternate between bouncing and slamming down on him, letting out some of the impotent rage I’ve been carrying around with me for so long.
“Yes, Starling. Just like that,” he orders and, fuck it, I obey. “I knew it. From the moment I first saw you… I knew you’d be motherfucking perfect.”
I whimper at the word perfect and how he actually sounds like he means it, humiliation and longing tangling together until I can barely think about anything other than the hold this man has on my body, even with me being on top.
He thrusts up at the same time as he squeezes.
I guess I forgot to stop moving for a second and he decided it was his turn to fuck me.
“That sound you just made?” he adds, amused.
“That’s my favorite kind of Christmas music.
Who needs ‘Jingle Bells’ when Noelle Halliday is clutching my cock and whimpering in pleasure? ”
I squeeze my eyes shut, cheeks burning. Know why? Because that’s exactly what I’m doing.
I’m not sure what happens after that. Some of my fight seeps out of me even as the pressure in my lower half…
the need to finally orgasm… becomes my sole goal.
As though he can tell I’m close and, this time, he’s not cuckolding me by stopping what he was doing right before I do, Patrick suddenly flips our positions.
Now I’m on my back, an ankle up by my ear as he thrusts in and out. His other hand is shoved under his sweater—my sweater—as he rubs my clit, helping me get to the finish line.
“That’s it, Starling. Let yourself go. Trust me. I’ll be right here to catch you.”
Maybe he will. Maybe, now that he blackmailed me into sleeping with a serial murderer… an unhinged assassin… he’ll put me out of my misery. I don’t know what’s worse: the idea that he will, or the suspicion that this wasn’t enough. That, even after I ‘repaid’ him, he’ll never let me go.
I don’t know, but as he drops down on top of me, burying his cock to the hilt inside of me before roaring out my name as he comes, I wouldn’t be surprised if they heard his possessive claim all the way down at the resort.