Chapter Five
Lyriope
“Nick… We shouldn’t do this. You need to leave and forget I was ever in your life. It’ll be easier for the both of us. Please.” Words are coming from my mouth but I’m not sure how. His stare is like a paralysis.
“Take. Your. Clothes. Off.”
“Please…”
We can’t go back, and yet, I’m terrified of what moving forward looks like. I can only hope we stop—for his sake… for my sake. We just need to stop.
As I open my mouth to protest, Nick is up, striking forward and pinning me to the wall by the neck before I can even process the act of domination.
“I said to take your clothes off.” He squeezes my neck as his eyes lock with mine.
He’s angry. He’s so fucking angry. But I can also see in the depths of his eyes that there is something more. Something deeper, something hidden, and something threatening to break free.
I part my lips to inhale but only wheeze instead. I can see the danger in his eyes, and I know I’ll break before he does. I’ll shatter into a million pieces before he’ll let me win this battle.
Putting up a fight, screaming, pleading, trying to run away—all will fuel this situation and make it worse. I know this. I absolutely know this. But maybe the reality is I don’t want to do any of those things. I don’t want to run from this man, but I do want his forgiveness. I do want him to understand that deep down I left because of him. For him. But something won’t allow me to confess that truth either.
My verity may always be under lock and key.
I do as he commands, stripping completely naked as his fingers hold my neck tightly. The chill of the room washes over my bare flesh, but I’ve never felt so hot.
“Good girl.” His breath caresses my cheek, but it feels as if it’s also a blade being used in warning.
As a reward for my forced submission, he releases his hold just enough so I can gasp for much needed air, and he guides me to my knees.
“Suck me,” he says as he lowers his pants revealing his hard cock that turns me on rather than scares me. I don’t want to reveal this fact in fear that he may go harder on me if he knows I’m getting wet rather than trembling.
His moan as my tongue licks along his length sends a shiver down my body. I love giving this man pleasure. As his hips thrust his cock further into my mouth, I dutifully bob my head up and down, paying my penance. Up and down, up and down is the cadence I silently chant. If this is my punishment, then I may become a very bad, bad girl far more often than I am.
He fists a chunk of my hair, pulling my face closer, shoving his dick all the way to the back of my throat. I gag around the size as his pubic hair surrounds my face. I can’t breathe, and as I place my hands on his thighs to attempt to pull away, he only holds me tighter against him.
He’s tense, unyielding, and fucking my face without mercy. I have to time my gasps of air when he pulls back just enough before he slams back even deeper than before. Even though I’m trying to break free, I can already tell that this will end on his terms. He decides when I can finally take a full breath of air, not me.
Uncontrolled tears stream down my face as I choke on his cock. I can do nothing more—he won’t allow me to do anything more—than swirl my tongue, tighten my lips, and hope he comes into my mouth soon.
I need air.
I need freedom.
But at the same time… I need this man.
“You will never try to escape again. You are mine until I say so. From this point on, you do nothing without my permission.” He moans and thrusts even deeper, finally filling my mouth with his creamy seed. “You can try to run, but I’ll always find you,” he grunts as he pumps his hips against my lips, emptying himself completely in the back of my throat.
He keeps his dick in my mouth until he regains his breath. I do nothing more but remain in position, swallowing the last remnants of his essence.
“Stand up,” he commands as he pulls up his pants.
I do so, not allowing in the panic that is knocking on my soul when I see him reach for his cane and hold it up before me. My body involuntarily shakes when I see him remove the ruby that conceals the blade.
“Two fingers,” he says, firmness masking any of the kindness I once saw back in Bishop’s Landing.
“Nick, please.” I take a few steps backwards, knowing there is nothing but stone wall behind me.
“Two fingers,” he repeats.