“Good.” His forehead presses harder to mine. The plane bucks again, but his voice slices through it, rough and filthy and impossible to ignore. “Exhale, Mercer. Let it out. Or I’ll bend you over right here in this seat and let the whole fucking team watch while I break you.”
My body jerks, heat detonating low in my stomach, blood flooding my face. I wheeze out a ragged breath.
“There you go,” he murmurs, low and lethal, still feeding me filth like oxygen. “That’s my boy. You breathe right, and I’ll ruin you the second we’re off this plane. You choke, you stutter, you panic—then no cock, no kiss, nothing. You understand me?”
“Yes, sir.” It bursts out of me between gasps, high and desperate, brain rewired by the promise.
And then I’m breathing. Shaky. Erratic. Too fast—but breathing. Because all I can think about is his voice in my ear, the filth spilling out of him, the leash he’s got tight around my throat.
The plane drops again. Someone screams. My stomach lurches.
But all I hear is him.
“Good pup. Now inhale.”
The plane bucks again—harder this time. The overhead bins rattle like they’re going to burst, cups crash off tray tables,someone in the back is sobbing, and Tyler is whispering something that sounds a lot likeprayersinto his hoodie.
Damian’s got me caged—forehead to forehead, one hand fisted in my curls, the other clamped under my jaw, thumb digging until I can’t move an inch without him letting me. His eyes don’t blink. “Breathe.”
Air claws shallow.
“Now, Elias.” His grip tightens. “Inhale—or I’ll take you apart so rough you won’t walk tomorrow.”
A broken sound bursts out of me—a half-gasp, half-whimper. I’m not even sure if it’s the panic or the filth. Both, probably. Both twisting me until I can’t tell which way’s up.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, breath brushing my lips, too close, too steady. The planedropsagain, my stomach slams into my throat, but his voice drags me through it. “In. Hold. Out. Good boy. Do it again.”
I gasp, ribs jerking, but catching enough to count as air.
“Good,” he growls, and my whole body jolts at the praise. “Again. You want me to bend you over that hotel bed and split you open until you’re begging? Then keep fucking breathing.”
A noise tears out of me—high, wrecked, that could be fear, could be want. I don’t know anymore. I can’t tell the difference. My lungs burn, but I’m dragging air in, out, in, out—because he told me to. Because he promised.
The cabin rocks again, jerking sideways, masks trembling in their compartments. People scream. I choke, vision whitening—
His hand yanks my curls harder, snapping me back to his eyes.
“Look at me. Just me. No sharks. No water. No fear.” His forehead presses harder to mine. “You breathe right now, pup, and I’ll make sure the only thing you drown in is me.”
Tears sting my eyes, but Ibreathe.
“Good boy.” His thumb strokes once under my chin, cold and grounding. “Again.”
The descent kicks harder. The plane angles down, engines roaring, my stomach dropping with it. Someone screams again, Tyler yelps, overhead bins slam. The captain’s voice is a distant blur through the speakers.
I barely hear it.
Because Damian’s still there, dragging me through each breath like he owns my breath. “In. Out. Again. Good. You’re mine, Elias. You obey me, you survive. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I gasp, but I’m breathing. Shaky, broken, desperate—but air.
The floor rushes up. The cabin shudders. I squeeze my eyes shut, panic clawing again—
And then the wheels slam the tarmac.
The impact jolts through me so hard a yelp bursts out before I can choke it down. The cabin lurches, brakes screaming, bodies jerking against belts. My breath catches sharp—
But Damian doesn’t let go.
