Gentleness.
But it would have been enough.
And then after the play, we would drive somewhere deep and dark, maybe deep into the woods around Pikes Peak, taking one of those trails you weren’t supposed to take, getting lost in the trees with no way out.
And perhaps he would turn it into one of his games. A game of hide and seek. The King seeking the pawn he wished so terribly to destroy.
Maybe he would catch me hiding behind a tree, pleading for my life, and maybe, just maybe, he would wrap a rope around my throat and drag me back to his little camp where he would string me to a pole and pull out the whip he had hidden in hiscoat.
My grip tightened around him involuntarily, the images running wild as my thighs tightened and my pussy throbbed. I missed the way he fucked me.
Maybe he would tell me that I had been a bad girl. That I had run away when I shouldn’t have. That I deserved to be punished for the wrong that I had done.
Maybe he would whip me until my skin welted, grabbing my jaw, telling me that I deserved to be punished.“You shouldn’t have done that, pup. You shouldn’t have crossed me—”
The engine suddenly revved, jerking me out of my little fantasy back to reality, my heart racing.
I realized that my hands had slid down his torso, that my body was so wrapped around his, my legs had lifted slightly just to get a closer grip.
I gasped, releasing him and shoving myself back violently, only for him to reach back, grab my hand and jerk me back around him.
He turned his head just enough for me to see more of that black visor before turning back to the road, squeezing my hand almost painfully.
I locked my arms back around him before he finally let go, his body now tense.
My own body felt far too hot, and I was sure my cheeks were blazing. Fuck me and my imagination.
The curse of being a writer.
I remained very aware of my surroundings the rest of the drive. Counting lights and stop signs, just to keep my mind from drifting. It was embarrassing. I shouldn’t have let him get that much control over my mind, but how could I not? He had ‘taken what he was owed’ and with that, he had stolen a piece of me that he now owned.
I hated that as much as I found comfort in it.
20 minutes later we finally pulled into a parking lot to a building that felt remote.
There were trees surrounding it, and I hadn’t seen another building in the last three miles.
The parking lot only held three other vehicles, and once the engine was shut off, I could hear distant gunshots echoing through the woods.
I slid off the bike, a little unsteady and very aware of how damp my underwear now was.
I turned away from him immediately before taking off my helmet and taking in the small building. Clearly the range was a little bit of a hike. The guy must have trusted these people not to steal the guns. Good on him, I’d be anxious about it constantly.
Everett walked by me without a word, and I frowned when I saw his mask firmly on. “They let you wear that in here?” I asked, quickly dropping the helmet on the bike seat beside his and joining his side.
“I know him.”
My eyes narrowed, unsure if his cool tone was because of what happened earlier or because he didn’t want to dive into it further. “Right,” I said, glancing towards the trees, “because you know everyone, and you get special treatment everywhere. Talk about a silver spoon,” I muttered.
Everett’s hand was around my throat in a second. He jerked me towards him, his eyes blazing behind that mask, catching me completely off-guard. Not because of his actions, per-say, but because of the fact that what I had said caused something this severe. I had said far worse before, but this? This kind of response after a comment about knowing people, it was abrupt, and it had my panic level shooting towards the skies.
“If you want to push buttons today, go ahead and push them. Test me. See where it gets you.”
I met his glare with one of my own, although I was fighting formy life with the way his hand was cutting off my oxygen. “You’re not original, Everett, I know exactly where it would lead.” Okay, so he was on edge today. If I decided to continue pushing him, I needed to use a gentler touch, unless I wanted to rue the consequences.
I might want to rue those consequences.
His pupils widened, his hand tightening around my throat, forcing my hands around his wrist, my eyes filling. “Don’t say that.”
