“Anyone ever make you tap out?” he asks, sounding interested in a way that isn’t sexual, and I don’t know what to make of that.
I think about his question, because the nature of it feels too personal, even for him.
But I can’t lie to him. There’s something about Jordan Mackenzie that demands me to be honest. To be real.
I shouldn’t talk about this sort of thing with him. Not because I’m ashamed of my sexcapades but because the last time I was honest with someone about my experiences and my past, I paid heavily for it. I also think about Britt’s advice—about letting people in.
Mack knows me. He’s always had one foot in the door, and he’s seen me at some low points. So I guess I can at least be honest with him.
“Yes,” I say, trying not to recall the memory, but it’s no use.
His grip is always tight, but tonight it’s different.
I feel like I’m actually choking. I open my mouth to call out my safe word, but I can’t. His thumb is crushing my throat.
Vance tightens his grip, and I struggle to breathe. So I do the next best thing. I grab his hand, digging my nails in and smack my other hand on the ground. One smack. Two smacks. And then he lets go.
I cough hard as I choke out one word over and over. The only word that can pullme back from the edge.
Vegas.
Vance shoves me down as I catch my breath.
“Fuck—what the hell, V?” I say between coughs. “You trying to kill me?”
His footsteps echo as I rub my throat, watching him walk away without apology.
But that’s what I wanted, right?
I catch Jordan’s heated expression. “So you do have a limit.”
I bite my lip. “Everyone has a limit to what they can take.” I push the memory away. I should have left Vance then: the first time he hurt me for real.
Jordan moves to my other leg.
“I guess that’s true,” he says, clearing his throat. He smirks, which melts some of the bad memories away.
“Sometimes you just don’t know until you hit it,” I lament.
“Head down. Keep your spine straight.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, the words leaving my mouth humorously. “You’re the boss.”
It’s only a flash of a second later that his hand finds my neck and he pushes my head down between my arms where I have them crossed. It’s not harsh or painful. It’s firm, but gentle.
I like it more than I should.
“Damn right I am.” His voice darkens. “You better remember that.”
My cock weeps with precum.
Fuck.
He laughs as he moves back to my leg.
Just when I think we’re done, I move to get up, and once again, his palm holds me down.
“Stay,” he says, his voice raspy and dark. He slides my shirt up, exposing the small of my back. He presses his thumbs there and I hiss.
