Page 27 of Ripple Effect, Vol. 2

No hello.

No, “Hey, how was your day?”

The guy moves like a goddamn freight train, and I either jump aboard or get derailed by him.

His arms encircle me, and the second those lips clamp onto my breast, my stomach flips. I morph from jelly bones to sex kitten, ready to play. His teeth graze the sensitive skin of my breasts before he torments me with each long, unrelenting suck. Bracing my hands at either side of me, I tip my head back, jutting them in his face for more. More.

It’s the most attention he’s given me in three days and it shames me to say that my body is happy for his touch.

“I want to fuck.” His husky voice rumbles against my chest and I nod, turn over in front of him, and lift my ass high into the air.

I’m willing to do whatever he wants, thanks to my pills. It’s a win-win for both of us. He gets to have me all pliant and horny, and I get to smile behind a shield of detached bliss.

“No. I need more than this, Dylan.”

What?

I glance over my shoulder, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a reason I agreed to this. Neither one of us is here to make love to each other, so let’s just treat this as it is. When we fuck, I want a fight. Sweat and pain. I want to feel like I just got my ass handed to me.”

“Fight? I’m not gonna … punch you, if that’s what you’re looking for.” I laugh at the visual of us boxing each other, at the same time his brow kicks up. “Is that what you’re looking for?”

“I’m not fucking a woman who just lies there with her legs spread for me. I can get that anywhere. What I can’t get anywhere is a feisty little shit like you who gets my blood hot.” He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “I want you to feel everything I do to you.”

“This is … crazy.”

His lips kick up into a wicked grin that sets my heart thumping. “Crazy isn’t even the half of it, baby.” He nudges his head toward the bed where the wooden post is attached at the end corner, and I feel my stomach turn as I crawl toward it.

“On your knees,” he commands.

With my knees against the mattress, the flat surface of the wooden post hits my spine and I allow him to lift my hands up into the air where he secures them into leather cuffs dangling over my head. Shallow breaths mimick the fear bubbling up inside of me, and when I tug at my wrists, the resistance of the chain exacerbates my panic.

He stands alongside the bed and unbuckles his belt. Its metal rattles and the slow glide of the leather passing through the loops leaves me to wonder if I’ll know the harsh sting of it against my ass by night’s end.

My throat is bone dry and I can’t even summon the slightest bit of saliva. I suddenly wish I’d taken another pill.

Disappearing behind me, he sets the alarms blaring inside of me to abort this mission. Call it quits because I don’t like the man’s idea of crazy or disturbing, but before I can say a word, a screech and snap from behind give a second’s warning before tape is smoothed over my mouth.

The question of why he removed his belt is answered in the cold leather that brushes across my throat and a squeak of panic escapes me as it tightens enough to press the back of my head into the wood. I can breathe, but my movement is restricted by the possibility of choking.

For the first time since this man has captured me, the cold spikes of fear shoot along my spine.

He stalks across the room toward that big bulky armoire and I watch with pointed interest as he pats along the top of it, far too high for me to reach, and produces a key. The doors swing open to shadowy shelves, where whatever’s inside remains tucked away, unseen. My whole body is shaking as he reaches for items, returning to me with a thick silver case that he sets on the nightstand. Two buttons pop it open and from inside, he pulls an object that looks like a showerhead of sorts. A glass cylinder in the shape of a test tube makes up the end of it and my body sags against the post, cutting off the air, when he plugs it into the wall. I snap my back straight and tug at the binds as he inches closer to me, the cable stretched across the floor behind him.

In his other hand is a skinny silver object about the size of a bullet. Two of them, attached to a looped string and he sets down what looks like some kind of remote control device. He wedges his hand between my thighs and pushes one of the bullets up inside of me, giving a light tug of the string. It’s not painful, in fact, I don’t feel much of anything at all, as small as it is.

“This one’s not going to be as comfortable.” His voice is right at my ear and when his fingers curl around my waist, fear shoots through my veins. “Sit tight, Dylan. I’ll try to be gentle.” Wedged between the post and me, his finger glides between my ass cheeks and I gasp a breath.

I mumble no behind the tape and shake my head.

“No?”

The money. I need the money. Do as he says.

Eyes squinted, I hang my head and give a nod.

With a kiss to my cheek, he sets the cylinder down and pushes the object into my ass. It’s nothing more than slightly uncomfortable, but certainly not as unbearable as I thought it’d be.