Page 24

He must sense my hesitation because he arches his sexy brows as if daring me to say anything. We haven’t discussed what we are about to do. We’ve teased it. He’s given me those bruises, and I asked for them. But it hasn’t gone further than that, and we haven’t talked about boundaries.

Are those even relevant now?

I shake my head and glimpse a hint of a smile on his lips. Dark, raw emotion.

I choke on my breath. What if this is what he wants, and he keeps me like this forever? I peer at him, telling myself this is just him fulfilling a sexual fantasy, that he doesn’t mean it and would never actually tie me up in real life.

My skin radiates heat and vibrates with primal lust, every inch of my body craving him. I need this more than anything. I want to absorb all his rage and anger. He isn’t the only one with darkness; it’s inside me, too, and I’m slowly slipping into the void. When I slip entirely into it, I want us to at least be together.

I moan as his fingers tease my stomach, my breasts. He curves his fingers and gently pulls my hair, tying it up so it’s out of my face, then wipes a bead of sweat from my brow.

Every second, every slight tickle of his body against mine sends my senses into overdrive. He leans over me and kisses my forehead before placing a shirt around my eyes, as if the gag in my mouth and the wire around my wrists weren’t enough.

My world becomes black.

“Bite down on your gag,” he warns. Seconds later, a sizzling burn hits the skin of my inner thigh, and I squeak and flail. He keeps the heat on my skin for what feels like an eternity, pinning me in place with one firm hand so I don’t shatter my wrists.

Ash… The fucker burned me.

I bite hard, chewing the inside of my cheek. A few seconds later, he rubs a piece of snow on the blister, and the pain subsides. I’m left with something unexpected—raw euphoria. Heat explodes in my belly, right between my legs. Another mark, another notch on his belt.

I want more. My pain has become so constant that I need it like a drug to merely exist.

More fire, more pain, more heightened emotions.

My body pleads for him. I let out a long breath through my nose, trying to contain the beating of my heart. I arch my back, wanting and expecting more, as if we are precisely the missing puzzle pieces in each other’s existence. It’s deliciously terrifying.

His hands find my hips, and I lean into him, hoping he’ll at least put his mouth on me after what he just did. He shuffles his body down. The electric current of his lips is so close, the kiss of his breath tickling my skin. Then… he abruptly stops. He pulls a blanket over my legs, rises, and wordlessly leaves the cabin, shooting an icy breeze that teases my bare skin as the door creaks behind him.

Fucker.

The gag is so tight that I barely manage an audible moan. He is going to leave me tied up like this and do absolutely nothing to me. He takes his time outside, then finally comes back in, humming to himself like a psycho. I use the opportunity to rest, keeping my eyes closed, even though I can’t see anything anyway. I drop my head down, positioning myself like a turtle on the bed, bound and extremely uncomfortable as he rustles around the cabin. It doesn’t take long for me to doze in and out of sleep, listening to the familiar, calming sounds of Micah working.

I shift my body carefully. My injured wrist doesn’t hurt if I don’t move it, so I lie utterly still, waiting for him and anticipating his plans for me. He grows quiet, so I listen to the snow falling.

And yes, I’ve come to learn that you can actually hear snow falling, and I don’t mean the wind, the rustle of the trees, or the crunch of footsteps on top of it. When it’s falling and you really listen, you can hear the millions of flakes as the snow blankets the ground. It’s crystalline and something I’ve never noticed while in the city. Only in Alaska can I truly appreciate the sound.

Finally, after about an hour of meticulously taking his time doing whatever he is doing, I sense his heavy presence crawl up beside me. His hand gently pulls the fabric from my mouth.

“Are you hungry, baby?” he asks, running his hand across my cheek.

My stomach has been grumbling for the past hour while waiting for him. I soften as his warm hands run up my arms. I suck in a breath, feeling a ripple of annoyance at how bored I’ve been. “Micah, what are you doing to me? I’m cold and tired. Please let me go.” I just want to lie down. He hasn’t touched me at all, and this is not how I thought my first experience of being tied up would go. Not that I ever thought any guy would tie me up or that I would want someone to, but here we are…

“Eat,” he demands.

“How long are you going to keep me like this?”

He shoves his fingers into my mouth. “Eat, London. You need food.” I lick his fingers, and a delicious earthy aroma hits my tastebuds. I almost die from the deliciousness of it. It’s spaghetti with marinara sauce, and I slurp down the noodle, savoring every salty bit of it. He’s been saving this spaghetti for a special occasion. I’ve wanted to eat it so badly for weeks now, but he wouldn’t let me.

He hand-feeds some more, and I moan at how wonderful the sensation of taste is when all my other senses are dulled. It’s the best meal I’ve had here. It even tastes better than those cold, canned beans I shoved into my mouth when he found me at the plane site after I ran away.

I chew and swallow, licking my lips for more. He slips another bite into my mouth, and I devour it like an animal. “Take your fill, sweetheart.” He chuckles.

I eat as much as he’s willing to give me, wondering what the catch is. He gives me a few more bites and says nothing. Then he grabs the water, pulls my head back softly, and pours some into my mouth.

My stomach is full, with no hunger pains left, and now all I want is him.

He shifts and shuffles, and finally, his warm skin presses against my cheek, his hard cock near my mouth teasing me. He slaps my cheek with it. “Are you still hungry?” he teases.