25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

IZEL

The door creaks open again, and this time it’s Richard barging in. The trio of agents scatter like roaches when the lights come on, and I’m left here, sizing up the sudden appearance of his familiar face. A mixture of fear and a weird sense of longing twists in my gut as he locks eyes with me.

“Alright, everyone, out!” Richard barks at the trio. The agents don’t waste a second, stumbling over themselves to get the hell out of Dodge. As the door slams shut behind them, Richard saunters over like he owns the space—and me, by extension. He doesn’t say a word at first, just closes the door with a soft click .

“So, what’s it going to be?” My eyes trail his every movement as I try to mask the unease creeping up my spine. “Are you the good cop, or the bad cop?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he takes his time, peeling off his coat and draping it over the back of the chair like he’s settling in for a long night. My heart picks up pace, and I can feel my pulse in my throat, but I keep my face neutral, not willing to let him know he’s got me on edge.

He starts rolling up his sleeves, each fold revealing more of those forearms—strong, veined, and capable. The kind that could crush skulls without breaking a sweat or maybe cradle you so tight you’d forget to breathe. Fuck, I hate that he looks so good doing it, but damn if it doesn’t make me forget for a second where we are. Maybe getting arrested isn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened tonight.

He finishes rolling up his sleeves and moves toward me. He bends slightly at the waist, so he’s right in front of me. His hand slides into my hair, fingers threading through the strands before he yanks it back, hard enough that I wince. The pain shoots through me, but it’s quickly drowned out by the heat pooling in my stomach

“ The worst ,” he enunciates before crashing his lips crash into mine.

His kiss is possessive, demanding, as if he could extract the truth from my very soul. I respond with a hunger that matches his, letting go of the facade of indifference I’ve been clinging to. The taste of him is both a comfort and a torment, a reminder of a connection that refuses to be severed.

He yanks my hair, forcefully dragging me off the chair. The chair crashes to the floor as he drops me onto the table.

Instinctively, my legs wrap around his waist. He releases my hair, replacing it with a possessive grip on my neck. The pressure builds, and I gasp for air between these desperate kisses.

My cuffed hands are a hindrance, but Richard doesn’t seem to care. He tears his lips from mine, leaving a trail of fire on my cheek as he moves down.

“I'm still mad at you,” I manage to gasp between shallow breaths.

“I can feel your anger…” His large hand slides down, grasping one of my cuffed wrists. He drags it slowly down his body, until my fingers brush against the hard length of his cock through his jeans. “Right here.”

The cuffs may chafe, but the intensity of his touch makes it hard to care about anything else.

“Tell me you want this.”

All I can manage is a nod, but Richard is not satisfied with it, he increases the hold on my throat, conveniently cutting off my air supply.

“Yes,” I squeak out.

His hold eases a bit, and he yanks down my shorts, tearing through my panties. He strokes my pussy lips, and I moan, the sound escaping me like a soft confession.

His fingers now tease my entrance, forming circular patterns by using my own wetness. He’s not touching my clit or focusing on the more sensitive spots, but the anticipation is electrifying.

My cheeks flush with shame, and I press my head back, biting my lips together.

“You want more?” he whispers.

“What do you think?”

He chuckles, and it’s infuriatingly sexy.

“Say it.”

His fingers keep doing their dirty work. “Fuck, Richard,” I mutter. “Give me more.”

“That’s it,” he taunts gently. “Close your eyes. Concentrate on what you feel.”

My cuffed arms are unceremoniously removed from between us. Richard lifts them up, pushing me until I’m sprawled on the table, with my hands and head now dangling over the edge. My legs release their grip on his waist as he towers over me. He lifts me, positioning me more securely on the table. With a swift motion, my top is pulled over, leaving my tits exposed.

His fingers skim down the length of my arm, tracing a line that’s deceptively gentle, pausing just below my elbow. He presses there, the subtle pressure sending a shiver down my spine that I can’t suppress. I bite back a whimper, but he catches it.

“Pain and pleasure, they run so close together here…” he murmurs. “There’s a reason certain spots hurt more than others. I could make this pain feel like paradise or make you remember it every time you breathe.” His tone is pure menace, a threat wrapped in velvet, making me shiver as his thumb digs a little deeper into the spot. I can’t see him, can’t read the intent in his eyes, but right now, it’s like I don’t even need to. My body is reacting to every touch, every shift in his tone, every hint of pleasure he dangles in front of me.

The pain hits sharp, pulling a shriek from my throat and my body jerks. Instinct has my wrists stretching and I feel the metal dig in deep, breaking skin as blood starts to trickle down my hands. The burn is dizzying, and my cry echoes in the room. But he doesn’t give me a second to process it.

His mouth dips lower and his lips brush against my stomach in a ghost of a kiss that’s too soft, too delicate for the way he’s got me tied down. His fingers glide up to the cuts on my wrists, trailing until they dip into the fresh blood seeping from where the metal bit into my skin. He smears the red stain across his fingers, almost like he’s savoring the sight of it before bringing them close to my lips.

“You’ll break yourself to pieces before I even get started.” My mouth parts, welcoming him in. I close my lips around his fingers, tasting the metallic tang of my own blood as I suck on them.

His satisfaction is evident as little beads of fear begin to prickle on my skin. His hand drifts lower, grazing my ribs before coming to rest just beneath my breasts, and my heart hammers.

“State your name,” he demands.

“You know my name.”

“That’s not what I asked.” He moves his hand, pressing harder into that tender spot beneath my ribs. It sends a jolt of pain up through me, enough to wrench a strangled sob from my lips. “For the record,” he adds, almost mockingly.

My breath shakes as I fight back, but finally, the words spill out. “Izel… Briallyn… Montclair.”

“Good girl.”

One hand slides up to my throat and wraps around my neck, but he doesn’t squeeze. Instead, his thumb strokes gently, mocking how easily he holds me, how little I can do under him. “Where are you from?”

I bite my lip, my voice barely a whisper. “H-Hollowbrook.”

“Mmm.” His fingers trail down, teasing along my stomach. They dip lower, hesitating just enough to make me squirm, before he thrusts two fingers deep inside me.

He pumps his fingers, dragging moans out of me with every press against sensitive, swollen ridges inside me. His cock presses hard against my thigh, and I grind against him.

“How old are you?” His lips are at my ear as his fingers curl and twist, finding every sensitive spot inside me and working it mercilessly.

“T-Twenty-six,” I manage to gasp, but it’s barely a word. My legs are shaking, spreading further to give him better access as he holds me.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

I manage a mumble, “T-Trespassing,” but I’m not even sure if he heard it—hell, I can barely hear myself over the buzzing in my ears.

Just when I think I’m about to shatter, he presses a spot on my neck, and pain lances through me. I shriek, my body jerking against his hold, instinctively trying to get away from that feeling.

The pain eases as he lets go, his fingers sliding from my neck, and I pant out, “T-trespassing?”

“Are you asking me, or telling me?”

I barely get a chance to respond before his mouth closes over my clit, and all coherent thought goes out the damn window. His tongue circles my clit in slow, wet strokes, each one designed to make me lose every last scrap of control. He lets out a low chuckle that vibrates against me, and the heat of his breath there— right there—makes me moan louder than I meant to.

Then, he presses his mouth against me fully, his tongue dipping lower, licking through every slick inch of me. He’s exploring every part of me with the tip of his tongue before sliding it deep inside me.

“God, yes—right there, fuck,” I gasp pulling my hips closer to his mouth, like I can’t stand even an inch of distance between us. His tongue thrusts deeper, twisting, pressing against spots that have me falling apart, my body tightening around him as he drinks in every reaction, every shudder.

My blood feels like it’s rushing faster, coursing hot and fast through my body, making me feel dizzy, lightheaded. It’s like every drop of it is pooling lower, gathering in this unbearable ache that his tongue is somehow both soothing and stoking into something sharper.

As he slides his tongue back up, his teeth suddenly graze over my clit, and my entire body jolts like I’m plugged into some live wire. That little scrape alone pulls me so close to the edge I almost shatter. The ache turns sharp and I’m grinding myself on him, ready to lose it completely—

Then he bites down.

Hard.

A scream tears out of me and it’s nothing like the pleasure I was bracing for. The pain is so fierce it’s blinding, and for a moment I can’t even breathe. I twist under him, trying to pull back, but he’s got me pinned.

“Why… why are you doing this?” I choke out.

He pulls back, the tip of his tongue tracing over where he bit me, like he’s soothing the sting. “You know why,” he murmurs.

“Fuck, you’re... you’re torturing me.”

“Maybe I am,” he says, almost casually. “Or maybe I just want to see what it takes to really break you.”

My breath catches, and the words hit somewhere deep, twisting through all the pleasure, turning it sharp again. “Is that it?” I pant, writhing under his hand. “You want to... to break me?”

“I want you to beg me.” His fingers move, tracing around the tight ring of muscle, a feather-light nudge.

There’s an unspoken demand in his words, something he isn’t saying, but I can feel it as clear as the pressure of his hand on me. He’s done waiting. He’s done chasing. If I want to keep him, if I want him to stay, I’m going to have to let him in, to let him see everything I’ve kept hidden behind layers of lies and deflection.

My chest feels tight, and each breath feels harder to draw in as the battle rages inside me. I can’t lose him. I can’t. But the thought of giving him that part of me, the part I’ve always kept guarded, is like tearing myself open.

God, I whisper in my head, the plea slipping out before I can stop it. Please, please don’t let me lose him.

“P-p-please…”

His fingers still. “Please what?”

His voice pulls me back to reality. It reminds me of why I’ve kept him at arm’s length all this time, why I’ve never let him see the parts of me I keep hidden. Letting him in would mean giving him power over me, the power to hurt me in a way no one else ever could. And the second I give in, I know there’s no going back.

“No.”

An exasperated sigh. “Please. What?”

God, I hate you...

His lips trail down my neck igniting my senses. “Please what?”

“No!”

He sighs again. “Please. What?”

His sigh is almost resigned, like he’s finally accepting I’m not going to give him what he wants—but I know him better than that. He isn’t done with me, not by a long shot. This surrender is just another one of his moves, another step in breaking me down bit by bit. He’s going to use every second of this night to push, to test, to see if he can wear me down until there’s nothing left but him.

The thought should scare me, should make me want to pull away, but instead, my pulse quickens. I’m about to get lost in the weight of what’s coming when his lips begin to trace along my collarbone, like he’s taking a different approach now, one that slips under my defenses and ignites something that I can’t hide from.

“Please... fuck me with your fingers.” I say giving in.

His fingers fill me in a deep, brutal thrust against the table. It hurts in the best way, and I moan, screaming out my pleasure. “Oh, yes...”

He pulls out, then thrusts in harder, faster, deeper. I cry out again, shivering at the sound of his breathy grunt.

The rhythm doesn’t waver, there is no pause, no mercy. He just keeps moving his fingers in and out. They never grace my clit or my G-spot. But my body doesn’t give a damn, it remains taut beneath his hand. The slick sounds of his plunge and retreat echo in the room, making me wetter and wetter.

“That’s it. Look at you. Your tight little cunt is begging for more. Trying so desperately to hold me inside you... to draw me deeper and deeper into your wet, writhing body.”

He withdraws completely, only to return, now with three fingers, and fuck, if it isn’t brutal, painful, and delicious. I whimper at the overwhelming sensations, reflexively trying to close my legs. He easily shoves them wide once more, bracing me open with his knees. “Don’t fight, baby... look...”

He reaches up, his fingers leaving a trail of fire along my skin. He hooks them around my chin, forcing my head up even though it’s painful, and makes me gaze at the explicit display between my thighs.

“Fuck, Richard,” I manage to groan. “More... give me more.”

“You’re insatiable, aren’t you? But don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet. Don’t you dare hold back. I want to hear you.”

With that, he curls his fingers inside me, the long, strong middle digit grinding mercilessly against my G-spot. I keen like an animal, the electric thrill of finally having his touch where I crave it so much arches me up off the table like I’m possessed.

His eyes are on me, drinking in every quiver, every shudder, every hitch. He’s coaxing sips of pain from my body, mingling them with pleasure that coils in the center of my belly, making me want more—his cock, not just his fingers. My neglected clit throbs, hard and swollen, practically screaming for attention but Richard doesn’t seem to take a hint instead he angles his hand away, and I can’t stop myself from bucking and twisting, desperate for more.

His laugh isn’t unkind, but he keeps the heel of his hand just out of reach. “What’s wrong, baby? Does this hungry little pussy need to come?”

FUCKER!

I screw my eyes shut, like a kid as if to wish away the monster under the bed. As if not seeing him will make this stop. I can’t let him win. Begging him would feel like walking into a trap, knowing the door will slam behind me, but part of me is already halfway through.

“I know you want it. You know you want it. Just think of how good it’ll feel when those tight, slick muscles start locking down, gripping my fingers, pulling me deeper and deeper. Imagine the way your body will react—your breath hitching, your heartbeat racing, your blood pounding in your ears. All you have to do… is beg for it.”

Every ounce of willpower pours into the few inches deep inside the core of my body. Willing them to obey me, not him. Obey me… not him…

And then… his thumb. Glazed with my juices and well-controlled, it applies the lightest graze over the exposed head of my raw and aching clit. A cry rips from my throat, desperate for the release I crave.

“Please… please! Please make me come! Oh, God… oh, fuck… please, please, please make me come.”

Suddenly, his fingers gone, stealing the breath from my lungs. I’m too dismayed to even weep. His legs keep mine open, and I thrash wildly at the sudden emptiness until I feel it. His fingers, closing carefully around the swollen clit he’d neglected for so long.

I couldn’t have stopped it if I’d wanted to, not with all the strength I had or would ever possess. The spiral of sensation curling impatiently behind my navel explodes in a screaming, shrieking burst, sending silver-sharp tendrils of venomous pleasure surging through every cell. They seize my voice and force it from my throat.

I writhe beneath the intense scrutiny of his gaze. My voice reaches new heights as he continues driving his fingers into me.

“That’s it, baby. Take it. Take all of it.”

I can’t form words. He knows exactly how to push me to the edge. The room echoes with the sounds of our lust, a symphony of moans, grunts, and the wet sounds of his fingers plunging into my dripping pussy.

As the climax washes over me again, my body convulses in the throes of pleasure. Breathless and utterly spent, I feel him withdraw his fingers.

He releases his hold on my hips, and my head dangles down the table. Richard bends down and his mouth latches onto my nipple, sucking and biting with hunger. The dual sensations of his mouth on my breasts and the aftermath of my orgasm mingle. Each flick of his tongue, every nip of his teeth, intensifies the pleasure coursing through me.

I moan, my fingers instinctively tingle with the need to tangle in his hair and I am instantly reminded of the pain in my arms. He releases my breasts, and his hands roam down my body. His fingers trail over my sensitive skin, and I arch into his touch.

Leaning into me, Richard holds the back of my neck, giving some reprieve from the pain, and kisses me. I respond with equal fervor.

“Richard, I want you to fuck me,” I blurt out breaking the kiss.