TWENTY-EIGHT - Alana

TWENTY-EIGHT

Alana

It's well after midnight when I stumble into my apartment, where I'm instantly swallowed by the smell of the fragrant roses. My lungs heat and I wander to my bedroom. Shadows wisp through the closed blinds, and I rub my eyes, heading to the bath to change into a well-worn T-shirt. At the office all day, I spent hours charging the aquamarines before scouring through personnel reports and threats to the company and my family for the last year.

Many people don't like us, and today I'm aware of the many threats my family members have kept from me. No wonder my father is so vigilant when it comes to security details.

There are at least six outside.

I also managed to get Ella into the company servers, which is something I should feel guilty about. Maybe tomorrow after I've had rest. Then I'll also worry about the other two emotes I posted, describing Thorn's chest and his sexy growl. No doubt the Rendale sisters got to hear the latter during their dinner with him. Thorn didn't text me again once he went inside.

Jerk.

Yawning, I tie up my hair, brush my teeth, and apply moisturizer to my face before padding back into my bedroom.

Something is wrong.

I pause in the doorway, looking around. Nothing is out of place. But tension thickens the atmosphere, and my heart rate hits mach ten.

The rose quartz light on the other side of my bed flicks on.

I yelp and jump back, prepared to slam the bathroom door.

Thorn stands there, somehow part of the shadows. Only his crisp white shirt shows within his expertly cut black suit. "Evening, Alana."

I gulp. "How in the hell did you get inside?" My gaze flashes to the closed window. The security is intended to prevent another kidnapping. Yet it has to be good enough to keep folks out. Thorn must be fucking brilliant.

"Are you ready for your punishment?" His voice is velvet soft.

My eyes widen, and suddenly, I'm wide-awake. I backpedal and try to shut the door, but he's already there, forcing it open. It occurs to me, much too late, that feeling safe with all the security around me is foolish, considering I'm dealing with a man like Thorn. Is he even a man? "Um."

"‘Um' doesn't do it." His callused fingers trail down my bare arm.

Fireflies ignite inside me, zipping around, landing everywhere they shouldn't. My breath catches and my thighs tremble. Fear and anticipation clash in my body, and I frantically search for an escape route. My shirt suddenly flies over my head and then I'm in his arms, headed toward the bed. "No." I punch him in the throat.

His growl isn't pleased or sexy. It's pissed.

I freeze.

He tosses me onto my back, and before I can scramble away, he has one wrist wrapped tight and is dragging my arm up toward the bedpost.

"Hey." I look up and see the belt of my comfy cotton bathrobe tying me securely in place. I jerk against it, but the material holds. Then he's manacling my other arm with my sexy silk bathrobe belt to the other post. Flopping back, my head on the pillows, struggling against the bindings, I gape up at him.

His gaze is on my breasts. "What is up with you and the multiple bathrobes?" Without waiting for an answer, he ducks down and wraps another belt around my left ankle, this one a starchy white, then ties it to another post.

I can't believe this is happening. The man has gone through my closet? "For different moods. Comfy, sexy, sick, chilly, and luxurious." Are we really having this discussion?

He secures my other ankle with the belt of the extravagant purple robe. "It's a handy habit."

I'm spread-eagled on the bed, tied tight. Fear wanders through me along with a furious lust I try to hide. This should not turn me on. Not at all. In fact, I suck in as much air as I can to scream.

He's instantly on me, shoving his tie into my mouth. Tears spring to my eyes and I try to push the silky material out with my tongue, but he lodged it well. "I'd rather not have witnesses. At least not yet." His grin is wicked. "Now, I'd like to talk. If you promise to be a good girl and not scream, I'll take out the tie. If you lie to me, in the mood I'm in, I promise you'll never do it again. Understand?"

I hate having something in my mouth, so I nod, a tear sliding down my cheek.

He removes the tie and leans over to lick up the tear.

Deviant that I am, I feel his tongue throughout my entire body, sliding right down to my pounding clit. There's something wrong with me. I had to have been dropped on my head multiple times as a baby. That's the only explanation.

He slides one finger beneath my panties, finding me swollen and wet. "Aren't you perfect?"

I close my eyes in mortification.

He slips that finger inside me, almost too easily, and I moan. Delicious flames lick through me, and I press against his hand.

"Fucking perfect." He moves and snaps the sides of my panties, yanking them off and tossing them across the room. "Now. Let's chat."

"I don't like this," I breathe.

His hand descends, right on my clit, hitting it center mass.

I cry out and buck, lashes streaking to my nipples. He has me bound too perfectly, and there's nowhere to go.

"Did you just lie to me?" he asks, peril lurking beneath his calm gaze.

My mouth opens and closes as my brain decides to take a vacation. So I start to babble. "Intellectually, I don't like this. That's fair. You can understand that."

He tweaks one nipple. Hard.

I moan and more wetness spills from me.

"How about your body?" he asks.

I gasp. "It's crazy. Every molecule has been infected with mad cow disease. Or a new gene they're about to discover that leads to insanity."

His smile is quick but amused. Then he leans over and blows warm air on my pussy.

My abdomen rolls. It's a gift he has, being able to draw my focus to just him. Right now, there's nothing in the entire world that matters except the proximity of his mouth to where I need him. "Please," I beg.

He looks up. "You want to feel good?"

"Yes," I breathe.

"By the time I'm done with you, you'll want to feel bad." He stands and tosses his jacket on the light green chair by the door before rolling up his sleeves. Then he returns to the other side of the bed and lifts up my good wooden salad bowl, several towels from my bathroom, and what looks like a sharp-edged razor that I have thankfully never seen before.

I pull against the restraints, panicking.

He ignores me and returns to place the bowl next to my thigh. "Stop moving. If you spill my water, I'll shave you without it."

I freeze. He spreads shaving cream all over my pussy, and I try but fail to keep another moan from escaping. Then he picks up the razor and I hold my breath.

"So. What are you being punished for?" he asks, his voice a dark rumble as he uses the razor.

I can't think. Don't want to breathe. That thing looks sharp.

The smack to my clit with the back of his hand has me jumping and then babbling again. "There were a few things, right? I mean, let me think." Don't move. God, don't move. "Um, ignoring your texts?"

"Yes." He returns to using the razor, his movements economical and smooth. But he's so close to where I don't want to be cut. Ever. "What is the punishment for that?"

I try to think. What was it? "Um, withholding orgasm?"

"Good. I believe I owe you four of those." His approving voice has my body relaxing from solid rock to slightly mushy concrete. "What other infraction have you repeatedly committed?"

He has to be about done. I mean, I shave regularly to go to the gym and swim. "Um. Emoting videos about you?"

"Yep." He wipes the razor off on one of the towels and then goes to town, hitting all of my very tender parts. I mean, everywhere down there. "Punishment?"

I think back. Didn't he issue some sort of threat in the bar bathroom? My memory clicks in and I gasp. "Spanking my bare pussy to orgasm?" No way. It isn't possible.

"After making you beg for it." He finishes, wipes me off, and stands to look down at his handiwork. His eyes flash, and pure lust fills them.

I blink, feeling vulnerable and rather bare. "Listen, I—"

He leans down and flicks my clit, my very bare clit, with his tongue.

The sound I make isn't one I'll ever be able to repeat. But electricity burns through me, and I push up against him, seeking his mouth.

He stands and takes the bowl, towels, and razor into the bathroom. While he's out of sight, I pull against the restraints, unable to move an inch. Figures. His punishments are polar opposites, and I don't know which one he's chosen. It'd be like him to shave me, have me think one thing, and then go the other direction.

He returns and stares at me for several long moments.

I can't move, and the look in his eyes, on his scarred face, thrills my body to the point I can't stay still. Then he releases one of my ankles. A shocking disappointment crashes through me. But this is okay. I mean, I'm turned on and would love an orgasm, but if this is him withholding one, then big whoop. I'll take care of business when he leaves.

He releases my other ankle.

I wrap my hands around the belts, waiting for freedom. "I think I get it." Might as well appease the beast. "This withholding is tough."

He then cocks his head and reaches to slowly unbuckle his belt.

Warning ticks through my head. "What are you doing?"

He pulls it through the loops, and the sound is deafening. Quick as a thought, he flicks it through the air and lashes my clit.

I scream and press my legs together, twisting my legs to one side as much as possible with my hands still bound. Pain echoes through my pussy and torso, quickly warming into an intense craving that nearly has me sobbing.

He sets a knee on the bed. "Spread your legs and I'll make it better."

I look at him, unsure. Then slowly, I roll fully onto my back and do so, my legs trembling.

He leans over and licks me, kissing my abused clit.

The feeling is too much. I shut my eyes and push toward him. He chuckles against me, the sound vibrating from my sex to my tits. As if he knows, he reaches up and tweaks both nipples. I arch my back.

He licks me again, sliding two fingers inside my wet and welcoming body. His rhythm is perfect and I ride his face, climbing to the pinnacle. He stops.

My eyes fly open.

He slaps me, open palm, on my clit. Hard. Then he watches me.

The connection between us is terrifying.

Whatever he sees has him slapping my clit again.

Hunger fills me.

He smiles, the sight dark. Then he slaps me several times, harder each time, watching my reactions. I'm anticipating each blow and he knows it.

I sob out a protest but still push against him, pleasure and pain clashing together until I can't tell them apart but want more. Crave more. He kisses my clit and then licks me again, going at me with his fingers, teeth, and tongue until my head is thrashing against the pillow. Then he stops and spanks me again, top to bottom of my pussy, forcing shocking vibrations to spark each nerve inside me. Then he licks me again. He goes on for an eternity, keeping me on the edge, finally getting me to the point where even the slaps are welcome.

I'm so close.

We're completely connected. It's as if he knows what I'm feeling. What he's forcing me to feel.

Then he stands and picks up the belt again. He looks like an avenging god with intent to punish. Starkly beautiful and perilously dangerous.

My breath is heated and my eyes wide. The blood rushes through my head so quickly, the sound is deafening.

He flicks his wrist and the end of the belt lashes across my already abused clit. I jolt and close my legs, rubbing my thighs together and trying to protect my tender parts from him. "You want to come?"

Desperately. Numbly, I nod.

"Then spread your legs."

Despite the numbing hunger, I catch his meaning. He released my legs on purpose, not to give me freedom but to force me to submit on my own. I watch him, my legs shaking, my body warring with my spirit.

He shoves the edge of the belt between my legs and rubs me.

I moan, gyrating against the leather. It feels so good.

Then he lifts it and presses it close to my eyes. "See how wet you are? How much you want this?"

I'm sure humiliation will come later. Right now, there's only need.

He slides the wet leather over my breasts and back down between my legs, rubbing my clit while his mouth takes mine. Hard, demanding, and all Thorn, he kisses me until I can't think and am actively riding the belt, climbing toward the pinnacle.

Then he stops and lifts up, his face inches from mine. "Beg me."

A tear leaks from my eye and he licks it away. I'm there. It's impossible to need this much. My body might just explode and leave me a head with no body. "Please," I whisper.

"Please, what?" There's no mercy on his hard face.

"Make me come." That belt is still between my legs. If he just moves it a little faster, I'm there.

He kisses me again, keeping up the slow and torturous rubbing. "There's only one way. Ask for it."

Silence takes me. "You want to break me." It's almost a sob.

"I've already broken you." His eyes are burning coals with flecks of silver on fire. "Now I'll put you back together."

He's right. I can't think of anything else. "Please spank me to orgasm." It's unhealthy to need this badly. I'm dying.

Partially rising, he lets loose with the belt, harder than before. The lashes come one after another, dead center, shooting spirals of sharp pain through me that slash right to a pleasure so dark it has to come directly from Thorn. I climb the jagged cliff and then fall over the edge of pain, climaxing with a shocking rawness that has my mouth widening in a silent scream.

The punishing waves crash through me, head to toe, shattering me into pieces that he can do with as he likes. He spanks me through the entire orgasm until I come down, mumbling.

He tosses the belt aside, reaches up and releases my arms, before roughly flipping me onto my belly. Hard hands yank me onto all fours, he releases his zipper, and then he's inside me, driving hard and fast.

My head flips back as he holds my hips in a punishing grip and wildly pounds, hitting a spot inside me that has me crying out and pushing against him. This isn't possible. My nails dig into the pillows and my body stiffens as he forces me up again, too high, my body not prepared for this much fire. I explode again with a sob, another orgasm taking me, as he shudders against me, filling me.

Then, silence.

I flop back down and he allows it. There's the slight sensation of a warm washcloth between my legs, but I'm gone. I feel his hard body wrap around me and the softest of kisses pressed to my ear before I drop into a deep sleep.