AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’m annoyed by his audacity to get some rest, and I think Dimitri recognizes it because he shrugs. “Fucker tipped the chair and busted out of his restraints. This was Plan B.”
A brief flicker of satisfaction blooms inside of me as I recognize it as the bed that Remy laid me over when we had passionate, hot, and not quiet sex above Wes’ head. Definitely better him than Dimitri.
“You keep your distance,” Dimitri warns. “I’ll wake him for you.”
“That won't be necessary.” I smile, drawing up to Wes’ side. He’s a heavy sleeper, apparently. If I couldn't clearly see his wrists bound with thick black cable ties, I would have thought he was feigning sleep in an attempt to catch me off guard when I get close.
“Claire,” Dimitri warns. His voice is nervous, like he is also entertaining the idea that Wes might be faking it. But I've come this far; I'm not going to stand across the room from him.
I hike the skirt of my dress up just a little in the front so that nothing is in my way as I swing my leg over Wes’s torso and sink down on his stomach until I’m straddling him. Dimitri blows out a breath, but I'm not sure if it's because he’s seeing the knife tucked into my thigh-highs, or because he thinks I'm about to do something devious.
My weight on his stomach is enough to stir him from the deeper stages of sleep, but his eyes don't open until I wrap both hands around his neck and apply just the slightest bit of pressure.
When his eyes fly open, they're clouded by confusion as he looks for the source of what's restricting his air supply and perhaps realizes it wasn't only in his dream. The confusion doesn't last long and neither does the fear that flicks across his green eyes. There is tape over his mouth; If I pinch his nose shut right now, how long would it take until his heart quits beating?
I lean into him and blow across the tape, though I doubt the warmth of my breath is enough to warm the tape up much. I also don't care if it hurts, so I dig a nail under the corner under his lip and yank the strip free all at once. He grunts in pain, bracing against the bed as he tries to contain his discomfort. I can’t help but laugh that a little bit of duct tape makes him cry out and react like he’s been lashed. “What’s the matter, baby?” I taunt. “You don't like it rough?”
His jaw twitches as he attempts to ease some of the stinging on his face—the skin is red where I just exposed it to air. “No, I do,” he says. “I just prefer to be on top.”
I’m sure you do.
“Worried about your fragile manhood?”
“My manhood is just fine, Claire. Scoot a little further south and you'll find out for yourself.”
I grace him with a laugh for that. “Maybe another day. I think your brother plans to keep you around for a bit, so we have plenty of time to play.”
His eyes flare at that, and I don’t know if it’s the promise of fun to be had or his indignation at the thought of playing captive any longer. “You gonna let him watch?” He tips his chin toward Dimitri. “I know you like to have an audience.”
“Do you?” I ask quietly.
“I know you were putting on a performance for me after you killed that other guy, baby. I heard you moaning, screaming all the way from down here. You sound like you enjoyed yourself but how genuine was it? I know that I could make you scream a hell of a lot louder than that.” He laughs, bobbing me up and down along his chest. “Hell, I already did.”
“You're right,” I whisper the words over his lips. If he leans forward just a little, his lips would brush mine. He could snare them between his teeth, and I'd have to burn them off to rid myself of his touch there. But he doesn't move, probably due in part to the blade I slip out of its sheath. It's covered in cheetah print, and I assume Elaine shopped for it, but it has a wicked sharp edge, the tip of which I press into the space between his collarbones.
Wes’ breath comes faster.
“I could give you a rematch. Dimitri could be the judge, deciding who screams loudest—me when I come on Remy’s cock, or you when I drive this blade into you.”
A smile curves his lips, and he flicks a tongue out, presumably to soothe away the stinging on them. Blood is trickling in the middle of his bottom one, and it blooms anew when his tongue is back in his mouth. “Where was this Claire the night we met, hmm? We could have had so much fun together. We still can…”
“This is pretty fun,” I admit, drawing the blade ever so gently across his skin. It bites into him just a little, leaving a thin line of blood to well there. Wes bucks a little, his shoulders arching back and his hands coiling into fists. He grunts through the pain until he controls it, and then he tamps it down in favor of a smile.
“I knew you had it in you. From the moment I followed you into that bathroom, I could sense your sickness.”
That gives me pause. I relent enough to give him the space to tell me more. “My sickness?”
Wes attempts a shrug and then winces when it pulls on the zip ties. “That’s just what I call it, not a clinical diagnosis. It’s different for everyone who has it, but like recognizes like. Most people do have it, these days. A sign of the times.”
He hasn’t explained what it is, but that’s not the only thing I need clarification on. “You're the one who came in the bathroom that night?”
“Yep,” he says, popping the ‘p’. “I was really considering pinning you up against the wall and seeing just how far you'd let me go… a stranger in the dark. I bet you would have let me go all the way, wouldn’t you? But I was there for Rhea, and even though I was pretty sure you wouldn’t stop me from fucking you in a bar bathroom like the whore you are, I also couldn’t risk you running to your little friend and ruining the night. Mack did that all on his own when he couldn't keep his hands to himself and grabbed a handful of some other man’s pussy. He sent you that drink to fuck with you because he thought you were Rhea. Stupid fuck.” He laughs. “I'm really not mad that he's dead. He brought me so much more stress than joy and this has been a nice vacation. Bed’s comfortable, smells like you… fucking heaven.”
“You sure?” I taunt, flipping the blade so that the edge is parallel with his neck, situated right under his Adam's apple, which bobs when he swallows nervously. It's an interesting contrast to the casual way he speaks, which is fitting considering I'm also pretending to be far less disturbed than I am. “It should smell like Remy considering he pulled out of me and spilled his cum all over this mattress.” The bed had sheets and a duvet on it, of course, but I’m not going to mention it. I bite my lip in an attempt to keep back the giggle threatening to bubble out of my throat at the look of disgust on his face. “Seems your brothers cum smells like heaven to you, Wes. And you think I’m sick.”
I lift the blade, letting the faint light catch on the silver and then dig the tip into his chest, just above his pecs, and watch the blood glitter too. Wes grunts, but he gets hold of himself quickly. Apparently, he is used to pain to some extent. Maybe he doesn't just dish it out. “It’s not too late, Claire.” His mouth cocks into a grin. “You could cut these ties and we could run away together. I could make every one of your kinky fantasies come true. I could take care of you.”
I tip my head to the side, considering it. “And we would live happily ever after?”
