Page 17

Instead, I had just poked a sleeping monster, and I didn’t know what he was planning.

Crawling onto my mattress, I curled into a tight ball. “I’m not scared of him. Not anymore,” I exhaled, wrapping my arms around my legs as I tried to lull my body into believing I was safe. “I can’t be scared of him. Of any of them. I’ll face him. I’ll tell him he doesn’t scare me.”

I threw my sheets off and climbed out of bed. I slipped into sweatpants and a black hoodie, then grabbed my keys.

It was 4:45 AM.

My body was screaming for sleep, heavy with a profound, bone-deep mental fatigue. I couldn't think straight. Was he planning to tell everyone on social media how I whored myself out for spanks? My pre-law track, my reputation, my entire life would be over. I had no choice.

The morning air behind the athletic field’s parking lot was biting and thick with fog. It was exactly 4:59 AM.

My boots clicked softly against the asphalt, the sound echoing in the eerie, dead silence of the pre-dawn. I wrapped my oversized coat tighter around myself, shivering. It was less about the cold and more about the sheer terror clawing at my throat.

Then, I saw him.

George’s conspicuous figure dominated the space as if he owned it. The university's star left tackle looked like a terrifying monolith carved out of the darkness. He was waiting by the edge of the tree line, his massive frame swallowing the dim light of the distant streetlamps.

My breath hitched. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. Every instinct I had shouted at me to turn around and run, but my legs forced me forward until I was standing a few feet away from him. Looking up at him was dizzying; I barely reached his chest.

"I'm here," I gritted out, trying desperately to inject a dose of my usual sharp, biting arrogance into my voice. It failed miserably, coming out as a fragile whisper. "You said you'd tell me what you want. So out with it, George.”

George didn't answer right away. He just stepped closer, his shadow falling over me like a heavy blanket, trapping me against the vast emptiness of the parking lot. The sheer physical disparity between us had never felt so suffocating.

“I already told you what it’s about, Santiago,” George said. His voice vibrated in the quiet air, deep and terrifyingly calm.

I rolled my eyes. “You claiming to be the only one who can hear me?” I snapped, my teeth chattering as I forced myself to hold his intense, dark gaze. I felt so small, so completely at his mercy. “You think you can trap me like that? I bare all my pain in front of you just so you can humiliate me once again? You think I am stupid enough to fall for your trap? Stop playing with your food and show me your cards, George."

George let out a low, humorless chuckle that sent a shiver straight down my bruised back. He took one more step, completely invading my personal space until the scent of rain and heavy leather enveloped me.

“You think this is about me trying to record your confession, just as you did to me?” He lifted his phone and pressed play.

The video started. It was me, naked and collared in the BDSM club, on my knees, my voice breaking as I begged: “Harder... I’m weak. I deserve this.” The camera caught every flush of shame and arousal on my face. My blood ran cold. George clicked stop, pulling the phone down, and I frowned as I met his eyes.

I foolishly reached out to punch him, but he held my wrist, and when I tried to kick him, he turned me around locking both my arms, caging me against his broad chest. “So, that’s what you plan to do? Once again, ruin me?” My voice sounded hoarse to my own ears as I tried to catch my breath.

"I'm not going to ruin you, Sig," he murmured, leaning down just enough so his breath brushed against my ear, making me flinch. "You wanted to play games, but you're too fragile for the rough ones. Look at you. You're falling apart." He rubbed his large hand around my shivering arm.

"I am not—" I tried to push him off and he only loosened the grip enough for me to turn in his arms to face him.

“Yes, you are.” Wrapped in his massive arms, his warm breath against my forehead sent a shiver down my spine.

"You need someone who actually listens to you. Someone who knows exactly how far to take you, and exactly when to make you behave." George reached out, a massive, calloused hand gently but firmly gripping my chin, forcing my face up so I had no choice but to look into his eyes.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. The air turned electric, freezing the blood in my veins.

He held my eyes. "You wanted my attention? You have it. All of it," George whispered, his thumb brushing over the smudged makeup on my cheek. “And now you are going to submit to me, and only me.”

He brought his mouth closer to mine. “Fuck off, I will never submit to you.” I exhaled against his lips. I tried to shove him, but he clutched my hair tight in his iron fist, pulling back.

A sharp moan escaped me.

“Yes, you will. Here's the part you don’t know, Santiago. I watched this video until I lost count. And every single time, I got rock hard.” My eyes widened as I met his dark pupils. “Not because of some stranger whipping your cute ass, but because I finally saw the real you. The part that doesn’t want ‘safe.’ Confessing your life to someone who doesn’t know shit about you, oh no, baby, that’s not what you want. You were screaming to be heard, thinking no one was listening. But I did. I heard you loud and clear, and I am the only one who can deliver what you want. Not some anonymous, paid Dom who doesn’t know shit about you.”

“And if I don’t?” I held his gaze.

He smirked. “You have two choices here—”

My breathing quickened. “Don’t threaten me!” I said challenging him.