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She goes to speak but her words are muffled, thanks to the tape I’ve placed over her lips. I can’t have her screaming and putting a stop to this before I have some fun.
It’s another minute before she realises she’s trapped, and her eyes widen in fear.
Fucking beautiful.
Lifting from my seat, I walk towards the bed, towering over her.
“Boo.”
Waking up bound and gagged is not an experience I ever thought I’d have, and while it’s pretty fucking scary to find you can’t move or speak, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued as Theodore stares me down, his eyes locked on mine.
I’m an idiot.
A certifiable fucking idiot.
My arms ache, and I can’t help but wonder how long I’ve been kept in this position with my legs tied spread eagle and my arms crossed above my head. The room is bathed in darkness, making it impossible to see what he’s used to bind me, but there’s a pinch on my skin when I try to pull myself free.
“Casper,” he tuts, reaching out to stop me. “If you keep moving your wrist, you’re only going to hurt yourself, and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”
Did I say I was a certifiable idiot?
Yeah, I take that back.
He’s the fucking idiot.
“If you can promise to behave and stay quiet, I’ll take this tape off your mouth, okay?”
He’s also stupid too.
The moment this tape is gone, I’m screaming so fucking loud it’ll hopefully pierce his eardrums. I don’t want him to know that so I nod—begging him with my eyes. He tilts his head to the side, searching my face before he tuts again, “You never were a good liar, were you?”
Shaking my head in frustration, I thrash my legs, pulling on the binds. My heart races when he leans over me, leaving barely an inch between us. When the scent of weed and whisky coming off him tickles my nose, I almost whimper.
I’m still drunk. That has to be it.
There is no way this would be nearly as hot if I wasn’t.
Right?
His hand moves, his finger pressing against the tape. He lifts it, but before I can let a noise out, his other hand covers my lips. I try to take a few calming breaths, but the only thing I’m breathing in is him.
It’s suffocating.
“Now, behave and stay quiet,” he demands, slowly lifting his hand away one finger at a time. When I keep my mouth clenched shut, he smiles smugly. “Good girl.”
Can you die from a heart attack at eighteen?
The way my heart beats and my breath hitches at his words, I think this is it.
The end.
“What do you want?” I finally breathe out, keeping my voice low. The last thing I need right now is to wake up Betty and Noah, who no doubt would take one look in this room and walk out, laughing at my predicament.
They’re great friends—mostly—they just have weird delusions about my relationship with Theodore and would assume this was some weird kind of foreplay we were engaging in.
Funnily enough with the way my nipples have pebbled and my clit aches, I don’t think my body has gotten the memo that this isn’t foreplay.
“You defied me today,” he tells me, moving to sit on the bed next to me. His large body commands the space, making the room appear much smaller than it actually is. “I don’t like being defied.”
