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“Touch your pussy.”
Her hand slides down her leg, across the mound of hair at her apex and up, forcing her shirt to bunch across the middle of her stomach. I watch her fingers delicately trace a path back to the crease at the top of her thigh and over to the top of her pussy, where her hand rests lightly on top of her clit.
“Rub it.”
She obeys immediately, and the sight of her doing exactly what I tell her to do is empowering.
Pressing a hand to the inside of her thigh, I tell her, “Open for me. I want to see it all.” Her legs fall open. My cock jumps in my pants, and it takes all the self-restraint I have not to bury myself in her right now. But this is a teaching moment. This is me reminding her that she exists, she comes because I will it. She has no control.
She hasn’t quit circling her clit. Her head is thrown back and to the side again, and her breath is labored.
“Slide one finger in.”
Fuck. I watch as her middle finger slides inside her. She takes her time, enjoying the torturous journey. When she pulls it back out, her finger is coated in her wetness. She slides it back in and out, repeatedly, each time grinding her palm against her clit when she’s as deep as she can get. Her skin is flushed, a sheen of sweat coating her brow.
“Two,” I say, and this time when she slides out, she reenters with her ring finger too. Her hips rise off the altar, and she calls out my name.
“Look at me,” I demand.
Her eyes meet mine, lust-filled. On the precipice of complete and total oblivion. Just where I want her.
“Stop.” She pulls her fingers free but returns to circling her clit, ignoring my demand.
“I said stop.” This time, I grind the words out, make her feel them as much as hear them. She pauses, realization seeping in.
I make no move toward her, even though every fiber of my being wants to touch her, taste her. Partly because I like the control, but mostly because I’m not sure I could stop if I started.
“You’re now mine. I own you. You make no plans without me. You honor no contracts without my approval. Every freedom you had is now forfeit unless I say otherwise. Nod if you understand.”
“I understand,” she grinds out through clenched jaws, refusing to do as she’s told. I almost force the issue, force her to nod like I commanded, but this is still a win. Turning my back on her, I tuck my shirt back into my pants and adjust my cock then walk out, leaving her naked, spread wide and craving something she will not receive.
Not today.
Chapter Seven
NOLAN
Humiliation cripples me, forcing me to lie here on the cold, hard church altar. Never in my life has a man denied me, played with me, and discarded me like yesterday’s leftovers. One thing is certain. King isn’t the typical man, but then again, I’m not your everyday gal, either.
It’s this thought that has me rising to search for my discarded clothing. This reminder that has the humiliation fading, replaced by calculating, conniving rage. Rage that I let fuel my steps as I climb down and slide my panties back on, followed by my jeans and sandals. I gather my belongings and send a text to the group chat letting the girls know I’m fine. They were worried sick, judging by the number of texts waiting for me.
Just one more reason to make King pay. His earlier order flashes through my mind. No plans. No contracts. Nothing without his approval. Well, looks like someone should have warned King about me and rules. I accepted his demand, choked out a response even.
But I am Nolan Pierce, and I am a fucking liar.
I run through everything I already know about King, which admittedly isn’t as much as I’d like. Until the run-in at my father’s office, I thought King was much older. Late fifties at least. I should’ve spent last night gathering information rather than drowning in tequila, but in the moment, I thought he was spilling all my secrets to my father at best, coming to kill me at worst. The fact that he did neither only adds to the list of things I don’t know about him.
The King I heard stories about would have. That King wouldn’t have thought twice about slitting my throat in front of my father.
The sun is high in the sky when I step outside the church and lock the doors. Despite having my entire life flipped on its axis in the last two days, the world is still turning. Life continues as if nothing has changed. I take the steps down two at a time and head back home. While walking, I schedule an Uber to pick me up in order to retrieve my car from the restaurant where I left it parked yesterday. Once that task is complete, I open the notes app on my phone and make a list of things I need to do.
Step one: find out anything and everything I can on King.
Step two: hunt him down and destroy him.
Lucky for me, I know the perfect person to help with step one.
My Uber pulls up moments after I arrive. I climb inside and contemplate how to broach the subject with my father for the entire ten-minute drive. In the end, I don’t have to do anything.
