All my clothes are pulled from my body, and then I feel Slade press himself along my back, his bare chest flattening against me. His jean-clad hips push into my bare ass, and he thrusts his hips so that his hard erection drives into my lower back, causing me to moan.
A hand fists in my hair, reminding me that I’m not supposed to be acting like I’m enjoying this. I sense him doing something behind me, and I find fabric pressed against my mouth and then quickly tightened. I frown as he gags me. He knows I don’t like it, but occasionally, I’ll go with it. I could have done without the gag tonight, but I don’t want to ruin the fun.
My wrists are yanked behind my back, and a thin cord is wrapped tightly around them. The cords aren’t as comfortable as the silk restraints, but they’re Slade’s favorite.
Next thing I know, I’m hauled across the room and tossed down onto the bed, face first. I turn my head to the side, and Slade’s body presses into mine. His hands are all over my body, and then one slips between my legs, and he shoves two fingers into me.
It feels good, and I arch my hips, wanting more.
Slade changes his tactics, and he gently begins sliding his fingers in and out of me as his teeth trail across my bare shoulder. I move restlessly beneath him, aching for more. Just when I’m close to coming, he shifts and flips me onto my back.
I like being able to look up at him, and in the red light, he looks dark and dangerous. Sometimes, when I’m with Slade, I imagine he’s Colt—but not tonight. Colt would never be this rough, that I am certain of. His biggest fear is losing control and harming a woman.
Wait…what the fuck?
Slade hovers above me, a knife in his hand as he gazes down at my naked body.
My eyes widen. Weapons have never been a part of our games. What the hell? I don’t like being vulnerable to his machinations when risk is involved.
His sensuous lips curve up into a sinister smile as he lifts the knife to his palm and draws it across his skin. Blood drips down to my breasts, and I stop breathing as he cocks his head at me, the knife still in his hand.
I’m not sure what reaction he’s hoping for, but I can’t hide my uneasiness. This is new, and I don’t like it. He must read my thoughts in my eyes, because he tosses the knife to the floor before leaning over me, rubbing his bloodied hand across my breasts.
Now that the knife is gone, the moment of fear I’d had dissipates. I’m a little confused as to why he’s coating me with his blood, but every time his fingers rub across my nipples, pleasure rushes between my legs. His head lowers, and he lightly taunts the distended tips with his tongue, causing me to squirm beneath him as the blood is forgotten.
His hand reaches for my clit, and I widen my legs as he rubs the sensitive nub. I’m writhing beneath him, ready for him to stop the torment and give me what I want. Just when I’m about to explode with pleasure, his fingers leave me.
My eyes fly open, and I glare with frustration until I see that he’s eased back so he can remove his jeans. His dick is hard and ready, and he moves back to me the second he pulls on the condom. His hands grab my thighs and parts them wider. Then, he’s pushing into me to the hilt. With my wrists bound behind me, my hips are titled upwards, and I practically roll my eyes with pleasure as he begins to thrust into me at a fast pace. My eyes close, and I shove my hips upwards to meet his.
One of his hands shoves my hair away from my face, and then both his hands clamp around my neck. My eyes fly open as his body moves above mine, his strong hands tightening around my neck.
I try shaking my head to let him know that this isn’t what I want, he should know that. We’d tried this once before, and I’d hated it. Instead of releasing me, his hands continue to tighten as he pistons in and out of me.
I can’t breathe.
Panic takes over, and I begin to struggle beneath him.
Slade groans, his hips moving faster and harder as I fight to draw in precious oxygen.
This can’t be happening!
Even as my body enjoys his thrusting, I am freaking out in the inside. The grip on my neck hurts, and I can feel darkness beginning to cloud my vision. Last time, he hadn’t choked me this hard. Something’s changed tonight.
The fight begins to leave my body as darkness quickly takes over. Just when I think I’m going to lose consciousness, I hear Slade let out a guttural groan of pleasure before he goes still, and his hands release my throat. Oxygen floods my throat and lungs, and I greedily gulp in as much air as I can beneath the gag.
He’s dead.
I’m going to fucking kill him.
I am beyond furious, and I glare at Slade as he eases off me. His eyes are heavy-lidded, and he looks completely satisfied. When he reaches for the gag, his eyes connect with mine. There’s no remorse in his gaze, but there is a glint in his eye that’s disturbing.
The gag is pulled away from my lips, and I swallow and sort out how I want to handle this situation. This is a side of Slade that’s new to me. Yes, I’ve always sensed he could be dangerous, but he’s never taken things this far before. When he motions for me to turn around so he can release my bound hands, I flatten my lips and turn, giving him my bare back.
As he works at the bindings, my anger begins to get the better of me. I feel used, and I realize now that he doesn’t give a shit about my feelings. He’d wanted to play out his fantasy tonight regardless of whether I was comfortable with it or not. And what the fuck? Blood?
When my hands are free, I react without thinking. I spin around and pull back my fist, slamming it into his jaw before he can see it coming. Pain radiates throughout my hand and wrist, and as Slade recoils from the blow, I cradle my hand to my chest and scramble to my feet. “You fucker!” I spat.
Slade springs forward and backhands me, sending me sprawling across the bed. “You hit me, I hit back,” he says in a flat tone.
I lie there, stunned.
The music is still playing in the apartment, and it sinks in that I don’t know a damned thing about him. Slowly, I sit up and turn to face him.
He stands there, still naked and looking like sin. The expression on his face has calmed as he watches my next move. My eyes drop to his hand, and a droplet of blood falls to the carpet. His blood…it’s all over me. I feel sick. When my eyes lift to his face once more, I note that his focus is now on my lower lip, where the skin had split and is now bleeding.
The look on his face…
I’m beginning to realize it for what it is.
He has a blood fetish.
Definitely not normal, and I need to tread carefully.
Slade frowns, and he transforms right before my eyes, morphing into a man that looks concerned and remorseful. “Stay put,” he says over the music before he disappears out of sight.
That remorse, I don’t believe it for a second.
I dart off the bed and hurry to my clothes strewn across the floor. I slip on the lingerie and short dress as fast I can, and I shove my feet into my high heels. I’m anxious to get away from him.
Slade appears in the doorway, and a frown mars his handsome face when he sees that I’m fully dressed. “It was reflex, Quinn.”
“Is that what the asphyxiation was too?” I ask sarcastically, wiping the blood off my chin.
“You said to fuck you to oblivion. Asphyxiation heightens pleasure,” he reminds.
“You know damn well that wasn’t what I was referring to. You also knew that I never wanted to revisit that fantasy of yours again.”
His eyes shift. “You and I both know that we’re well beyond harmless games, Quinn.”
Unease slithers through me. “Why the blood?” I ask, controlling my emotions. Answers first, and then I’m getting the hell out of here and never coming back.
He shrugs. “Blood’s nothing new.”
He’s right. Last time I’d been on my period, he’d wanted to fuck me. I’d declined until he’d talked me into it. I’d found it gross, but he’d seemed to enjoy it. I nod to his hand. “That is.”
<
br /> He doesn’t say anything.
I was a fool to think that I could control him, and I’d had no idea that the blood was an actual fetish. He’d also just choked the shit out of me and had enjoyed every second of it. The thought of hurting me like that had turned him on.
This is the moment that my lust for him turns to hate. He’d gagged me so that I couldn’t tell him to stop what he was doing. I’d been vulnerable to whatever he’d wanted, and I feel disgusted with myself for allowing things to get this far. Yes, I’ve always enjoyed letting him take control, but this went way beyond that.
Tonight was unforgivable.
“It’s late,” I say after the lengthy pause, keeping my tone neutral. I can dwell on how horrifically wrong this night had gone when I get home. Right now, I want to leave Slade’s place without further confrontation.
Slade nods. “Next time’s yours,” he says lightly.
The fact that he thinks there’s a next time or that giving me a night of control makes up for tonight—has me feeling sick. How could I have been oblivious to how disturbed he really is?
My gut tells me to smile and bow out as gracefully as I can. I manage to pass off a wobbly smile for one of acceptance. “Sure,” I lie.
“Want a ride home?”
“I’ll just call a cab.”
He nods, and his eyes shift towards his discarded jeans on the floor. “I need to get back to work. I’ll walk you down and call you a cab.”
Once he’s dressed, we make our way downstairs, and I walk through the bar without ever turning back. I know better than to go outside and wait, so I linger near the door. As I watch for the cab, I ignore the drunken assholes that are crudely commenting on what they’d like to do to me. Little do they know, I’ve already suffered through a nightmare, and I’m anxious to escape it.
When the cab pulls up in front of the building, I fold my arms across my chest and hurriedly exit the bar. I can still feel Slade’s blood where it had dried to my skin, and I can’t wait to shower.
The second I climb into the backseat, I shudder.
Worst birthday ever.
Two
Quinn
Someone’s shaking my shoulder. “You sick or did you sleep through your alarm?” I hear Gabe ask. The voice could belong to Channing, I suppose, since they’re twins, but I’m assuming it’s Gabe. The few times I’ve slept through my alarm, he’s been kind enough to drag my ass out of bed.
I groan. “I’m awake,” I grumble, and my voice sounds thick and a little hoarse. My throat also aches. Strange.
“You sound sick.”
I roll onto my back and shove my hair away from my face. “Not sick. Just wish I could sleep longer.” My eyes open, and I find Gabe leaning over me. Sunlight’s trying to sneak past the blinds in my room, and even in the dim shadows, I can see that his eyes are fixated on my lips.
That’s when I recall what had gone down last night.
Shit.
Gabe abruptly pushes away from my bed and stalks over to the light switch. Light floods my room, and I squint and cover my face with my folded arms as I try to sort out how to deal with this mess.
Now that I’m fully awake, I’m aware that my lower lip is stinging where the skin had split, and my neck is slightly sore. Shit, shit, shit. How the hell do I explain any of this to him? Much less the others? Oh God… Colt.
“Let me see,” Gabe demands, his voice close now. He’s likely hovering over me.
“I’m fine. It’s nothing,” I mutter.
“I said let me see.”
I sigh with irritation and drop my arms. “See? It’s just a little cut.” Before he can move closer, I sit up. “I’m a big girl, Gabe. It was just a little argument that got out of hand.” I hate lying, but there’s no way I’m confessing everything that had gone wrong last night.
Gabe’s staring at me. No, not at me. He’s staring at my neck with a look of alarm mixed with fury.
Oh no… Had Slade left bruises around my neck? I hadn’t considered that possibility, but with as hard as he’d choked me—and judging by Gabe’s growing horror…
My life is seriously going to shit.
“Quinn, what happened last night?” he asks softly as his eyes roam over the rest of my body, likely searching for further bruising.
Okay, time to salvage what I can from this mess. “I’m done with him. The second he hurt me, I left him. I’m never going to see him again,” I assure, hoping that I can prevent this from turning into something that it’s not.
Gabe’s silent as he stands there, his eyes watching me intently. The tension in his body betrays that he doesn’t believe me.
I rise from the bed, my eyes firm on his. “I swear it, Gabe. I won’t tolerate anyone hurting me. Last night was the first time he’s ever hit me, and it’s the last.”
“You need to tell me how it went down.”
That’s never going to happen. I glance at the clock on my nightstand. “I’m going to be late. I have to shower and split.”
His rigid posture warns that he’s not going anywhere. “You need to tell me what happened before Colt finds out.”
The blood drains from my face as it begins to sink in just how bad this situation could turn. Colt’s extremely protective of me, and he has a hair-trigger temper. It’s one of the reasons he’d sought out the MMA scene. He’d needed a safe outlet for his natural affinity towards violence.
Gabe steps towards me, his eyes dead serious. “You can’t hide that lip or the bruises, Quinn. He’s going to find out, and I think it’s wise to control how he finds out. Do you understand?”
I slowly nod. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that someone needs to talk to him before he sees you. He already left for the day, thank God.”
“You’ll talk to him?”
His brows furrow as if envisioning the dreaded task of informing Colt of my newest disaster. “Yeah, someone has to. Quinn, I need to know what happened. He’s going to need to know, too. You understand that, right?”
I reach up and rub my temple. I could lie, but lies always have a way of unraveling. Plus, lying is something we all try to avoid with each other. It’s best to be as truthful as possible.
Gabe moves closer, his eyes urging me to confide in him. “You can talk to me about anything.”
I drop my hand, sighing. “It’s just a case of foreplay gone wrong. I got mad and hit him. He hit back.” There.
Gabe gapes at me. Whatever he was expecting me to confess, it wasn’t that.
“Oh come on, choking someone during sex isn’t anything new,” I say flippantly, trying to brush off the entire ordeal. Easier said than done. Last night is going to bother me for a long time to come.
“Quinn,” he says slowly, finding his voice. “There’s an enormous difference between asphyxiation for pleasure, and whatever the fuck he did to you last night. There shouldn’t be bruises. You get that, right?”
“I’m not a moron,” I snap. “I know the difference, and he got caught up in the moment.” I point to my throat. “This is never happening again.”
His eyes search mine. “Are you okay? I mean really okay, Quinn?” he asks in a soft, deliberate tone.
I look at him with confusion until I realize he’s asking if Slade had raped me. There’s such a fine line with what had happened last night. I’d been a little uneasy, but it had all been consensual until the choking part. It hadn’t been the sex I’d been trying to halt, it had been his hold on my throat.
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “The only thing that wasn’t consensual was the choking bit.”
Gabe scrubs a hand over his face. “Colt’s not going to let this go,” he warns.
“He’ll have to. I’m never going to see this guy again. It’s done, there’s no point in dwelling over it.”
He shakes his head. “Colt’s going to want payback. Shit like that doesn’t go over well with him.” He looks at me with disappointment. “This could go south real fast, Quinn.”
His disappointment brings an ache to my chest. I’m the one that screws up the most around here, and I’m fully aware of it. Now I’ve gone and done something so stupid that it’s going to cause Colt—the one person I love more than anyone else—to struggle with his sense of right and wrong. He will defend family whether it costs him or not. That’s just the way he is. If he can get his hands on Slade, I’m certain Slade won’t walk away unscathed from the confrontation. Part of me would love for Slade to get his, but I love Colt too much to allow that.
“Don’t give him his name,” Gabe says with a hint of finality in his tone. This conversation is almost over, thank God.
“I wouldn’t have anyway,” I say quietly.
He’s silent a moment. “If you need me, I’m here for you.” His eyes linger on my throat. “What you went through last night, you didn’t deserve that, Quinn. The bastard should pay, but not by Colt’s hands.”
“Agreed.”
He nods and slips out of my room, quietly closing the door.
The second he’s gone, I drop my head into my hands and groan. As much as I want to process how badly this morning is unfolding, I know I can’t or I’ll be late. I hurriedly grab fresh clothing, my mind racing. This mess with Slade is going to destroy everything if I don’t find a way to tone down the severity of it.
I quickly head down the hall to the bathroom, and after tossing fresh clothes on the counter, I turn on the shower. I’d taken a shower last night upon arriving home, so I technically don’t need one. However, I’d like to avoid the inevitable questions I’ll receive if I show my face in the kitchen.
This thing with Slade is unsettling, and there’s a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach that won’t go away. I’d let him into my life knowing that he would likely be bad for me, but I hadn’t been able to resist.
That’s my biggest problem.
I don’t think things through when it comes to men. I live in the moment and worry about the consequences later. Now if I were more like Harper, I would have known better than to mess with someone who could practically be Colt’s twin.
What the hell had I been thinking?
No Going Back (Revolving Door Book 3) Page 2
