Page 57 of Deadmen's Queen
“I said, look at me,” I ordered.
To my surprise, he opened his eyes.
“You are not a monster. You are not a rapist and you are nothing, nothing like him. You’re a beautiful, damaged man that holds me every night before we sleep. Who hurts someone who puts me in danger? Who carries me to the bath and washes my body so tenderly? Who sets my soul aflame with his kisses?”
I pressed my lips against him, shaking with pure emotion, needing him to see what I did.
“If you really wanted to hurt me, to rape me, you would have. But you don’t, Nate. You just said, you want me to beg for you. You still want my consent, you just want to be rough, and I don’t think it’s because you’re a monster. I think it’s because you’re an intense person who feels so deeply and you bottle everything up inside till it explodes out of you.”
Another tear escaped, and this time I leaned forward kissing it away.
“I know this is you, because it’s me too. And I love the way the other guys care for me, but right now, I don’t want to be treated like I’m made of glass. I want you, Nate. I want you so badly right now. And I’m begging for you, for your cock, for your pain.”
I rubbed myself over his cock, kissing across his cheekbone to his ear.
“Ruin me, baby.”
Chapter Twenty
PAIGE
Islid off Nate, my heart racing with anticipation. I stepped back, standing so he could see all of me, then I reached behind me and pulled down the zipper of my dress. Fabric whispered against my skin, then fell to the floor in a soft heap. I stepped out of the discarded clothing and began to step out of my heels.
“Keep those on,” Nate growled.
Heat flooded through me at the realisation he wasn’t going to stop me, and I stood there, waiting for him. He hesitated a moment, before getting to his feet.
With deliberate movements, Nate drew his white tie slowly from around his neck. His gaze held mine, unflinching, as he folded the silk fabric neatly around his hand.
“Back up,” he directed, voice low. “Put your hands against the bedpost.”
I did as he said, feeling the smooth wooden post between my shoulder blades and pressing against my ass. A memory from early flickered in my mind, and I let it linger. We were banishing ghosts tonight.
Nate's hands were gentle as he lifted my arms above my head, tying them securely with his tie. The silk bit tightly into my wrists letting me know I wasn't going anywhere—not that I wanted to.
“Is this what you want?” His voice was thick with desire.
“Yes,” I breathed out.
“Good.” Nate stood back, looking at me, his expression unreadable.
“What’s your safe word?” Nate asked.
“Pomegranate,” I whispered back.
He almost smiled, as he let out a huff of amusement. Pomegranate was the fruit Hades has used to trap Persephone in the underworld with him forever.
“You tap out three times with your hand or foot if you can’t speak and it's too much.” His words were strict but his eyes searched mine, looking for any sign of hesitation.
I nodded, my throat tight. The seriousness in his voice grounded me, even as my heart raced with anticipation.
Nate reached for his belt, the sound of leather sliding through loops filled the charged silence. He folded it double, and in one fluid motion, struck me across my legs. I gasped at the unexpected sting. He did it again and again, leaving red stripes across my thighs. Each blow got harder, and I whimpered, biting down on my lip. I could tell he wasn’t hitting me with his full force, but it hurt like hell. I writhed against the bedpost, as blow after blow landed, but I refused to use my safe word. After twelve lashes, he stopped.
“Let’s see if you were lying to me,” he said, his voice cold.
He moved closer, sliding the belt around my neck, and fastening on the tightest loop he could without cutting off my air. It was snug, a firm pressure that commanded my attention, yet I could draw breath without struggle.
“Too tight?” he asked, his fingers lingering on the buckle, poised to adjust.