Page 36 of Vicious

I dig my nails into his shoulders, willing him to stop, but he just keeps going—on and on, as he barrels toward his own climax while sending me on an unwelcome path of my own. His thrusts get faster, more determined, and I find myself crying out in what’s not entirely pain.

Or maybe the pleasure is because of the pain.

Chase’s movements stop, and somehow, I’m left looking him directly in the eyes, our faces barely an inch apart.

There’s something vulnerable about his post-orgasm expression, and that scares me almost worse than our position in the water.

“Let me go,” I say harshly. “I’m hungry.”

Chase shakes his head and laughs. “Yeah. I’m probably running very late. Let’s get you all set up in your room again.” He slowly pulls out of me and leads me back to the shallower end of the pool. As soon as I’m able, I put my feet flat on the ground and walk myself out the rest of the way.

“I’ll put swim lessons on your calendar,” Chase says as he pulls a towel out of a nearby cabinet. “I really can’t have you drowning when we’re having fun.” He hands the towel to me, and I snatch it away from him.

“Great,” I say sarcastically. “I get a social calendar. What is it? Fucking, fucking, swimming, eating, and more fucking?”

“Sounds about right,” Chase says with amusement. “It’s better than my calendar, in any case.” He lets out a frustrated groan. “I think I’m meeting with that asshole from Georgia Pharma this morning. You think I’m bad… Anyway.” He pulls his pants on but doesn’t bother with his shirt. “We’ll grab the tray of food for you in the kitchen, and then it’s back to your lovely cell, Ah-May.”

“I can hardly wait,” I mutter.

Back to my cell.

Wonderful.

At least I have the sewing machine to keep me occupied—that, and the ache in my cunt from how hard he’d fucked me.

CHAPTER 9

Chase

I was right that my breakfast meeting was with that asshole from Georgia Pharma, and the day didn’t get any better from there. The paralegal forgot to include half the case files I’d asked for, I have a stack of contracts I still need to go through, and one of the merger contracts we thought was a done deal suddenly had extra snags thrown at us.

I end up staying at the office until 9 p.m., and I only realize it’s time to go when the custodian pops into the office to empty my trash can.

Fuck. I’d had lovely plans for today involving ropes and May screaming as I used one of the harsher floggers on her, and…

I’ll be lucky if I can even lift an arm by the time I get home.

“Thanks,” I mumble to the custodian as I shut my laptop. I’ll have to do some of this work at home.

It’s late enough that I can take a cab home without wasting too much time, and it’s worth it for the convenience of not having to deal with the subway station. There’s nothing wrong with public transportation, but changing lines feels like too much work at this point.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I finally set foot into my house. I set my briefcase down on the kitchen island and head for the fridge to find one of the prepped meals.

I need to take food down for May, too. She’s probably dying of loneliness. I wonder if that’s preferable to this bone-deep weariness I feel right now.

Once I’ve changed into more casual clothes and warmed up the food, I take the tray and head down to the basement. The door has a simple door code lock, and I enter the 4-digit pin to unlock it.

“My stomach is trying to eat my internal organs,” May says, glaring at me from where she’s sitting on the bed, tossing what looks like a ball into the air and catching it.

I laugh despite myself. “Sorry about that. Work got away from me.” I look around the room for a good place to set the food tray down, but the table is covered in sewing supplies and the bedside table has the tray from this morning on it.

“So, what’s on the agenda for this evening? Spanking me until I can’t sit for three days? Slicing and dicing?” May asks nonchalantly, though a shudder runs through her. “Wait, don’t get any ideas on that last one.”

She’s wearing a dress, I notice. It’s a simple one, and it seems a little loose on her, but considering she has no patterns and has to work with a half-sized pair of scissors, it’s remarkable work for a single day.

“No slicing and dicing,” I say. I try to figure out what I do want to do, and I still don’t have the energy for any of it. “Do you want to go out to the rec room and watch a movie while we eat?”

May stops short, missing catching the “ball” I realize is made out of scraps of cloth. It falls onto the bed, and she outright stares at me. “I’m sorry, what? I could’ve sworn you just treated me like a human for 12.5 seconds.”