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I took him into my mouth, my tongue swirling around him, drawing a sharp intake of breath from above. The taste of him, the realness of it, grounded me in the moment. I was doing this. I was on my knees, taking orders from a guy who probably got off on control more than he did on the act itself. But the way he groaned, the way his grip tightened just a fraction...
"Fuck, just like that," he growled, and I hated that it spurred me on, that his pleasure sparked mine. He demonstrated, with infuriating patience, how he wanted it – faster, slower, deeper. It was like he had a fucking manual in his head for how to drive me insane. Every direction was a testament to his dominance, to the game we were playing. And I was losing, or winning, depending on how you looked at it.
"Remember, Celeste," he murmured, his voice rough with need, "this is just the beginning, Little Shadow," Nash's voice was a dark melody that vibrated through my bones as I followed his every command. His approval sent a shiver down my spine, and yet, the quiver in my gut reminded me this wasn't just a game of pleasure, it was a dance with power itself.
"Stand up," he instructed, his gaze never leaving mine. As I rose to my feet, I couldn't help but feel like an artist stepping back from a canvas, the painting not quite complete but already consuming me. The excitement racing through my veins was laced with a vulnerability that made me want to both run away and dive deeper into whatever twisted masterpiece we were creating.
"Listen carefully," Nash began, circling me like a predator assessing its prey. "There are rules you'll abide by, Celeste. Disobedience will have its consequences." His words felt like a brush dipped in ice-cold water trailing down my spine, setting every nerve on alert.
Fuck the rules. I thought, even as I nodded, my eyes locked onto his, challenging him silently. But the truth was, his dominance was a language that my body was learning fast—too fast.
"Rewards," he continued, his voice dropping to a huskier tone, "will be given to those who comply, who trust me enough to surrender completely."
Trust wasn't a word in my goddamn vocabulary anymore, not after being betrayed by those closest to me. But here I was, contemplating the rewards of compliance like some starved animal. It was fucked up, how much I craved the promise hidden in his voice.
"Understand?" He stopped in front of me, close enough for me to feel the heat radiating from his body.
"Crystal fucking clear," I replied. Part of me screamed to defy him, but the part of me that was drawn to the darkness whispered seductively to just give in.
Nash's hand, an unyielding vise on my wrist, drew me closer to him, his other arm scooping beneath my knees. In a fluid motion that left my head spinning, he sat on the edge of his lavish bed and draped me ceremoniously over his knee. My heart thundered in my chest, echoing off the opulent walls of the grand suite.
"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, my pulse racing with equal parts dread and anticipation.
"Something wrong, Celeste?" His voice was a low rumble against my ear, deceptively calm. “My Little Shadow isn’t scared, is she?”
"Nothing I can't handle," I shot back, the words laced with a defiance I wasn't entirely sure I could muster. The cool air of the room kissed my exposed skin, raising goosebumps and making me acutely aware of just how vulnerable I was in this position.
"Good," Nash said simply, before a sharp slap landed across my ass. It was light, almost teasing, but enough to elicit a surprised gasp that escaped my lips.
"Jesus, Nash..." The protest died in my throat as another spank followed, slightly harder, challenging the fine line between discomfort and arousal.
"Focus," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. "Remember, every action has consequences."
"Sure as hell does," I groaned, but each word trembled with an undercurrent of excitement. I hated how my body betrayed me, responding to his touch like some goddamn Pavlovian experiment.
The spanks came in a steady rhythm now, each one a crescendo building upon the last. My cries filled the room, a tangled symphony of pain-laced pleasure that resonated deep within my core. With every strike, the sting spread, igniting a fire that threatened to consume me whole.
"Shit, Nash..." My voice cracked, the sharp edge dulling with every blow, leaving a raw, aching need in its wake. My fingers clenched into the luxurious sheets, gripping onto the last shreds of my control.
"Let go, Celeste," he urged, his hand pausing momentarily on my burning flesh. "Surrender to it."
"Fuck surrender," I spat out, even as I arched instinctively into his touch, craving more of that intoxicating blend of agony and ecstasy.
"Such a stubborn artist," Nash murmured, a trace of amusement in his voice. "But we both know you're already mine."
Goddamn him for being right.
His hand stilled, hovering over the heated skin, and I could almost feel his gaze burning into me. "Say it," he demanded, a note of anticipation creeping into his voice. “Say you’ll be a good girl for me.”
I bit my lip, wrestling with the words, before finally giving in to the undeniable truth.
"Good girl" slipped from my lips like a mantra, each repetition punctuated by the hot flush of my skin where his hand had left its mark. "I'll be a good girl for you," I declared, voice quivering between defiance and surrender, like the words were a lifeline—or a damn noose.
"Convincing, Celeste, but I think you can do better," Nash's voice teased from above me, his tone laced with that infuriating blend of control and temptation.
"Fuck you, Nash," I hissed under my breath, my stubborn pride clawing its way to the surface despite the ache that spread through me, an ache that craved his dominance, his approval. The sheets beneath my palms were twisted into knots, much like the turmoil unraveling inside me.
"Is that any way to speak to someone who holds your pleasure in his hands?" His words were a velvet caress, and I imagined his smirk, even without looking up at him.
