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“Ash,” Sawyer murmured my name, playing into my hand all too easily. This…this was going to be too easy, really. I kind of expected him to put up more of a fight.
I moved my lips to his ear, whispering in what I knew was my best seductive voice, “Keep those eyes closed, Sawyer. I have a surprise for you, but I don’t want you to see it.” I practically purred it out, and I could feel his dick practically turn to steel beneath me.
What an idiot.
I kissed his collarbone while reaching to the backpack, slowly unzipping it. I guess I should be thankful that the Brooklyn bitch wasn’t here, otherwise this definitely wouldn’t have been going so smoothly. This whole thing was a long time coming, but I owed the nature of it to Brooklyn and her wonderful friends.
“Have you ever been dominated before, Sawyer?” I purred out, my hand touching something hard and metal in the backpack. He started to open his eyes, but I quickly added, “If you open those eyes, I’m going to walk out of that door and never come back. If you keep them closed, I think you’ll be surprised at what’s going to happen here tonight.”
Not saying what’s going to happen would be good, but I’d sure as shit get a few laughs out of it.
Sawyer said nothing, panting hard under me. I couldn’t help but smile as I lifted my face from his neck in order to see what I was doing. I grabbed his right arm—he was a righty, after all, so it was important to do that arm first—and lifted it towards the bedframe. The idiot with the hard cock let me, totally unaware of what I was really doing.
Chaining him. I was chaining him to his own bed, using some of Travis’s things. Big, metal cuffs, the same cuffs I’d broken myself out of. I had the key stashed in a tinier compartment of the backpack, and I’d let Sawyer go in the morning, after it was done and I had my blackmail pictures.
Sawyer let me do his right wrist, chaining him to his bedframe, but when the metal clicked shut and clamped around his skin, he started to open his eyes. I leaned over him, my blonde and pink hair draping around his face. “Ah, ah, ah, Sawyer,” I whispered, running a hand down his stubbly face before I went for the other pair of cuffs in the backpack. “Remember what I said.”
He let out a groan, grinding his hips up against me, making me feel his erection even more, but he closed his eyes like a good little boy. I’d probably get him to swear off alcohol completely, before this weekend was done. I grabbed his other arm and did the same thing, and within moments, I had Sawyer chained to his own bed, quite helpless under me.
God, he looked hot, even when so drunk he was too incoherent to realize when he was being had. His square jaw, the blonde hair on his head, the muscles that went on for days…there was not a single thing about his body I’d change. His personality? That was what needed work, and honestly I didn’t know anybody who was up for that particular job.
I ran my hands down his chest, once again straddling him. Beneath me, his hard-on pressed against his jeans, and even though I shouldn’t, I ground down on it a bit. Having him beneath me, pretty much powerless, was so tempting, and I knew he’d enjoy every little bit of it, should I ever give into him, but I was a girl on a mission, and a girl on a mission didn’t press pause for some wild, drunk sex.
A girl on a mission completed the mission, no matter what.
“Oh, Sawyer,” I murmured his name, staring down at him. “You have no idea what I have in store for you.” I bent down, seeing that his eyes were still closed, and gave him a single peck on the lips. A soft kiss, much more gentle and clean than the one he’d given me earlier.
When the kiss was over, Sawyer muttered, “I’m tired.” Tired, even with an erection. Tired, even though we were in his bed and he was chained up. Damn, he must’ve had way too much to drink tonight.
I leaned down to whisper, “Then go to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.” A promise, although I didn’t quite mean it how he took it. Really, with the stench of hard alcohol coming from him, it was a wonder he wasn’t already passed out.
I waited for unconsciousness to take him, and I didn’t have to wait long. Within ten minutes, he was passed out, even with me on top of him. I stared at him for a bit, feeling…not exactly sad or guilty, but something. Almost like deep down I wished I didn’t have to do this, wished there was another way.
Alas, there wasn’t. Sawyer and I were on the same track, but facing opposite directions. It was only a matter of time until we crashed head-on.
Once I was certain he was passed out, I dug in the backpack for the other item I brought. This wasn’t Travis’s; it was mine. Normally I diluted it with some white conditioner to get a lighter pink color, but on Sawyer, I was thinking some nice electric pink would go great with his complexion.
Gloves were next. Unless the dye was diluted, that shit stained. It would stain his sheets and maybe even his bedpost, but I didn’t care. He had more than enough money to pay for replacements for all of it.
After the gloves were on, I twisted open the bottle of dye. My hair dye wasn’t the kind you found in the department stores in boxes. No developer needed. This dye didn’t go into the hair follicle; it just stained it from the outside, and it was healthy for hair, no damaging ingredients, so I wouldn’t have to worry about washing it off. I’d leave Sawyer with the dye staining his hair all night.
Sawyer with electric pink hair. It was going to be a sight to see. And unlike the dye job Brooklyn had, his was going to look good. I’d been doing my own hair for a few years now. I knew how to get the color even.
I dipped two fingers into the jar, scooping out a big glob of pink. It smelled a bit fruity, a welcome scent compared to the booze that radiated with each breath of Sawyer’s. And then I got to work.
He stirred a bit, but he did not wake fully. I just hoped he didn’t wake up with a need to vomit, because ew. I did not want to be dying his hair with vomit right next to us. That was nasty, but I knew drunk people threw up all the time. Please, give me a little luck tonight. A little luck would be nice, for once. I seemed to have it on super short supply here at Hillcrest.
In less than twenty minutes, the jar of dye was mostly empty, and I had it all on Sawyer’s hair. He was lucky, really, that I wasn’t dying his eyebrows too. I ran my gloved hands through his hair, massaging his scalp, making sure the dye saturated every single strand.
Oh, yeah. Thank you for this wonderful idea, Brooklyn.
Or maybe I should thank Sawyer’s twisted little mind. I doubted Brooklyn wanted to dye her hair pink to begin with; I bet it was Sawyer who wanted her as my lookalike. Fuck, I still got ticked off when I thought about it. I mean, who the hell was he to make a girl look like me? Where did he get off?
Clearly, he got off inside Brooklyn, but that wasn’t the point. The point was he made her look like me, all because he couldn’t have the real thing. Well, guess what, Sawyer, knock-offs were never made as well as the brand itself. Brooklyn was the cheap, knock-off brand you ordered off Amazon from China from a seller with a shitty star rating. I was the real deal, and I was pissed.
Once his hair was saturated in electric pink, I moved off him, tearing off the gloves and tossing them on the bed beside him. I took my backpack, dropping it to the floor so it wouldn’t be in any of the upcoming shots, and got out my phone.
Now, it was picture time. Once he was more sober, once Sawyer was able to wake up and realize just what I’d done—I’d be videotaping that shit.
