Filed to story: The LORDS Series Free PDF by Shantel Tessier
“Where are we going?” I whisper, biting my bottom lip nervously, wondering what now.
He looks over at me for a quick second before placing his eyes back on the road. “House of Lords,” he answers before “I Don’t Give A …” by MISSIO and Zeala begins to fill the car.
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WE PULL INTO the gate of the hotel, and he parks my car before opening my door for me.
Entering the place, it’s odd being here without it crowded with people. No flashing lights or blaring music. Just silence. “Everyone is still at the vow ceremony,” he states, knowing what I’m thinking.
He takes my hand and guides me to the bedroom where I once found my stranger in a mask. He steps into another door, and it’s his private bathroom. A long mirror and counter with double sinks are in front of us. A door to the right is where the toilet must be. To the left is a shower that runs the full length of the bathroom. It’s nothing but glass to see inside with three showerheads. One at each end and the third in the middle. The floor is white with dark gray walls. The countertop black. It’s weird to see nothing is cluttering it like all the stuff I leave out on mine.
He lets go of my hand, turning around, and his emerald eyes meet mine. My breath catches at the look in them.
He’s hungry.
They tell me everything that I was wondering. I know what we did in the woods was just a sample of what he wants from me.
“Take a shower.” His eyes look over my cum-covered, makeup-smeared face and then down over my body. “Get cleaned up.” Then he walks out, shutting me inside.
He didn’t tell me to hurry, so I take my time. The water hurts my wrists, but it’s not unbearable. I stand under the center sprayer and just enjoy the warm water before washing my hair with his shampoo. Then I use his bodywash, and it makes me wonder if this is why he brought me here. One more way to claim me. It’s hard to deny a man if you bathe in his scent.
Turning off the water, I exit the shower and dry off with a white towel I found hanging on a hook, being careful with my wrists. Looking around, I realize I don’t have anything to put on, but I have a feeling that’s on purpose.
I open the cabinet under one of the sinks and find mouthwash. Unscrewing the lid, I throw some back. I swish it around before spitting it in the sink. I’ve swallowed water that had no telling what was in it and cum. Multiple times. I’d like to brush my teeth, but mouthwash will do for now.
Taking in a deep breath, I open the door and step out into his bedroom. It’s what I would imagine a guy like Ryat to have-the dark walls are bare, and the bed is covered in black sheets, a black comforter, and two pillows with matching pillowcases. One tall dresser and one long dresser are dark gray. There’s no TV or mirror hanging. I never paid attention last time I was in here. Too drunk and also blindfolded.
He’s over by the long dresser with his back to me. He’s still wearing his wet clothes, and I see the way his shirt sticks to his back and arms. You can see every outline of muscle. They tense as he moves, digging around for something.
I clear my throat, and he shoves the drawer shut. Turning around, his tongue comes out, and he licks his lips while his green eyes look me over. “Drop the towel,” he orders, and my heart accelerates.
I reach up and untuck it from my underarms and let it fall to my feet. I already know he’s seen all of me. I swallowed that liquid, changed my clothes, crawled into bed, and woke up naked hours later. He had undressed me.
He walks over, his eyes on my breasts. Coming to a stop, he reaches out and cups my right one, and I moan as he squeezes it. He’s in no way gentle, but I love it. Whenever Matt and I would mess around, he’d be soft. I always felt like I wanted more.
Ryat lets go and slaps the side of it. Making the skin sting and the sound bounce off the walls in the room.
I jump back, gasping as a shock like electricity runs straight to my pussy, making it pulse and raise my hands to cover them. A cruel smile spreads across his face, knowing exactly what it did to me. Reaching behind, he pulls the handcuffs out of his back pocket, and I whimper at the sight of them. The cuts they left on my wrists start to throb once again.
“Put your hands down to your sides, or they’ll go behind your back.”
A choice. Willingly or forcefully. Why do I want him to force me? He arches a brow at my hesitation and steps closer to me, but at the last second, I decide to lower them to my sides.
“You’re such a good girl,” he whispers lovingly as he tosses the cuffs to the bed.
A weird sense of disappointment washes over me that I chickened out. He said he would hurt me, and I want that. If there’s no pain, then how do you know you’re alive?
“Aren’t you?” he asks. Lifting his hand to run his knuckles over the tops of my breast, he forces my thoughts elsewhere. My nipples harden as they travel lower over them.
I want to be his good girl, but in a bad way. “Yes,” I breathe. My body has never felt so alive. So needy for something that it’s already had. I didn’t get off when he fucked me. But I have a feeling that was the point. It was a show of ownership, even if no one was watching.
His eyes go to my neck. “Whose good girl are you?”
“Yours,” I answer softly.
“Mine,” he agrees.
He slaps the side of my breast again, and I yelp. It wasn’t as hard as the first time, but it catches me off guard. My hands go to shoot up, but I shove them back down to my sides.
The corners of his lips slowly turn up before showing me his gorgeous smile. That alone has more wetness pooling between my legs. The man knows exactly what he’s doing.
He does it again, harder this time, and I throw my head back, closing my eyes and letting out a cry. But it’s not because it hurts. It feels so good.
He does the other one, and I moan this time, my body just slightly jerking, starting to adjust to the sting.
“You like that, don’t you, Blake?” His voice is full of amusement. “So much potential for my chosen one.”
I’m not sure what that means, and I’m not about to ask.
“Look at me,” he orders, all sense of humor gone.
I open my eyes and lower my head to stare up at him. His gaze drops to my breasts. Reaching out, he takes both my hard nipples between his fingers, and he pinches them. Hard. I rise up on my tiptoes, screaming out, and he yanks me closer to him by them. I’m panting as he holds me in place. I fist my hands down by my sides, sucking in a deep breath.
Letting go of them, I cry again at the sensation it gives. It felt good. So good. “Get your heels.” He nods to the bathroom door behind me and then turns, going back to the dresser.
I walk into the bathroom to find them lying on the floor where I had taken them off for my shower. They’re still wet, and I pour what little bit of water remains inside into the sink and go back to the bedroom.
“Put them on,” he orders, not even bothering to look at me.
Using the wall as support, I slide my feet into the six-inch Guccis. They’re cold from the water, and my feet are already so sore from wearing them earlier. But I’m not telling him that. I kinda like the pain.
He turns around, and I notice he has something in his hand. He tosses it onto the bed. My eyes go to see what it is, but he reaches out and grabs me, pulling me toward him.
I trip in my heels, falling into him, and he catches me. Bringing me over to the foot of the bed, he spins me around to where I face it and lightly smacks my ass. “Spread your legs. As far as you can.”
I see that he had thrown my underwear from earlier in the middle. He smacks my ass again, getting my attention. And I place my hands on the black footboard for support to spread them as far as they’ll go. He bends down next to my left ankle, and I watch him reach under and pull out a chain. It’s short, attached to a black leather cuff, and the other end is attached to the post. He wraps it around my ankle, securing the buckle. I pull on it just to see how much slack it has. There’s none. Then he walks around to the other ankle, pulls it even farther to the other corner post, and does the same.
Standing behind me, he places his hand on my back and pushes me to lean over the footboard. It’s a little higher than where my hips are, so I have to get up on my tiptoes to where it doesn’t dig into my stomach.
The moment my face hits the bed, I feel the muscles in my legs pull tight from the position. I suck in a breath, trying to readjust myself, but it’s not going to matter. I don’t think it’s supposed to be comfortable.
He walks over to the left side and bends down, grabbing another chain from underneath the bed. “Right arm.”
I slide my left to him, and he just stares at me. “Right arm …?” I trail off, repeating what he said, but he’s on the left side of the bed.
Leaning over, he grips my right hand and yanks it across the bed toward him. He wraps the leather cuff around it, securing it, and I almost smile at the feel of them. They’re not nearly as bad as the handcuffs. Then he walks back around behind me and to the right. This time, he doesn’t even say anything. He just grabs my left hand, crossing it over my right one, and secures that wrist too.
My whole body is pulled tight, my upper body twisted like a pretzel. My neck and chin sit on my upper arms, which makes it hard to breathe.
He opens up the top drawer to the nightstand and pulls out a small roll of duct tape. My breathing picks up. He disappears behind me, and I try to look over my shoulders, but I can’t. My arms crossed restrict the movement of my head.
His wet jeans rub against my thighs before he leans over my back, pressing my hips further into the footboard. The edge of the wood, digging into my skin, makes me whimper.
Reaching out, he grabs the underwear. With his free hand, he grips my chin and pulls it up off my arms, forcing my neck to arch back at a painful angle. Without saying a word, he shoves the underwear into my mouth, and then I hear the tape being ripped off. He slaps it over my lips, securing the underwear in my mouth like earlier. At least they’re not drenched in water this time, but they’re still damp.
He gathers all my hair and holds it at the base of my neck, still yanking my head back. “A chosen one must understand patience.”