Page 76 of SNOB

“We have to let her go,” he says, his words rolling through me. “She’s collateral damage.” Gray’s words in my head, I can’t help but wonder when I’ll be collateral too. I try to move towards Greta but his grip tightens, turning my body to his. “You step out there and there’s no coming back from it, Everett. I won’t help you.”

But I try again. This isn’t her fault. Mac stops me with a tug on my arm. He pulls me away from the crowd, his grip tight on my skin. Glancing back, Greta disappears as my Oxfords stumble over each other.

“As for you? We need to talk,” Mac growls.

Other students are too busy gawking at Greta to notice Mac dragging me back to the rink. His grip sinks into my arm so tight it burns.

“Get the hell off me, Mac.” I try to tug away but he picks me up instead, making me powerless. Like before, I'm no match when he throws me over his shoulder, my hair falling over my head. This time, I know better than to fight. It’s no use. He’s too strong. So I just lay over his shoulder like a rag doll.

Once through the lobby, he climbs a set of stairs before we’re in a room I’ve never seen before. It’s compact, the walls decorated with hockey memorabilia and framed photos of SBU players. Mac included.

Mac sits me in a chair beside a wooden desk with buttons, dials and mics. A window next to it overlooks the rink below.

“What the hell are you doing?” I ask as Mac runs a long black rope around me, pinning me to the chair. The tightness of his knots offset the soft fabric of the rope against my skin. “Mac, Let me go.” I’m not down with his antics today.

“I want to be sure we’re still on the same team.” His hands land on each arm of the chair, his iron eyes narrowing into mine. “Approaching me in front of my father? Have you lost it?” He moves behind the chair, tightening the rope so that it burns against my arms. “You do want my head on a platter, don’t you?”

“Have I lost it? Coming from the psychopath tying me to a fucking chair.” He kicks my legs open before something slaps against that spot. A sting runs through me like a firebolt. He tilts my head back, a finger under my chin. That’s when I notice what’s in his hand.

He grips a long leather handle intricately braided. Leather strips hang off the end. Where the hell does he get this stuff?

“Three things,” he says, twirling that whip or whatever in his hand, the strands going round and round. “I want you to repeat them. Understand?” When I don’t answer he flicks his wrist and those leather strips land against my folds. Tingles spread through me despite my shorts being on. “Understand?” He whips that thing again, this time it lands against my hardening nipples, a hiss escaping me.

Why do I respond to his weirdness in this way? Why does it set me on fire?

“Answer me,” he growls, letting that thing fly again. One against my folds. The other against my tits.

The room gets hotter with each whip. Enough to make me stammer, “Y-yes.”

“Good,” he says, keeping my chin tilted towards him. “You will never approach me when I’m with my father.”

Fuck that. “If my mural didn’t have your name on it, I wouldn’t.”

He sends that thing flying again. It slaps against my bare thighs, making me want to clench them, but he keeps them open with his knee. Despite the sting, it feels good… really good. I’m supposed to be mad at him, not enjoying this. Why am I so fucked up? Why does he fuck me up?

“That’s nothing compared to what you’ll get with your work, Butterfly. Think. Bigger. Two.” Pinching my nipple through my shirt, his lips hover over me. “I unlocked Beau’s phone and I have the video. Do you still think we’re a team?” He twists, that tool in his hand tickling my other. My thighs clench together before he moves that tool between my legs, keeping them spread. He presses the hard end against my clit, finding it through the fabric of my clothes. “I need an answer, Everett.”

“What did you do to Gray?” I fight the feeling building in me before he pulls away. Rounding in front of me, he pulls my shorts and panties down, those iron eyes on me.

And I fucking let him.

I gasp when he slides the end of that tool between my slit, the cold leather a contrast to my warmth. He brings the handle to his lips, licking my wetness off the end.

Fuck…

“I ask the questions, not you.” He kicks my legs wider and when he lets those strands slap me again, this time, they land against my clit. A sigh escapes me when he does it again, pleasure and pain combining in the best ways. Just like him. He keeps going, each slap making me lift my hips off the chair as much as I can with the rope tightening against my skin. When he stops, my heavy breaths fill the room.

“Do you still think we’re a team?” he asks. Firm. I know the answer he wants and I know what I want too.

“Yes.” The words leave me with ease, my body tingling with anticipation.

“Yes, what?” He brings his face close to mine before his fingers slide between my slit.

My mouth falls open when he uses my slickness to rub against my clit, a blaze firing through me. “Yes, Mac.”

“Hm, I’m going to need more than that.” He stops moving his fingers and he knows what he’s doing. He’s making me crave him.

And I can’t hide it. “We’re a team.”

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