Page 75 of Lucy and Her Wicked Three

His nostrils flare, brows furrowing, and he takes his time before responding. The pressure on my chest loosens and his hand trails down from my sternum to my navel. I shouldn't be turned on right now, I remind myself, but the feel of his hand is a nice contrast to what's going on inside my head.

The four of us discovered a lot over the last few weeks. When I'm stressed or spiraling, they take control. It's not about sex or the distraction of fleeting pleasure. All the familiar anxiety metamorphoses when they push or hurt and mark my body, and in its place, where pleasure and pain intertwine, it's like we're rewiring my primal reaction to fear; with each intensified touch, my overactive brain, the tempest, is tamed, leaving my mind still, and I can rest. I'm calm. Settled. Not just for a few minutes, but fordays.

We discovered other things, too. Edging increases my anxiety. I absolutely hate it and it stresses me out. A little edging is fun, but I'm a needy bitch, and I need to feel. I can't stress about what's coming, when. I like impact play, but bondage, being tied up or held down, that's the sweet spot. Who knew having three lovers who spent their 20s exploring their sexuality would become the unexpected remedy for the struggles I had faced alone for so long.

"Fine," he finally agrees.

"Really?" I squeak in surprise.

"One of us goes with you, no exceptions."

"Deal." He doesn't nod, say anything more, or move out of my personal space. After a few breaths, he turns to his friends. "Did you by any chance bring home my black bag?"

Noah's eyes light up. "Sure did."

Mateo turns back to me. "Alright, Lucy. You can meet with Delaney, with one of us, and maybe get her to admit to all this or to back off. I've decided, if it doesn't work, I'm done with lawyers. I'm not going to the police. I'm going to ruin her, and she'll regret the fucking day she ever looked at you wrong."

"Okay, I understand. Th-thank you," I whisper.

"Great." Then he roughly grips my chin, forcing me to look up into his coal black eyes. "Now, I'm angry you didn't call me, turned your phone off and stuffed it into a drawer while you were spiraling. I think you need to learn a lesson,mi corazón. We've been entirely too easy on you."

Chapter 25

Lucy

I swallow, but my throat is dry. Mateo's hand presses against my sternum, again pushing me against the fridge. Fear spikes, and it's thrilling. He probably is mad, not just for pretend. I promised him I'd keep it on me more, he didn't like that I was walking around the city or going for runs without it. He worries about me.

I know he'd never hurt me out of anger, but the intensity of his words, the fierce expression on his face as he looks down at me, floods my panties. Heart racing, I fidget in place.

"You ready for your punishment,mi corazón?"

I swallow again. I love this game. But something tells me this will be a little different from the others we've played. I glance behind Mateo and see Noah and Silas watching on, both looking decidedly wolfish, with wide stances, Noah clenching his fists at his sides, Silas with his arms crossed, eyes bearing down on me.

I don't know what possesses me—one second, I'm getting lust-drunk on the way they all look at me, ready to let them ravish me, the next, I'm sprinting, the urge to run beating at my primal instincts. Dropping down out of Mateo's grasp, I duck past Silas, nearly colliding with Noah, but he doesn't snatch me up in time, either. Down the hall I run, skidding to a stop then rushing into my bedroom.

They prowl after me like predators, and I barely make it into the bedroom before arms wrap around my waist and I'm flung up into the air.

I don't know who takes what off. In a frenzy, I'm freed of my clothes, someone tearing at my panties, ripping them clean off, while my bra strap is torn, my shirt ripped and before I knew it, I'm flailing, fighting against the three of them.

It felt so good, so exciting to feel terrified for real, even for a split second. I bucked and kneed, but stood no chance against the three of them.

One set of arms roughly grips mine, holding them behind my back. The only words spoken are Noah, reminding me to please use my safe word, Pineapple, if I needed it. We'd practiced with the predator and prey role over the last few weeks, a little bit. Not like this. This felt urgent, salacious.

Mateo stalks around the room, calm and in control, while Silas and Noah hold me down. I wiggle and buck against them, but they're both too strong, and I barely move. Mateo disappears into the walk-in closet, returning with a large black duffel bag. He sets it on the ground and I watch as he pulls items out, things I don't recognize, apart from the last, that looks disturbingly like a riding crop.

My heart beats so fast, I swear you could see it pound at my chest. Naked, while the three of them are fully clothed, holding me down is terrifyingly exciting. I'm so wet, but no one's touching me between my legs. I don't mind yet, because I know whatever comes next is going to change me.

Mateo pulls some kind of T-shaped metal bar out of the bag, with four sets of cuffs attached to it. My mind races, trying to picture what it's for, but I'm distracted when Mateo hits me with a scorching glare.

"Very bad girl, running from us. I always thought you were such a good girl,mi corazón, but you like to be bad, don't you?"

My throat is dry, which is weird because I feel like I'm salivating, when he comes closer. His eyes never leave mine, and he looks demonic, the way his dark, nearly black eyes sear into me. He roughly pulls one of my arms from my back where Noah holds them in place, and wraps my wrist in a cuff attached to the bar. Once it's secure, he locks in the other.

Noah moves from behind my back and shoves me onto the bed. I bounce in place, but can't adjust myself because my arms are locked into the shorter end of the T bar. He pulls me forward so my ass is on the edge of the bed, then climbs behind me to hold me upright and in place.

Silas, holding my legs, helps Mateo strap each of my ankles into the long end of the metal bar, so I'm spread open wide with my knees bent. It's so demeaning, the way I'm shackled and exposed, but I don't feel degraded or ashamed. I feel cherished.

Mateo picks up the riding crop and slaps the flat end in his palm. "Do you like running from us?"

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