Page 16 of Touchdowns and Tinsel

“This is going to be fucking epic,” Aiden whispers, his eyes alight with thrill.

“Just stay focused,” I remind them, my voice low. “The fun starts when we get her to the cabin. Remember, she has no idea it’s us. We stick to the plan.”

As I put the car in gear and pull away from the parking lot, I can’t shake the sense of tension in the air. We’re crossing lines—unforgettable lines. Noelle has unknowingly stepped into ourworld—a world where fantasies collide with desires and where I, playing the role of the enigmatic Q, hold the reins.

We drive in silence, the dark, snowy road illuminated only by the beams of my headlights. My heart thrums at the thought of Noelle waking up—bound and helpless—yet craving what’s to come. I can almost see her expression, a mix of confusion and intrigue, as she tries to piece together the fragmented reality she finds herself in.

After dropping her car off at the house and parking in the garage, Hudson gets back in the car, and we take off, trying to drive fast but careful in the relentless snow that continues to bury the city. Minutes pass, then hours, and soon the rustic cabin comes into view, nestled among the tall pines and cloaked in a blanket of snow. This is the perfect place for our little escapade, far away from prying eyes. I back the car into the garage, and we quickly hop out to assist each other with the trunk.

“On three,” I say, feeling the thrill pulse through me as we gently lift Noelle out, careful not to jostle her too much.

We carry her inside, the cabin enveloping us in warmth against the biting cold outside. Once we’re inside, I glance around at the cozy ambience—the low-hanging lights casting a warm glow, the plush couches, the fireplace waiting to be lit.

“Let’s get her on the couch,” I suggest, and we lay her down, adjusting her position so she’s comfortable yet vulnerable.

Aiden pulls out some rope from his bag, and I can sense the anticipation in the air. Each of us seems to be craving this moment—the moment when Noelle becomes ours entirely.

“Should we wake her up first?” Ryder asks, exchanging glances with the rest of us.

“No,” I respond firmly, feeling a rush of control surge through me. “Let her sleep for now. We’ll handle that later.”

They nod, and for a moment, we stand around her, the reality of our plan settling deeper into our consciousness. As we light the fireplace, the flames flicker and dance, casting shadows across her face. I kneel beside her, careful to study her features as they soften in the warm light. Even in this state, she’s beautiful—every line and contour heightened by the flickering glow.

“You’re going to fucking love this, Noelle,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper, my heart racing as I imagine how she’ll respond when she awakens.

With the room now warm and inviting, I feel the giddy anticipation building inside me. The power dynamic shifts endlessly in my mind—she’s secured in this moment, but soon, the roles will be inverted.

Aiden leans over, ready with the rope, but just as he reaches for her wrists, I hold out my hand to stop him. “Let’s make this special. We need to make her feel like she’s in a dream. These ropes... it’s all part of her fantasy, but we need to take our time.”

The guys exchange glances of excitement and confusion, but I can see in their eyes they trust me. As the fire crackles, illuminating the room, I can almost hear the heartbeat of this night—the way it’s alive with secrets, desires, and the promise of indulgence. It sends shivers through me.

With time, the restlessness seems to settle as we prepare, waiting for Noelle to awaken. I can only imagine how she’ll react to the surreal reality of her captors and the games we have in store. As the minutes tick away, I finally give in to the thrill coursing through my veins and pull out my phone once again.

I snap a few pictures of her before hitting record on the video screen, leaning in to whisper into her ear, “Welcome home, Noelle. It’s time to play.”

seven

Noelle

What the fuck happened? Where am I?

My mind is a storm of questions, and pain radiates through my skull, sending tremors down my spine. It feels as though I’ve been hit by a fucking truck. My head feels like a pressure cooker ready to explode, and my thoughts swirl in a chaotic haze. The only memory I can cling to is preparing for Cole's football game.

When I finally manage to open my eyes, I’m met with an inky darkness that fuels my panic. My heart pounds furiously in my chest. As I move my hands, I quickly realize they’re shackled with tight restraints, forcing them together in front of me. A bitter, unfamiliar taste coats my parched mouth, exacerbated by what I can only assume is a ball gag lodged against my tongue, its strap chafing against my cheeks.

I attempt to shift my feet, but my ankles are bound too, ruining any chance of movement or escape from this nightmare. A chill sweeps over my skin, a grim reminder that the cozy outfit I was wearing earlier has vanished, leaving me vulnerable andexposed. Each passing second intensifies the rising tide of panic within me.

Although my vision remains obscured, an oppressive, dark presence lingers close by, sending shivers coursing through my body. I don't dare struggle against my bindings, fearing my unknown captor’s reaction to my desperate attempts to flee. Instead, I lay still, shivering, piecing together the fragmented puzzle of how I ended up here in this harrowing situation—wherever "here" is.

I freeze at the faint sounds of shuffling and hushed whispers echoing in the distance, the thudding of my racing heart drowning out all else. Suddenly, warm fingers brush against my temples, sliding beneath the straps of the blindfold that hinders my sight. I let out a whimper as a rush of cool air sweeps across my stomach, inching lower until it teases my most sensitive spot, leaving my legs trembling in response.

I brace myself as the blindfold is finally pulled away. The sudden light blinds me, and as my vision adjusts, I catch sight of a familiar green mask, followed by three more identical masks emerging from the shadows. Am I losing my mind, or are there truly four masked figures invading my space?

A heavy sluggishness envelops me, as if I’ve been drugged, and I fight to control my growing anxiety, desperately trying not to hyperventilate. Struggling for clarity, I take note of the distinct differences in their attire and the bleak reality settles in: therearefour of them.

“Welcome back, sleepyhead,” the man who removed my blindfold says, his fingers smoothing my hair as he tucks stray strands behind my ear. Before I can process anything further, he removes the ball gag, allowing me a breath of normalcy. “Scream, and I’ll put it back,” he warns, his tone somewhat familiar, but I can’t quite place it under the haze clouding my mind.

I nod, my dry lips tingling as I attempt to swallow and moisten my mouth while ignoring the way the other three sets of eyes hungrily scrutinize my exposed body.

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