Page 5 of Break The Ice

I turn my mouth to his, but he pulls back, his hands stoke over my hips, though, as if to appease me. That’s strange, what he just said. Alarm bells jingle, but they are so far away.

“Raider!” I’m filled with this heady lust, this uncontrollable fire.

He leans in close again, kissing my neck and licking up to my earlobe. He bites it.

I hear a rattle behind me, but I don’t really pay attention. I tilt my head, giving him more access as he moves me so I’m pushed up against a wall.

“Sit on my computer chair.”

I glance to the side, spotting it, and sit down obediently. I don’t even question it.

“Good, you are so good. Do you trust me?”

I nod my head, too filled with lust to think clearly. If I could just feel good for a minute, I can survive anything.

He shows me the red satin. “It’s a kink of mine. All you need to do is say stop, and I will, okay?”

I nod, wishing he would stop talking. He can do whatever he wants.

He starts tying me up, drawing the cool satin against my skin and touching me, teasing me with erotic brushes of his knuckles, fingertips, and palms.

By the time I’m completely tied up, unable to move, I’m more aroused than I’ve ever been in my life.

Raider smiles at me. “You really are exquisite, Ryann. It’s too bad I have to do this.”

My arousal vanishes in a second. “Do what?”

Raider gets a length of duct tape and straps it over my mouth.

He stands up, rolls me on the chair into the dark, and closes the door.

Raider Raines, god of all my fantasies, just lured me to his house for food and sex, only to lock me in…what is this? A fucking closet?

I’m going to kick his ass, big hockey defense player or not. No one fucking locks Ryann Smith in a closest and walks away.

Chapter two

Raider

Nausea pulls me outof my restless sleep, and I try to peel open my eyes, only to stop moving when the stabbing in my head gets more painful. When I do manage to focus, the room spins alarmingly, and I have to swallow the mouthful of saliva that fills my mouth.

How much did I drink last night? Fuck, I haven’t been this stupid in a long time.

I sit up gingerly and swing my feet off the bed. I remember being at the pub, drinking, the conversation with the coach, and then that horrible, terrible idea.

Cold horror slouches down my spine, leaving me feeling weak and panicked. I groan, pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes as if that could keep out the horrible memory that slowly starts to unfurl.

Flashes of it slam into my brain, her smile, the nuts across the table, the way she slowly rocked on my thigh.

FUCK! What the hell did I do? And why am I alone?

I stand up but stop dead when I see a piece of paper stuck to my closest. It’s my handwriting.

“Please, no,” I murmur in a rasp. I read the words out loud, mumbling them in dawning horror. “Remember to feed it.”

I get a sinking feeling, such a bad, bad, sinking feeling. The plan was to have a conversation with her, to ask her for help. She was just so much more attractive, and I remember wanting to do all the things to her, including sink my teeth into her and fuck my life up properly.

What did I do?

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