Page 33 of No Words
“Look at me,” I order, waiting until she turns her blindfolded face toward my voice. “Even without seeing, I want you looking at me when you tell me.”
Her resistance is crumbling, breath coming in quick gasps. “You,” she finally whispers. “I belong to you.”
“Again. Louder.”
“You,” she gasps. “I am yours.”
I lean in close, my lips at her ear, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Do you know what happens to things that belong to me, Molly?” My hand closes around her throat, applying just enough pressure to restrict her airflow, but not enough to cut it off. A reminder of her vulnerability, of my control. “I protect what’s mine. I kill for what’s mine.”
Her pulse races beneath my palm, her body reacting to the threat and promise in equal measure.
“If they touch you—” My grip tightens fractionally, “—if they hurt you, I will tear them apart. And I’ll make you watch.” I press my lips to hers; she responds fiercely. I allow her that small grace before pulling away again. “So you never forget the price of belonging to me.”
“Again,” I command, returning to my earlier demand.
“I belong to you, Cole.”
I increase the pressure around her throat, and the relentless pace of my cock. “And if they catch you? If they try to make you talk?”
“I’ll...” She’s struggling to form words now. “I’ll think only of you. Only answer to you.”
“Good girl.” I reward her with exactly what she needs, watching as she comes beneath my hands, her body arching, straining against the restraints. In her surrender, I see something I’ve been searching for since I first laid eyes on her: complete trust, complete submission, despite knowing exactly what kind of man I am. Perhaps because of it.
I don’t stop there. I push until she’s begging, until her resistance crumbles and all that’s left is need. Until she’s come so many times she’s lost count, her body answers to my touch like an instrument I’ve mastered. Until she’s so hoarse from crying out my name, her voice breaks on each syllable. Until the line between pleasure and pain blurs into meaninglessness, and she accepts both equally from my hands. Until I’m certain that she’s mine in every way that matters, body, mind, and something deeper that neither of us is ready to name.
Only then do I untie her, remove the blindfold, gather her trembling body against mine.
“Four hours,” I murmur into her hair, checking my watch. “You lasted four hours of intensive training without using your safe word once.”
She stirs against my chest. “Is that good?”
“It’s exceptional. Most people break in the first hour.” I stroke her hair gently. “But Borsellini’s team will have drugs, will use methods I won’t. The actual test will be different.”
“But this helps?”
“This helps,” I confirm. “You know now that you can endure more than you thought possible. When they try to break you, you’ll have something to hold on to.”
She nestles against my chest, totally spent. “Was any of that actually about interrogation resistance?”
I smile against her temple and press a gentle kiss. “About thirty percent.”
She laughs softly, then grows serious. “What happens when they come?”
“We have a choice,” I say, pulling her closer. “We can run, try to stay ahead of them. Or we can make a stand here.”
“And if we run?”
“They’ll keep hunting. Forever.” I meet her eyes. “If we make a stand and win, this ends.”
She’s quiet for a moment, processing. “And the people in the network?”
“Safe if you can keep their locations secret. That’s why tonight mattered. You proved you can protect them.”
Her hand finds mine in the darkness. “Then we make a stand.”
I tighten my arm around her. “Then we fight.”
She drifts off to sleep against me, exhausted from our “training session.” I hold her, watching shadows lengthen across the floor as evening approaches. By the end of tomorrow, blood will be shed. Lives will end. But it won’t be ours.
