Page 35 of Web of Lies
"You drugged me?" I snap, jerking against the ropes again. "Are you insane?"
"Maybe," he says. "Maybe I've lost it for good. Thanks to you."
My eyes snap to the figure stepping into the mirror's reflection. He's shirtless, and the large skull tattoo on his back stares back at me with a mocking grin. His jeans have been replaced with gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips. The expression on his face is foreign to me, a mixture of rage yet with that familiar, teasing, cocky glint in his eyes.
"Thanks to me? What the hell does that even mean?" I glare at him, searching his face for answers. "Answer me, you idiot." I snap, twist against the ropes, my skin burning as the fibers dig deeper into my flesh.
"There's that temper I love," he says, as he steps between my legs and runs his rough fingers over my inner thighs. His touch sends a shiver down my spine. My breath catches in my throat, and my body responds before my mind can catch up. Heat pools between my legs, and my clit throbs with arousal.
"Kyle, please." The words slip from my lips in a pleading whisper.
"I saw you on your little date with Hunt tonight. All dolled up and looking like his obedient slut." Kyle strikes my pussy withhis flat palm, delivering a stinging slap. My eyes snap open, and a shocked moan tears from my throat.
"It wasn't a date." I grit my teeth.
Kyle raises an eyebrow, cocking his head. "Sure," he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You were just glued to his arm like a brand-new accessory he couldn't wait to show off."
"It was a job," I blurt out, words tumbling too fast. "I hacked something, that's it. That's all it was. I left right after." The words feel flimsy, desperate, but they're the truth. I don't like Mr. Hunt like that.
"Did you let him fuck you?" He steps closer, looming over me, like a predator cornering its prey.
My breath catches, eyes flying wide. "No." The word rips out of me, half panic, half plea.
"But you want him to fuck you," he says, sharp voice, like a needle slipping under my skin.
A scream tears from my throat when his flat hand strikes my exposed pussy once again. My muscles spasm as arousal pulses through my core. The wet sound of the impact echoes through the bedroom.
"No," I shoot back.
"Liar," Kyle growls, his voice dropping to a low rumble as he leans over me, his lips grazing my ear. One of his hands slips between us, and two of his fingers land flat against my clit, applying pressure. "You want him to bend you over, don't you? You want him to fuck you."
My eyes roll back into my skull, and my head falls limp as Kyle rolls my swollen clit between his fingers. A soft whimper slips from my lips at the touch of his lips against my throat, peppering feather-light kisses against my skin. "Answer me, Baby," he says, thrusting his fingers inside me. "Do you want Hunt's cock inside you?" My body eagerly welcomes the intrusion.
Lost in the haze, my mind is a foggy mess of confusion and arousal. Images flicker and twist before my inner eye—a hazy blur of the man Kyle accuses me of lusting after, his face bleeding into the only one that matters, the only man I want—Kyle. I want him. I want his hands on me. The words roll off my tongue before I can think of their meaning; my mind is occupied only by Kyle.
"Yes," I breathe out, my pussy clenching around his fingers like it's sucking him deeper.
"I knew it." Kyle hisses, and my eyes snap open. The figure looming over me disappears, and his fingers slip out of my aching pussy. My jaw drops, ready to protest, but the sudden warm sensation of his spit hitting my pussy cuts off my words. His thumb follows, smearing his saliva across my folds. "I'm going to ruin you," he says. Through the mirror above us, I spot the devilish grin on his face. "You might let Hunt fuck you, but from now on, every time he sees you naked, he'll be reminded that I've used your hole too."
"Kyle, what—"
"Oh, Freckles," he says, interrupting me and flattening his palm over my pussy. "I'm going to make sure no man ever looks at you without knowing I was here."
"What?" My eyes widen in horror as I look at him.
Without saying another word, he takes a step back, reaches for the ropes, and pulls at the ones that keep me hanging from the ceiling. Then, he turns and walks out of view. My eyes dart across the room, reflecting in the mirror as I search for him. Just a split second later, he reappears, kicking a small rolling chair and pushing a metal cart with a tattoo gun, colors, solution, and wipes neatly arranged on it.
"Kyle." I try to get his attention, but he doesn't acknowledge me. Instead, he sits down on the chair between my legs, slips on a pair of black nitrile gloves, and examines the skin on my innerthigh. Every nerve in my body tightens, and a shiver runs down my spine. He grabs a disinfectant wipe and presses it against my skin, wiping the area dangerously close to my pussy. My breath catches in my throat as he reaches for the tattoo machine and flips the switch. The familiar buzz of the needle floods the room as I stare at him, dipping the needle into the small ink cap to load the color.
"It's going to be quick," Kyle says. "But if you don’t want anything to happen, say our safe word, and I'll stop."
The word is on the tip of my tongue, but my mouth remains sealed.
When I don’t respond, Kyle takes it as his answer, and the needle touches the soft skin of my inner thigh, just inches from my most sensitive spot. I throw my head back against the ropes, supporting it, and bite my lower lip. My core muscles tense instinctively as the needle pierces my skin. It's a specific kind of pain—hot and prickling—not overwhelming, but familiar and impossible to ignore. A bolt of electricity shoots through my entire body, lighting up every muscle.
Instead of pulling away, I lean into it. The piercing of the needle becomes almost rhythmic, and my heartbeat mirrors the vibrating buzz. A quiet moan slips from my throat as the pain intensifies for a moment and then eases into something that resembles pleasure. A heated ache pools in my lower abdomen, and a flush of arousal seeps out of me in waves.
"Such a dirty little thing," Kyle murmurs, and I snap my eyes open to find him wiping the skin of my inner thigh with a paper towel, just inches from where I need him the most. "You're dripping just from a little pain and ink. I bet I could make you come just like that."
