Page 4 of Haunted By the Highwayman
“Fine, fine.” Epic lie. I’m clenching my thighs together as hard as I can, desperate to keep my errant dick under control.
“So? Do you accept the dare, or do you forfeit?” Rick says.
“What happens if I forfeit?”
He shrugs. “I get to call you a loser forever.”
Always one for the small print, I read the card more closely. “It says here I have to wear the collar for forty-eight hours, and follow all your orders during that time.”
What the hell kind of game is this? It’s crazy, ridiculous. Doing what Rick says for forty-eight hours? Who knows what he’ll ask of me. It’s a prankster’s dream. So why is my body so eager to submit to him? My cock presses hard against my pants. My face feels like it’s flaming. I’m expecting Rick to make a joke about my obvious arousal any time. But he’s quiet. Unlike himself. He shifts in his seat. And then I figure out what’s wrong. Is he struggling to control himself as much as I am?
Does helikethe idea of me in a collar?
“Pretty harsh rules,” he says, fake offhand. His voice is low and husky. Not his usual lighthearted tone. He runs a hand over his dark stubble, fingers trembling a little.
“Where… where would we even get a collar?” I try to scoff.
He smiles. A smile with a touch of the predator in it. “Looking for an excuse to get out of it?”
“I’m not looking for an excuse! I just….”
We stare at each other across the table. The room goes very quiet. Even the TV from next door has quieted down.
“There’s an adult store down the street,” Rick says. “It opens late.”
Chapter 3
We’re both laughing nervously as we come back into the flat, Rick clutching the “discreet” paper bag in his hand. Buying the collar wasn’t as embarrassing as I expected. The woman behind the counter barely glanced at us; we might as well have been buying a loaf of bread. But this is where it’s going to get weird. Now that it’s just me and Rick.
He closes the door behind us, carefully puts on the chain, turns to face me. He reaches into the bag and reveals a thin, delicate pink collar studded with diamantes. A tiny heart charm hangs from the center. The style was his choice. I was expecting him to go for something joky. Black, studded, cliché, something to make it obvious that this is a prank. I didn’t expect him to choose something so pretty. Romantic. He unbuckles it. Looks at me. We’re both breathing shallowly. The air feels too hot all of a sudden. We’re suspended halfway between a joke and something else. Both of us can feel it. Neither of us has acknowledged it. I don’t even knowhowto acknowledge it. We’re not supposed to be doing this. I’m his best friend’s little brother. When I moved here to take a postgraduate place atNewcastle University, my family was thrilled at the idea that I’d be living with Rick. Someone they know well and trust looking out for me. And now he’s about to put me in a collar and control my every move for the next forty-eight hours.
And I want it.
Ricks looks at me, the collar between his thumb and forefinger. The hairs on my forearms stand on end. My mind rifles quickly through all the things he could make me do once I’m in that collar. My mouth gets very dry. My dick starts to get very interested and I yell at it to stand down. Silently, of course—I’m not totally crazy.
“Last chance to back out,” Rick says.
“Do I need to? Are you going to make me do anything really bad?”
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Rick says. Once again, his dimple mocks me. “Or you could just give up right now. Admit you don’t have what it takes.”
Unthinkable. No way will I be the first to surrender. He might be bigger and blessed with god-like muscles, but I’m just as strong-willed as him. I’ll get through the next forty-eight hours somehow, no matter how humiliating. No matter how arousing. And when we play the game again and the next card falls, it’ll be my turn to torment him.
“I can handle it,” I say.
A full smile claims his face. It’s like sun breaking the clouds. “Okay then. Here goes.”
He unlocks the buckle. The little heart charm dangles, sparkling and pretty. I can’t take my eyes off it, like I’m being hypnotized. I’m so turned on it hurts, so desperate not to show Rick, and ever so slightly humiliated already. It’s a confusing cocktail of emotions that I can only imagine one man in the world being able to inspire. Rick.
I close my eyes and wait.
Rick’s fingers are gentle, brushing my neck softly as he fastens the leather around my neck. He buckles it snugly against my skin. I swallow, eyes shut tight, feeling the collar move against my Adam’s apple. He actually did it. And I let him.
“How does it feel?” he murmurs.
“It feels like a fucking collar,” I snap, opening my eyes fast.
That crooked grin again, the dimple. “So you’ve done this before?”
