Chaotic (L.O.R.D.S. #7) — Chapter no 27

TWENTY-SEVEN

KASH TON

enter the bathroom and sit down on the edge of the tub. HerI eyes are on the bub bles, unable to meet mine. Reach ing over, I turn off the water. “Give it to me,” I order.

She glances up at me. “Give you what?”

I reach out my hand in front of her and mo tion with my fin gers.

“What ever was in your hand.”

“It was nothing.” She raises both of hers from the water, and I smile, shoving mine into it.

Fuck, it’s so goddamn hot, but feeling around the bottom, I find what I’m looking for and pull it out. “Then what’s this?” I ask, look‐ ing at the empty mini bottle of vodka. I saw her down it in the mir‐ ror when I opened the door.

“I wasn’t doing anything wrong.” She shrugs.

“Then why were you hiding it?” I counter.

Sure, I drink here and there, though I could go with out picking up another drink if I had to quit.

We all choose to feed our demons differently.

“I want you sober today,” I tell her.

She looks up at me through her lashes, and I can’t wait to bury my‐ self in side her.

I grab the soap and washcloth she has hang ing over the faucet.

“Turn around,” I tell her. She pulls her knees to her chest and spins to face the other way, giving me her back. I start to wash it, taking my time, letting my hands learn her body, the way it flexes as she moves, and the way she moans when I reach around to wash her neck.

My girl is desperate, and so am I.

“Fuucckkk,” she groans, dropping her head back while my tatted fingers tighten. I feel her swallow against them.

“Feel good?” I ask, smirking.

Her heavy lashes open, and she looks up at me through them while I smile down at her. I reach my free hand around and start to play with her breast as her hips rock back and forth, causing the water to slosh around.

“What do you want, Eve?” I ask, dropping my hand from her neck.

She sucks in a breath and answers, “You.”

I smile but continue washing her. I enjoyed giving her a bath late last night, getting to take care of her. She didn’t need another one this morn ing, but I wanted to touch her again to see just how worked up I can get her.

After rinsing her off, I help her out of the tub, and she spots my bag on the counter. She was too busy downing her vodka to re alize I

brought it in here with me.

“What’s in there?” she asks.

I turn her to face me. “How do you like to be fucked?”

She blinks, her wet lashes fanning her cheeks at my question. “I, uh…” She looks around, caught off guard by my question.

“Tell me, Eve. What do you like?” I want her to think she has a little control over what I’m about to do to her. I’ve controlled every other encounter we’ve had, and this will be no different, but I also want her to trust me. I’m not here to hurt her.

Licking her lips, she whispers, “I like how you play with me.”

“And when I re strain you. What do you like?”

She blushes, dropping her gaze to the floor. This woman is a fuck‐ ing hurri cane, but when it comes to the bedroom, she’s a timid little animal. She’s ashamed to enjoy sex. I’m going to show her how good it can be.

“Rope, chains, cuffs? What is it, Eve?” I urge, pushing some loose strands behind her ear.

She glances up at me, and I step into her. “This isn’t about punish‐ ment or degrading you, angel. It’s about pleasing you. So tell me what you like.”

I want her to feel safe with me, even if I have bad intentions. Be‐ cause when it comes down to it, I will do whatever it takes to make her mine. Eve thinks this is all about sex—and sex is a part of it—but I’m looking at our fu ture, planning out the rest of our lives.

“I like it when it hurts,” she says softly.

I’m well aware that my girl is a pain slut. “I like it when you beg,” I tell her, wanting her to re alize if she opens up to me, I’ll open up to her. She gives; I give.

There’s a reason she doesn’t want to go to Bill’s wedding re cep tion with me, and I’ll let her think she won by not re vealing that se cret, but I will get what I want. She will be my date.

Her green eyes meet mine, and there isn’t an ounce of doubt or fear in them when she says, “I like how good you make me feel.

When you touch me, my mind is quiet.”

She likes to follow. Be told what to do. I’m not surprised, but to hear her say that gives me pride. Especially after Adam told me she doesn’t have sex.

“Good girl,” I tell her. “For being honest.”

I turn and unzip my bag and pull out the set of hand cuffs. Her breathing accelerates in the quiet bathroom when I tell her to turn around. As she does what she’s told, I se cure her dainty wrists in‐ side the cold metal and then turn her back to face me.

“Close your eyes.” Her eye lids fall closed with out hesita tion as she takes a shaky breath. “Feel my hands, Eve?” I ask, running them over her chest and neck, slowly moving them up to cup her face.

“Yes,” she whispers.

I run them down her back and pull her into me as I place my lips to her racing pulse. “Feel my lips?” I gently kiss her soft skin up to the shell of her ear.

“Ye-ah.” She’s panting now, her hips pushing into mine, and I have to re frain from smiling when I make my way to her lips. When she parts them for me, I kiss her deeply, swallowing her moan before I pull away.

“Eyes on me now, Eve.”

They flutter open and I give her a smile. “You’re doing so good, an‐ gel.” She whimpers at my praise, her arms fighting the cuffs, and I bet she’s soaked.

“I’m go ing to put a hood over your head and gag you.”

Her eyes widen at my con fes sion. “Kash—”

“You’ll be okay,” I assure her.

There’s no telling how many sick bastards took advantage of her at Dollhouse. I want her to feel safe with me. To know that no other man on this planet will ever touch her again. No one other than me.

“I’m going to lay you down in bed, tied up. I’m going to take away your sight, your hearing, and your voice.” She swallows nervously, but her eyes grow heavy. “It’ll be my hands, my mouth, and my cock —only—that touches you. No one else, do you understand?”

She nods.

“Words, Eve.” I need her to tell me she understands. I don’t know what she’s endured, but this is part of my plan to push her. I need to show her she can trust me. That I’m who she needs.

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

I hate that she calls mesir. I have never been a fan, but I’m not going to correct her. I’m about lifting my woman up, not making her feel bad about herself.

Leaning in, I kiss her fore head. “Go lie on the bed. Arms under‐ neath you.”

She walks off, and I enter her closet. I see she’s moved the box, which means she knows I’ve opened it. I wonder why she hasn’t asked me about it. Maybe she doesn’t want to bring it up and then have me ask questions about why she has it and where the items

came from.

I’ll save that for another day.

I grab a pair of her high heels and then pick up my bag from the countertop in the bathroom before I walk into her bedroom.

She lies in bed, her se cured wrists underneath her, strug gling to get comfortable. I’m going to make it worse. She’s going to be crying desperate tears by the time I’m done playing with her.

My pretty little toy.

y p y y I slide each heel on and then re move the spreader bar that I slipped under her bed last night after she fell asleep. I’ve done a lot of shopping for my angel since I saw her at the cathedral.

Grabbing rope from my bag, I wrap it around the heel and up her ankle, then around the bar to make sure she can’t kick her shoes off.

Then I do the other one, forc ing her legs far apart. I want her to be wide open for me.

“Kashton…please,” she pants, arching her back. Like this, unable to move her legs, she’s even more uncomfortable.

I lean over her face and pull her messy bun out, letting her hair fan the pillow. Her green eyes search mine. “Just me and you,” I re mind her, and she nods. “I’m going to sit you up.” I reach underneath her shoulders and pull her to a sitting position, and she quickly adjusts her arms.

Digging my AirPods out of my pocket, I place them in my ears and go to a song on my cell. When I adjust the volume to my liking, I pull the buds out and stop the song.

I slide them into her ears and then gather her hair at the nape of her neck, se curing it in a loose ponytail. Then I slide the spandex hood over her head, and her body begins to tremble in my hands.

I didn’t want to use la tex; I figured that it would be too much too soon. This is flexible and has no zip pers, so her hair won’t get caught in it. It covers her chin and down to her neck. There’s a hole for her mouth and two small ones for her to breathe through her nose. But the mate rial itself is pretty breathable.

Grabbing the next item I want out of the bag, I rub it against her lips, and she parts them for me. “That’s my good girl,” I praise, though I’m sure my voice is muffled by the AirPods, even though I haven’t started the song yet.

I fas ten the ball gag at the back of her head and then gently press on her shoulders for her to lie down.

She whimpers, wiggling on the bed and arching her neck, trying to adjust herself.

I let my eyes take in her body. Her chest is heaving, and her skin al ready has a sheen to it. I reach over and turn on the pedestal fan, making sure to help cool her down. I was being honest when I told

her this is about pleas ing her. I re move the lip gloss that I took from her bath room, run my fin gers through it and then rub it over her pouty lips. It said it has a tingling effect.

I want her confused, over whelmed with need. Taking away certain senses will heighten others.

Picking up the rubber bands I brought, I open my knife and slice through two of them, cutting them in half. Then I slide one under her left thigh, bringing it around her leg and tying it off.

She whimpers, her leg now shaking as the rubber band pulls tightly on her skin. I re peat it with her other thigh before I trail my fin ger‐ tips up her trembling leg, making my way to her pussy. My fin gers brush her soaked cunt, and I smile. She’s ready.

Picking up my cell, I go to the song I want her to lis ten to, and

then I get started.

EVERETT My lips are burning, and I have the urge to lick them, but I can’t because of the gag that fills my mouth. The silence is deafening while I lie here squirming, un able to see, talk, or hear. Hell, I can barely move. I concentrate on getting my breathing under control so I don’t panic. The sad part is that I do trust him.

He’s different. Yeah, but for how long? He’ll eventu ally show his true colors. Some are just better at hiding it than others.

“Angel” by Camylio starts playing in my ears, and I try to close my legs, fighting against the re straints.

Drool has gathered at the back of my throat, and I swallow it, wish‐ ing I could at least beg him to fuck me.

I jump when he touches my stomach, slowly running down over my hips and between my wide-open legs. I suck in a ragged breath when his fingers begin to play with my pussy. I’m dripping for him.

My arms ache and my jaw already hurts from the gag, but I can’t help but lift my hips, try ing to move my body closer to his touch.

Needing more. Why is he being slow? He wasn’t the other times. He was rough and needy. That’s what I want now.

My legs…something is wrapped around my thighs. It hurts. Pinch‐ ing me? My hands itch to touch it. To see what it is.

The song begins to play again, and I re alize it’s on re peat. Is it a sign? Is he trying to tell me something?

I feel his lips on my neck, and I arch it to give him better access, but they’re gone too soon. Frustration has my body trembling.

I try to roll my ankles, but he’s got them strapped in a set of heels.

He likes when I wear them for him.

A finger slides into me, and my breath catches when he pushes in a second at an ago nizingly slow rate. When a third enters, I’m beg ging through the gag, mumbling nonsense. My legs flex against the un‐ comfortable thing wrapped around my thighs.

I gasp when I feel his teeth bite my nip ple, the sting making my pussy clench, but I re alize it’s not his teeth when the other one stings as well. The cold metal falls to my chest when he links the nip ple clamps to gether.

A cry is ripped from my gagged lips when he slaps my pussy, and I arch my back, twisting and turn ing in the re straint when he hits it again.

My breath gets stuck in my lungs when he thrusts his fin gers into me once again. I want to cry; I need him so badly. The rope pulls on my skin as I fight to close my legs, and my arms have gone numb. If my eyes were open, I’m pretty sure they’d roll back into my head when I feel the vibration on my clit.

A mumbled yelp comes from my burning lips when something pinches my thigh. I gasp for breath when I feel it on the other. A lasting burn lingers, and I wait for it to come again.

I buck my hips, my clit riding the vibration at the same time my legs are stung once more.

There is no warning. Just an orgasm that takes over as my entire body stiffens, and flashes of light blind my covered eyes.

The vibration stops and I try and catch my breath. His hand wraps around my throat, hold ing my neck down to the bed, and spit flies from the corners of the gag, landing on the mask that covers my face.

I don’t care how pathetic I look right now. I’m his desperate angel, beg ging for a taste of hell. His hand leaves my neck, and then he’s grabbing the chain off my chest, pulling on my nipples.

A mumbling sob is all I can give when I arch my back to try and ease the pres sure. The vibrating re turns between my tied legs and once again, I can’t hold back the orgasm that takes my breath away.

I wait for it to stop so I can suck in a ragged breath, but it doesn’t.

In stead, it slips inside me, and I shake uncontrollably. My thighs tighten and my pussy clenches on the toy.

I can’t…not again…