The pact, p.38
The Pact, page 38
I need her curious eyes off of me. “Come here.”
Thea obeys. I kneel and push her thighs apart. With my shirt in one hand, I wipe up my come that’s leaked a path down her legs. When she’s mostly clean, we head back to the clearing to find her shorts.
The hike back down the mountain is quiet. I think we’re both in our heads, trying to sort through some things. What I’m feeling for her scares me. The things I do to Thea probably scare her. I’m not sure if that mutual fear will bring us closer together or drive us apart.
Another thing that sits heavily on my mind is that I’m the last stop before she gets to Damian. I’ve seen the darkness brewing in my brother’s eyes. I know the kinds of things he wants to do to her. After today, I think she can handle it. But what if she can’t? What if he’s too much for her and she leaves?
I can’t bear it. I can’t lose her. Not when I just got her.
42
THEA
It’s the first time I’ve made it down to the little dock on the river behind the house. The sun is setting and a cool breeze makes it chillier than I expect. I shiver, wishing I’d brought a jacket. The steep stairs leading down to the water stop me from heading up to grab one.
Glancing behind me, the wall of windows in the living room is illuminated with a soft, warm glow. But I see no one from here. Something catches my eye and I turn. Damian is making his way down the steps.
“It’s nice out here,” I call out, then face the water again. I still haven’t received those punishments that Damian promised. It puts me on edge whenever I’m around him.
He stands next to me, so close that our shoulders brush. “It is. It’s been a while since I’ve come down here. Things have been hectic.” I give him a sidelong glance, not wanting to pry, only hoping he’ll volunteer some information.
He doesn’t.
Damian points a finger to the left. “If you follow the river a mile or so down that way, you’d find the creek where we played growing up. Wolf Creek.” The realization dawns on me. The names of their businesses. The nickname for the four of them. Wesley’s tattoo. Their shared last name, although spelled differently. “We had some great times there, some hard times too. But it was the foundation for all of this,” he reveals as his head twists to look back at the house.
“Wolfe Creek Four.” I say it, hoping that he’ll tell me more, knowing that I’ve heard the gossip.
He lets out a rough laugh and his eyes meet mine. “Oh yes, we’re infamous around these parts.” Damian rolls his blue eyes. “People like to create scandal where there’s none.”
“So the four of you did nothing worth being remembered for?” I find it hard to believe. I get the feeling they weren’t exactly innocent.
He raises a brow. “Worth being remembered for and worth gossiping about at church on Sunday are two very different things.”
“So you never got into any trouble?” I ask, curious to know more about their past.
I see a smile tug at his lips as he gazes out over the water. “I never said that.” His eyes find mine and I feel like he’s debating on whether to elaborate. “We got into mischief, that’s what people talk about. Trouble? Well, we’re pretty good at not getting caught. The mischief is often the sleight of hand for what we’re really trying to get away with.”
I can tell by the weight of his gaze on me he’s inspecting me for shock…fear…or something else. I give him nothing but a blank expression. Inside is another story.
What kind of trouble had they gotten away with? I want to believe it was adolescent antics, maybe a little more, yet something in my gut tells me it might be more sinister than that. I realize I don’t know very much about any of them. Not even Sutton, if I think about it.
“Better be careful,” I tease. “One day, you might get punished for your wrongdoings.” I see his smirk falter out of the corner of my eye. I wonder if that’s something that burdens him.
Suddenly, Damian presses into my back, his arms on either side of mine on the wood of the dock railing. I’m caged in. My heart thuds in my chest and I try to steady my breathing. What is it about this man that excites and scares me at the same time? And why do I feel myself needing to see how far I can push him?
The warmth of his arms brushes mine. Even beneath the ink covering his skin, his veins bulge as he grips the railing tightly. Flashes of those hands gripping my neck, my thighs, my tits have me clenching my legs together.
Damian must notice. Leaning down, grazing his lips over my ear, he murmurs in a velvety smooth voice, “If I were you, I wouldn’t be concerned about anyone’s punishment but my own.”
I can’t help the slight whimper that escapes.
“Does the thought of punishment excite you, princess?” Red rushes to my cheeks and I look down at my feet. “It does, doesn’t it? You’re squirming and blushing at the thought.” Damian coaxes as he pushes into my back more. His closeness makes it hard to breathe. “Is it the act itself or me doing it to you that has you all worked up?”
This is exactly what I wanted, Damian’s attention—the pampering and the punishment, as he calls it. So why do I want to turn and run back to the house now that I have it?
His hand comes up and grips my throat. “Answer me.” That silky voice is now rough and commanding.
Fuck. “You,” I pant out. Damian’s fingers tighten on my neck and his hips push into me—he’s hard. I want to reach behind me and run my hand over his cock. However, he likes being in control, so I clasp them in front of me instead.
The moments feel longer than they are, but Damian eventually moves his hand from my neck and slides it up the back of my head. The feel of his fingers over my scalp sends a shiver through me. It’s interrupted when he fists my hair and yanks my head backwards. I gasp, entirely surprised by the harshness. “Is this what you want, princess?” He growls into my cheek.
I sift through my feelings—fear, pain, excitement, desire. Finally, I nod, the slight motion making my head sting.
His other hand travels up my thigh, over my ass, and onto my back. The gentleness of his caress contrasts against his firm grip on my hair. It’s only momentary because he shoves his palm into my spine, forcing my body to bend forward.
The railing pushes into my stomach and I lose my breath.
“What about this?” He asks. His voice laced with strain as if he’s holding back. Damian is letting me give him consent each step of the way, I realize. There may be much more he wants to do, however, he wants to make sure I’m comfortable—no, he’s making sure I want this.
I do. It’s not something I’d ever thought about wanting, but my body needs more and the wetness dampening me is a clear sign. Pushing my ass into his cock, I simply utter, “Mhm.”
“Fuck, Thea.” He sounds almost surprised. I wonder if he hasn’t met many women who would let him do this to them. Living in a small town, it’s likely he hasn’t.
Damian folds his body over mine and whispers, “It’s time for your punishment. For calling me good boy and for not listening when I told you to stay. Are you ready?”
I’m not sure if I am. I don’t know what it’ll be. This already feels intense. But I’m not a quitter—at least not yet.
“Yes, I’m ready.” I brace myself, although not even the expectation of it prepares me as the flat of Damian’s palm smacks my ass—hard. I let out a yelp. When the stinging subsides, I feel the familiar throbbing between my legs.
I try to straighten, thinking it’s over. Damian’s grip on my hair tightens as pushes my face back down. Tilting my head, I can just barely see him and the hand that he’s raising.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
My ass cheek is throbbing and sore by the time he’s done. My eyes are watering, but I don’t let myself cry. I should feel humiliated or furious or sad. I don’t. I feel turned on mostly, but beyond that I sense satisfaction and even lightness as if I’ve let go of something that was weighing me down.
Damian’s arms circle under mine from behind and he tenderly straightens me, turning me to face him. His eyes carry worry, like maybe he’s gone too far or thinks I regret saying yes. I didn’t tell him to stop, however, that didn’t mean that I liked it or didn’t fear him now. He needs me to tell him I’m okay, that we’re okay.
My hand runs over the rough stubble of his jaw and I give him a soft smile. It contradicts with the wetness brimming my eyes. “I’m good, Damian. I promise.” His shoulders slump, I hadn’t noticed how tense he was.
He pulls me in close and the unexpected intimacy surprises me. We’ve never touched like this before. Our interactions have always been wrung with sarcasm, frustration, lust, but never vulnerability, not like this.
“Thank you for trusting me,” he exhales, nuzzling into my hair. I wrap my arms around his neck, although this level of affection from Damian is still throwing me for a loop. He surprises me one last time.
His lips brush over my jaw, the softness of his touch sending little tingles through me, until he reaches my mouth and kisses me. I never believed the whole weak in the knees thing—that is, until this moment.
They simply start to give out on me. I melt right into Damian’s arms.
I expect him to slip his tongue in, to fist my hair again, or to press his cock into me, but he doesn’t. Damian just kisses me in the chastest of ways.
“Let’s get you back to the house. Ice will help with the pain,” he says, lightly rubbing the area he spanked. “You were such a good girl for me.”
My heart soars at the praise. I bite my lip and glance down. I think I understand the conversation I eavesdropped on a month ago. Damian wanted the others to pursue me first because he’s the most intense in what he wants.
The others pulled me in, exploring my willingness to match what each of them desires. Slowly testing my limits to see if I could handle Damian. Looks like I passed.
Damian’s standing in front of me, his fingers lingering on the button of my jeans. “I’m going to take these off, okay?” He’s seen me in a bikini, so there’s no need for modesty, but I appreciate this sweet side of him as much as his rougher side. I nod.
He pops the button, then drags down the zipper. Damian wets his lips and I notice his breathing picking up. I’m unprepared as he drops to the floor, his hands slipping into the band of my pants as he pulls them down. His eyes flick up to mine and something about looking down at him on his knees like this feels incredibly intimate. My heart speeds up and all I want to do is kiss him—wildly this time.
Damian removes my pants, one leg at a time until I’m only in my shirt and black thong. Turning me around, he runs his hands up the back of my thighs. My skin breaks out in goosebumps.
Peeking over my shoulder, I see eyes of admiration as his fingers brush over the red skin on my ass. “Beautiful,” he whispers. Then I feel him touch the spot on my thigh that I’ve memorized well. Wesley’s bite mark. “Wes got you good,” he chuckles. I sense pride in those words.
A rush of desire hits my core as flashes of our romp in the woods hit me.
“Lie down on your stomach,” Damian commands. I do as he says, stretching out over my bed.
He places the ice pack, wrapped in a damp towel, on me—the cold is shocking, yet feels good after a few seconds. I hear his footsteps as they shuffle around the room, then he’s standing in front of me.
Bending down, he places a straw in front of my mouth. “Drink.” I don’t argue, pulling in large gulps of water.
He sets the glass down on the nightstand and joins me on the bed. I’m still puzzled by all of this. Damian’s never been this…tender. “Why are you acting like this? You don’t have to stay here with me.” I don’t mean for it to come out harshly, but it does. I soften my face so that he understands that I’m confused is all.
His fist props his head up, while the other hand skates from my shoulder to my wrist. Damian’s brows pull tight. “What do you mean? You were punished. Now I need to care for you.”
“Why? Why do you need to?” I’ve never heard of such a thing. Punishment is followed by a cold shoulder, tension, anger, silence, guilt. Is he feeling guilty? “I’m not upset that you punished me, Damian.”
A soft smile tugs at his mouth. “I know you’re not. Just because I punished you doesn’t mean I don’t…” he pauses, rethinking his words. “You still need aftercare.” He must see my confusion. “Aftercare is a way to take care of each other after a punishment or sex. You might need certain things after what I did. Your emotions may be all over the place, you may feel confused, you might be in some pain, or feel physically drained.” He brushes a stray hair from my face. “It’s my job to make you feel reassured, feed you, give you water, ease your pain, talk, cuddle, or even give you space. Whatever you need to feel safe and connected with me afterwards. Is there anything you can think of that you want right now?”
I’m processing his words. I feel fine after my punishment. I’m more shocked than anything by his actions now—I expected him to walk away like it was nothing. Lying here, I try to work through my feelings.
My parents never physically punished me. Theirs came in looks of disappointment, being ignored, chastised and criticized, leaving me feeling unbearably low after. However, that was the aftermath. At the time, I was just happy that they were paying attention to me, even if it was negative. The low came when they walked away.
I feel the first prickle of a tear. I hate that I can’t stop it as it rolls down my cheek. Fundamentally, I understood the consequences of my actions, now and when I was younger, but it’s only here I’m realizing I needed affection afterwards. I needed to know I wasn’t a bad person, that I hadn’t ruined anything, and was still worthy of love.
Damian’s finger comes up and brushes the tear away. “I think I need you to reassure me.” I feel silly even saying it. “And maybe you could hold me for a little while.”
He smiles, satisfied with my requests. His arm drapes over my back and he scoots in closer. “Look at me, princess.” I obey. “You did so good for me. I’m proud of you. You’re very special to me. You’re perfect.” Damian whispers these things to me repeatedly. I realize I feel entirely safe with him, in a way that I’ve never felt safe with anyone before.
“Do you need aftercare, too?” I question, unsure if it goes both ways.
Damian stills. “No ones ever asked me that before.” I meet his gaze, yet his eyes shift away, like he doesn’t want me to see what he’s feeling. “I like this. The closeness. And I want to know if you enjoyed what we did or if there’s anything you’d want me to do differently.”
I turn on my side, letting the ice pack fall away. Tucking myself against him as closely as I can, I give Damian what he needs. “I enjoyed it very much. I didn’t realize I’d like something like that,” I confess, hiding the heat rushing to my cheeks as I bury my face in his chest. He holds me tightly, like he may never let go. “Thank you for letting me give you permission. It made me feel I could trust you if I wanted to stop.”
He lets out a breath of relief and he kisses the top of my head. “Thank you, princess.”
I’m not sure how long we’re lying there in silence enjoying the matched rhythm of our breathing, but Damian eventually speaks and it’s not what I expect.
“It’s not a lot, however, I have some information on Gavin.” My head pops up at the mention of my ex’s name.
“And?” I ask impatiently.
“I had a friend near Atlanta check out his house—”
I interrupt. “You found his address?” He levels his gaze at me and gives me a look that says finding the address is child’s play. “You could’ve asked me,” I mumble, but considering I gave him a hard time initially when he asked for Gavin’s last name, I can understand why he didn’t.
“He drove by a few days in a row at different times. His car is always there. I didn’t find any other vehicles aside from the Mercedes registered in his name. Does he have another one he uses?”
I shake my head. How did he find out what car is registered to Gavin?
“So he’s either back home and done with the threats or…he’s making sporadic trips up here to unnerve you.” Damian runs a hand through his auburn hair. He looks exhausted. Guilt hits me. This isn’t his burden to take on. While I hate keeping the texts from Gavin and the possibility of him coming into their home a secret, I’m comforted in knowing that I’m sparing Damian a little of the worry. I can handle some of this on my own. “I had my buddy put a tracker on his car so that we can see when he leaves. In the meantime, I…” He seems nervous. “I don’t want you going anywhere alone.”
Considering I disobeyed him the last time he told me not to leave, I understand why he’s apprehensive. Although things have changed. Something between us has shifted. I know without a doubt that he will protect me, possibly at all costs. Him putting the tracker on my ex’s car is proof of that. It should scare me, at least a little, that he can do things like find personal information and keep tabs on people, but it doesn’t. It makes me feel safer.
“I can do that.” Damian’s eyes open in surprise. Satisfaction rolls over me, knowing that I’m giving him something he needs. This is how I’ll get him to open up to me, even if it means sacrificing some of my independence.
He takes my chin between his fingers and pulls me to his lips.
“Jesus, Damian.” The harsh voice breaks our kiss and I turn to glance over my shoulder. Cole is standing in the doorway, staring at my ass.
“I’m good, Cole,” I rush out, unable to help the grin that spreads. “I liked it.” Something unfamiliar flashes over his face, his blonde curls swaying over his brow as he shakes his head. A rush of humiliation runs through me and I pull the corner of the bedspread over me to cover my lower half.
Damian’s arm tightens around me. “Cole,” he warns. It’s enough to make his brother’s face soften. “We need to have a talk later.” And that hardened look returns. There’s tension brewing between them that makes me uneasy. I can’t help wondering if it’s my fault.
