Page 51 of Satan's Naughty List
“Please,” I whimper. They both freeze, and I do too. It’s like it slipped but intentionally forcing me to show my cards to them.
“Aspen,” Techy groans with a pained expression. Leaning forward, I level his gaze with mine. A struggle battles behind his depths. While he wages war on himself, I turn and do the same to Nomad.
His deep blues are like steel, giving nothing away. I don’t hold back. Everything I want to say, desperate to portray, is poured from my heart and through my eyes.
“Make it go away.”
Something snaps inside both of them as Nomad dives toward us, careful not to hurt myself nor Techy. His hand cups my jaw, and brings me in for a searing, heart stopping kiss.
It’s like air is not needed as he eats me up. There’s no stopping, no slowing down. This is a run-away train, and I have no desire to be the one to pull the brakes. A second pair of familiar hands move my hair, plush lips taking over as wet kisses are placed on the pulse point in my neck. Their kisses are similar in the way they push what they feel through it, but this is different. He showers my heart with love, pushing past the dark clouds that threaten to overtake me. Sunlight breaks through the barrier of darkness. He breathes life into me with his kiss, like zapping me with an electrical current.
Jerking back, I flicker between the two men. Their body language portrays complete mercy and submission, not quite something I’d see from historical encounters.
“What do you need from us?” Nomad asks, his fists clenching and jaw ticking. At first, I believe he’s upset with me. Then, I watch his hands reach for me and stop, going back to his side.
My eyes flutter shut with a disgusted shiver. Several hands touch me in places that I don’t want, forcing me to take their punishments and pleasures as my own. I can’t help the chill that rakes over me.
“I just want it to go away. Make it stop,” I plead. The two men glance between one another before Nomad stands from the bed.
“I’d like to teach you the safety of submission,” Nomad suggests softly, holding out his calloused hand. “We won’t be in the club, but I want you to know that you’re in charge. What happens with us is controlled by you. The power is completely in your hands.”
Bile rises in my throat at the thought. Being strung up, pushed toward a limit that I’m afraid of…
“Will you join us?” Techy asks from below me. I search his face, the honesty unwavering.
After several moments of silence, I decide that this may be my chance to let go. Be free from the chaos living inside of me, and choose things for myself for a change.
“Yes.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Nomadlaysmegentlyon his bed, his lips remaining locked with mine as he shows me the truth of what we’re doing. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Tipping my head to the side, he breathes wickedly into my neck, licking the pulse point. My eyes threaten to flutter shut until I catch sight of the window. Not the window itself, but the snow falling heavily to the ground.
“That’s so beautiful,” I whisper, a chill casting through me as both men blow cool air over the wet spot. Pure white snow coats the ground outside. A simplicity in the view makes my chest suddenly feel more free. Lighter than before. If I wanted, I could charge outside and dance in it. They’d only stop me to bundle me up. And ensure I’m not a trip hazard.
“Just like you,” Techy whispers, kissing toward my temple. Nomad joins him, their mouths meeting in a searing kiss right above my ear. Nomad pulls away first, tugging his own lip as he focuses on me. Leaning down, he holds my gaze.
“Remember,” he leans down and nibbles my ear, “you’re in charge.” Lightening zings through my core at the confession. With his wicked smirk, something inside my brain seems to snap. As if we were meant to be here all along.
“I want you to remember these words and what they mean,” Techy starts, crawling onto the bed behind me. His shirt is nowhere to be seen, his glorious chest on display. He may not be made of muscle like Nomad, but he’s nothing less than perfect. Biting the lobe of my other ear, goosebumps race across my skin at the pure need pooling in my panties.
I just want this to stop…
“Green,” Nomad grunts, tugging the hem of my shirt upward. He waits for permission, which I grant without hesitation this time. “That means you’re fine, you’re good to keep going.”
“Yellow,” Techy follows quickly, fingering the latch of my bra. Another nod and it’s popped off me, sliding down my arms to my elbows. Both men groan at the sight of my breasts. Scars litter the pale flesh. But I’ve decided that I’m going to brace for the point of no return. “Yellow means slow down or you don’t like something, but not to stop completely.”
Air whooshes from my lungs as Nomad bites into the soft flesh on my neck. There’s no doubt of a mark appearing. Instead of mortification, it’s almost…freeing. The pain seems to wash right into a soothing pleasure from them both caressing me. It’s odd, because when I was in captivity, pain was pain. Pleasure simply didn’t exist.
Now, there’s pleasure in the pain itself.
“Red,” they both say, stopping their ministrations completely. I lock eyes with Nomad as he drills his point home.
“Red means stop,” he grunts, backing away slightly.
“We won’t keep going or wait until the session is over. If you say red, we drop everything we’re doing and go right into aftercare.”
“Aftercare?” I ask, craning my neck to look over my shoulder at the man in question.
