Chapter 496 | The Amenities

Chapter 496: 496 | The Amenities

"You’ll always act tough."

"Fair." She raised her arms, wrists to the padded restraints, and looked at me with the violet contacts swimming and the real brown eyes underneath them wide and waiting. "Do it. And don’t be gentle about it. Gentle makes me itchy."

I secured her left wrist first. The cuff closed with a click, snug and unyielding, and I gave the chain a test pull that forced her arm taut against the frame. She sucked in a breath. Her chest strained against the leather bustier and a bead of sweat tracked down her sternum and disappeared into the cleavage the outfit put on obscene display.

Right wrist next. Same treatment. Now she stood spread against the X-frame, arms locked overhead, the leather doing nothing to hide how her body had already started responding to the loss of control she’d spent her whole life fighting for.

"There she is," I murmured, stepping back to survey the picture she made. "The scariest first-year in Obsidian, tied to a wall and looking at me like she wants to be told what to do."

"I will end you."

"You won’t." I closed the distance and traced one finger down the center of her chest, following the sweat, dipping into the leather. "You’ll thank me. And then you’ll pretend you didn’t and demand coffee jellies as reparations."

"Three coffee jellies. Non-negotiable." Her hips shifted against nothing, seeking friction that wasn’t there. "You still owe me."

"I always pay my debts." I dropped to my knees.

The fishnets were the kind of thing designed to be ruined, and I intended to ruin them. I ran my palms up the outside of her thighs, felt the leather give way to bare skin above the stocking tops, and pressed my mouth to the inside of one knee. Addison’s whole body jerked against the restraints.

"Hey. Hey, wait, I didn’t say—"

I bit the inside of her thigh. Just hard enough. Euphoric Feedback at four, threaded straight into the nerve, and the protest died in her throat and turned into a groan that echoed off the stone walls.

"That’s cheating," she gasped. "The nerve thing. That’s—oh, fuck—"

"You built a dungeon." I moved higher, kissing the strip of skin above the stocking band, my hands spreading her thighs wider against the frame. "You don’t get to complain about the amenities."

The leather at her core had a strategic gap, because of course it did, because Addison had designed this outfit knowing exactly how tonight would go even while she stood there pretending she hadn’t. She was soaked. Had been soaked, probably, since she’d heard whatever leaked through the Sanctum walls from Aurora’s classroom.

I pressed my mouth to her through the gap in the leather.

Addison came off the wall as far as the cuffs allowed, which wasn’t far, and the frame shuddered against the stone as her whole body tried to arch and couldn’t. The sound she made was raw and startled and completely unlike the aggressive snarl she wore in public, and I filed it away with the small collection of noises Addison Baxter made only when she’d stopped pretending.

"Jace." Not milk boy. Not vampire. My name, cracked down the middle. "Jace, that’s—"

I hooked the leather aside and gave her the real thing. Tongue flat, slow, deliberate, the way I’d learned undid her that night in the hospital classroom. Her thighs clamped around my head with the strength of a girl who swung heavy scythes for a living, and Euphoric Feedback climbed to six, and I felt the exact moment her body gave up the fight against being cared for.

Her hips rolled against my mouth. The chains rattled. Above me she was babbling now, a stream of profanity and half-words and my name over and over, the violet contacts probably swimming with the brown underneath threatening to surface.

I added Sensory Hijack. Touch and taste both, layered on top of the Euphoric Feedback until every point of contact doubled and her own arousal flooded her tongue the way it had that first night when I’d made her taste herself.

"What did you—" Her voice climbed an octave. "I can taste—that’s not—you absolute psychopath, what is that ability—"

I didn’t answer. My mouth was busy.

I brought her to the edge slow, then held her there, backing off every time her thighs started to shake with that specific tremor, until Addison Baxter was begging. Actually begging, the girl who’d never asked anyone for anything, the girl whose entire personality was constructed around not needing people.

"Please." The word came out broken. "Please, please, don’t stop, I swear to god if you stop I’ll manifest a scythe and I don’t even care if it kills us both, please—"

I sealed my mouth over her and pushed Euphoric Feedback to eight and gave her everything.

She screamed.

The sound tore through the dungeon and slammed off the stone and came back doubled, and her whole body locked rigid against the restraints, and she came so hard the fishnets couldn’t contain it and moisture ran down the insides of her thighs and dripped onto the floor. Her head snapped back against the frame. The cuffs held her spread and helpless through the entire thing while her body convulsed and I worked her through it, one aftershock rolling into the next until she sagged in the chains, boneless, held up by nothing but the restraints and my hands on her hips.

"One," I said, kissing the inside of her thigh where the bite mark had bloomed red.

Addison lifted her head with visible effort. Her makeup had smeared. The violet contacts had shifted, and I could see the brown underneath, and her chest heaved against the leather bustier as she tried to remember how breathing worked.

"You’re keeping count." Her voice was destroyed. "You’re actually keeping a running fucking tally. That’s so—" She stopped. Swallowed. "That’s kind of hot, actually, and I hate that it’s hot."

"System requires three peaks per target." I rose to my feet, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and let her see me do it. "You’re a target."

"I’m a target." She said it slow, testing the words, and something flickered behind the smeared eyeliner. "Yeah. Okay. I can work with being a target." Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. "Untie one hand. I want to scratch you. I do my best work when I can draw blood."

"No."

Her eyes flew wide.

"You built the dungeon." I stepped between her spread legs and pressed my body against hers, felt her breath catch as she registered exactly how ready I was through the leather. "You picked the cuffs. You wanted to be helpless for an hour." I dropped my mouth to the shell of her ear. "So you’re going to be helpless. And I’m going to give you two more, and you’re going to take them exactly the way I decide to give them, and you’re going to thank me."

Addison shuddered against the restraints, her whole body responding to the loss of control she’d spent her entire life terrified of, and the graft in my chest sang its satisfaction as a dark purple ring blazed brighter in the back of my skull.

"You’re gonna regret giving me this much material for later," she whispered.

"Probably." I hooked my fingers into the top of her bustier. "Ask me if I care."

She grinned, black lipstick smeared across her chin and violet eyes swimming and the brown showing through underneath, and it was the most honest expression I’d ever seen on Addison Baxter’s face.

"Do your worst, milk boy," she said.