Chapter One Hundred and Three

💕Author's Note: Hey, gorgeous! Read ahead (over 100 chapters) by becoming a patron at www.EmendedHearts.com/join

💗💗💗

Frost narrows his eyes at me, channeling all types of sinister and chilling energy my way.

"You don't listen very well, do you?" he says, advancing towards me with the duffel bag and handcuffs in his hands.

It's not a question. It's not even really a statement. It has 'warning' written all over it. In capital fucking letters.

I gulp against the massive lump of anxiety that keeps resurfacing in my throat, failing to swallow it down. My breathing becomes more and more shallow the closer he gets. He never once takes his eyes off me, as if they're a pair of lasers programmed to stay on their designated target—and unfortunately, in this case, that would be little old me.

I move to push the chair back in panic, a wave of adrenaline prepping my body to either run screaming or claw at his gorgeous, sinister face. What I'm not prepared for, however, is a third option; that with the rush of hormones spiking my blood, I don't do either of those things.

I don't flee.

I don't fight.

I...freeze.

I can't move. And the closer he gets, the more paralyzed I become. I can only watch with wide eyes as he completely closes the distance between us and finally stands right next to my quivering body.

He nonchalantly places my duffel bag and the handcuffs on the table. My eyes inadvertently catch a glimpse of light reflecting off the polished silver, gliding over the curve of one of the cuffs. I swallow hard at the sight, unable to take my eyes off them.

Oh, Jesus...

He pulls back the chair right next to mine and takes a seat, still staring at me. He doesn't need to say it. His eyes do all the talking for him, and right now, they're saying: Sit the fuck down, Ramona. Don't make me force you.

I exhale in bitter resignation, lowering myself back into the chair, in spite of the fact that my bladder just cursed me and all of my potential future offspring to hell and back. I avert my eyes from his, avoiding his stripping gaze and looking straight ahead at the wall on the other side of the room.

"Look at me," I hear him say, his voice deep, calm.

I swallow even harder and wince as I hear the words. The whole point of looking ahead is so I don't have to look into those sexy, scary ice-blue eyes. I reluctantly turn my head to face him, my neck straining against my resistance to move, and I impulsively hold my breath as soon as I meet his gaze. It's so intense it's almost electric.

"What did I tell you before I left just a moment ago?" he says, his voice eerily calm but his tone condescending.

I frown deeply, knowing where this is about to go and dreading it.

I don't feel like indulging his arrogance, and I don't want to play along to his obnoxious Q&A. Most of all, I definitely don't want to pretend that I'm alright with him talking to me like I'm a child. But I've seen and experienced enough with him even in our limited time together to know that I don't want to deal with the inevitable pushback of being a smart-ass right now. So I don't say anything; aka, I give him a good dose of the silent treatment.

Childish?

Maybe.

But he's the one who started it. He's the one who's treating me like I'm some spoiled, delinquent child in need of punishing.

You get what you give, asshole. Let's see how you like it when—

Out of the blue, a sharp, concentrated sting of pressure violently jolts me out of my unfinished thoughts, both shocking and disorienting me. I inhale harshly; something between a strained breath and a tortured gasp. The sensation is so intense and unexpected that, at first, I can't even voice the surprised yelp that my brain is telling me I have every right to.

Instead, my lips part from each other in a silent 'O', my eyebrows furrowing in both confusion and question as my eyes water with involuntary tears. No words or sounds except my harsh breathing leave my mouth as I stare in horror at the source of my pain:

Frost's fingers.

Clamped around my nipple.

Hard.

Holy fucking hell...did...did he just pinch my fucking nipple?

The sight of his hand over my sensitive flesh—in spite of the clothes covering it—is so surreal I almost don't believe it's happening.

It's like invading my personal space means absolutely nothing to him. And, to make matters worse, he doesn't let go.

His voice turns unbelievably deep and menacing. "We're not going to play that game, Ramona."

He increases the pressure on my nipple and twists it slightly.

That does it.

That pushes me over the edge.

I can't stop the pained gasp-slash-yelp that stumbles out of my throat and I clutch desperately at his hand, feeling my fingernails digging into his skin, but he doesn't budge or let up even a little.

"When I ask you a question, you don't have the option to stay silent. You give me a fucking answer," he says harshly. "Now," he leans in, bringing his face so close to mine that his nose and lips are mere inches away from mine, "let's try this again. What did I tell you before I left?"

I exhale harshly, trying my damnedest to temper the intense throbbing in my left nipple and its echoed ripple in my pussy. I wince, biting my bottom lip against the almost crippling urge to pee. All my nether muscles go into overdrive, clenching and contracting against themselves to the point of pain to keep the ever increasing volume of piss inside my body from violently pouring out.

"You...y-you said to sit tight," I manage to reply, my voice hoarse from the additional strain of his painful grip.

"And did you do that?"

"I was just—ahhh!!!" My words instantly die in my throat as a loud scream rips itself from my chest; a direct result of Frost applying even more pressure to my nipple, twisting and pinching it even harder.

"Oh God, please," I beg as my pussy throbs faster, ferociously pulsating with all the blood in my body.

The thing is...I'm not even sure if I'm begging him to stop or to keep going.

And that scares me to death.

You're insane, Roni, the logical voice in my head scolds. Of course you want him to stop! He's fucking hurting you...isn't he?

"Did you or didn't you?" he barks, forcing me out of my thoughts with his commanding voice and yet another sharp twist to my nipple. The startling, abrasive combination of his voice and fingers forces an immediate answer out of me.

"No!" I squeal, blinking rapidly against the tears pooling at the corners of my eyes.

He scowls. "No, what?"

"No, sir!" I repeat, remembering his rule from earlier as I tremble with both fear and need in my chair.

"'No, sir, I didn't do as you said'," he corrects, coupled with another slight twist of my flesh.

I nod vehemently. "No, sir, I didn't do as you said," I pant, repeating the words in a breathy rush. "I just really need to—"

"Did I ask if you need anything?" he sneers, a vertical furrow forming between his eyebrows.

My eyes slam shut and I throw my head back, suppressing a howl as he tugs on my nipple even harder.

"Oh, fuck!" I whimper breathlessly, trembling in my chair like a helpless child.

"No. No, you didn't. I'm sorry," I stutter, the words leaving my lips as fast as they can to try to make amends. Unfortunately for me, they seem to be falling on deaf ears.

He grazes his nose against my temple in a sinfully gentle, almost endearing motion; a complete and utter contrast to the vice-like grip he has on my more tender skin.

"I don't want your apologies, Ramona." His voice is hushed but still laced with that dangerous edge I've come to know. "I require your obedience. I thoroughly explained that to you in my contract and I thought by signing it you understood that, but clearly you need some...practical lessons to really grasp that concept."

He pulls back a little, putting some space between us and slightly loosening his grip.

I gasp in relief at the small drop in pressure, sucking in air between my teeth as I feel the intense rush of blood quickly concentrating around my breast.

"Since you declined my dinner offer—and quite rudely, I might add—know that you won't be offered anything else to eat for the rest of the night," he says, his eyes narrowed, his tone accusing. "And you should know, Ramona, that that was a dire mistake. Because, believe me when I tell you, you'll need all the energy you can get for what's coming."

I gulp audibly, unable to suppress my renewed fear. He seems to enjoy seeing that.

"Oh, and when you're really begging me for mercy later," he says with another wicked grin, "you should remember that you were the one who made that decision for yourself. And all choices have consequences, Ramona...including yours."

Consequences?Oh, shit.

I remain silent, unable to voice my fear as my eyes stay glued to him. My brain stays on high alert; watching, waiting for him to make a move, to clamp down hard on my nipple again, to do something.

But the only things that move are his perfect lips.

"One of those consequences," he continues, "is that I won't get to eat tonight, either. I mentioned earlier that I don't eat alone when in company based on principle, so by refusing to eat, you're effectively denying me food and sustenance as well. And that, of course, comes with its own set of consequences."

I'm breathing faster now, reluctantly hearing and processing all the words that are leaving his mouth.

He keeps going, his frosty eyes never leaving mine. "Our activities will require focus and energy. A lot of it. Especially on my part. And if I don't eat, I won't have either of those things. As a result, we can't do what I had initially planned," he says, standing up casually.

I groan in relief as his fingers let go of my nipple, my own hand rushing to massage the tortured flesh as it throbs with blood rush and the aftermath of his not-so-delicate grip. I'm barely making a full rotation on my boob when my hand abruptly gets yanked away from my chest and pulled behind my back.

"Owww!!!" I protest, wincing as I try to pull my arm away from him. "Jesus, what the hell...?"

My words trail off as I feel him bending my arm into an extremely uncomfortable position. He pretty much has it in a death lock, partially handicapping me so that I can't move or use my right hand.

"So, instead," he continues, with another tug of my arm, gripping my wrist hard, "I'll cuff you to your chair."

He says the words so easily; in such a matter-of-fact, borderline sociopathic way that completely throws me off and makes my body temperature drop to practically nothing. I swear I can pretty much feel all the blood draining itself from my stunned face.

It's almost like magic when he does it. One second, the handcuffs are on the table in front of me, and the next, they're completely out of sight. I only feel the distinct sensation of cold metal around my wrist and hear the metallic click of the ring snapping closed around me. Another click follows shortly after; the ominous, almost consummating sound of him securing the other cuff to the back of the chair.

Finally, he leans in again, bringing his face so close to mine that I can feel his warm breath on my cheek, simultaneously caressing my skin and setting it on fire as he whispers harshly in my ear, "And you'll stay cuffed to the chair until I decide otherwise."

***

💕Author's Note: Hey again, gorgeous! We'll post one chapter every Friday, but there are currently over 140 chapters, so this may take a while. If you just can't wait, you can read ahead by becoming a patron at www.EmendedHearts.com/join

XOXO 😘

Eme and the hearts @EmendedHearts 💕