Chapter 14 Blindfolded
Claire
My lips parted on a soft gasp as his mouth brushed my shoulder, gentle kisses at first, then a sharp bite of teeth.
“Please don’t leave any marks,” I breathed, the sting blooming hot on my skin.
He didn’t stop. He sucked harder, then straightened, lips glistening.
“It’s not like your husband’s coming home to fuck you tonight,” he said, voice low and cruel. “So don’t worry—he won’t see.”
The words hit like acid. Because they were true.
“But tell me,” he continued, letting go of my nipple and stepping around to face me. His eyes bored into mine. “How the hell did you put up with him all these years?”
He towered over me, waiting.
“Pattie complains all the time,” he went on. “Says she has to fake every orgasm. That he leaves her hanging every single time.”
My eyes went wide.
I couldn’t even pretend to be shocked.
Ian was the only man I’d ever been with—until Liam.
And if I’m being honest?
He was nowhere near this.
A bitter laugh tried to crawl up my throat.
All those years he called our marriage boring, our sex dull—
while cheating with a woman he can’t even satisfy.
The irony tasted like poison.
“I see,” was all that slipped from my lips, barely above a whisper.
He smiled, that slow, dangerous curve of his mouth. Liam thought he was shattering me with every word, but he wasn’t even close.
“Is that why you dragged me here? To mock me?” I asked, lifting my chin.
He nodded without hesitation. “You’re right.” His eyes flicked to the bite mark blooming on my shoulder. “And to please myself. Maybe even you, if you’re lucky.”
I swallowed, my body already betraying me with a rush of heat at the dark promise in his voice.
“Have you ever touched yourself thinking about me?” he asked, eyes pinning mine.
I wasn’t about to confess that I’d come undone in my own bed, fingers buried deep, imagining his cock stretching me.
I shook my head firmly.
“You’re lying,” he said, grin sharpening.
Oh, two can play this game.
“What makes you think I’m lying?” I fired back, voice steady.
The smile died on his face. His eyes turned stormy.
Got him. I’d struck his ego dead-on.
“Is that so,” he murmured, voice dropping to a dangerous growl.
He stared past my shoulder for a moment, like he was deciding my fate, then turned and strode to a sleek black drawer on the side of the room.
I couldn’t help but watch the way his body moved—every step, every flex of muscle under that tight shirt. Damn it, I’d been soaked the second I laid eyes on him. The things he could do to me, the things I didn’t want to admit I craved.
He opened the drawer and pulled out a black silk blindfold, running his thumb slowly over the fabric, testing it. Then he spun back to face me, eyes blazing.
“Come,” he ordered, voice low.
I didn’t say a word, didn’t protest. My legs carried me to him like they had a mind of their own.
“Turn around,” he murmured, so close I could feel his breath.
I did, my breathing already coming in short, ragged gasps.
He slipped the blindfold over my eyes and tied it tight. The world went pitch black.
“I don’t think I like this,” I said, voice trembling despite myself.
He didn’t answer. Just the calm, steady sound of his breathing as he secured the knot.
Now blind, my ears strained for every sound.
I heard footsteps. Then a sharp, metallic clink.
My head whipped toward it.
No. That couldn’t be what I thought it was.
My hands shot to the blindfold, instinct screaming to rip it off.
“Don’t you dare take that off, Claire,” he snarled, voice like a blade.
I froze, a sharp gasp catching in my throat. What freaked me out was not how his voice sounded but what he had called me.
Not Mrs. Claire.
Just Claire.
I dropped my hand, heart beating hysterically in my chest. Then I heard his footsteps again as he moved closer to me, and I swallowed hard. When he held one of my wrists, I knew for a fact what he had taken. Then a cold metal touched my skin and I jerked.
He took the other wrist and did the same, all while standing right in front of me. A sound like a chain hit the ground and I gasped; it seemed he clicked it at the center of the cuffs.
“Follow me,” he said slowly, and I let my legs move.
Suddenly he stopped and I did too. He went behind my back and said, “Two more steps.”
I swallowed hard and did it as he asked, taking one step at a time. On the second one I came in contact with a wooden wall.
“Raise your hands up,” he commanded, and I did. I don’t know what he did next, but suddenly I was pulled up—my arms felt like they were about to come off my shoulders, so I gasped and stood immediately on my toes. The chains clicked, and I turned my head to the side, my breathing coming in gasps.
I didn’t know what he wanted to do to me, and it scared me more than anything because I couldn’t see. He stepped close, his mouth on my ear as he said, “Did you ever touch yourself thinking of me?” He asked that same question again.
Something told me to say yes this time, but I did the latter. I shook my head again and said, “No, I have never done that.”
He hummed then. Suddenly I felt his hand on my ass as he rubbed gently. He moved it between the line and moved it upward and downward through my anus and down to my pussy. I let out a moan, and suddenly his hand grabbed my face.
“Tell me,” he repeated. “You never touched yourself when thinking of me?”
I bit my bottom lip and shook my head again.
“Ahh,” he said slowly. “You will regret this lie.”
With that he left me and walked away.
My ears pricked up as I breathed faster. Soon his footsteps grew closer again, but he stopped just at my side, a little far from me.
“Liam, what are you trying to do?” I said, panicked, but he didn’t answer. Everywhere was calm—too calm—for a second.
And the next thing I felt was what I had never in my life felt before. A cane landed on my backside and I screamed out, “AHH!”
What the fuck? This was not what I expected.
“Stop it, you son of a bitch!”
The second one came right after.
Tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them.
“Stop it… please stop it,” I begged, voice cracking, soft and broken.
But the plea only seemed to feed him.
CRACK.
Another strike landed, fire exploding across my skin.
I let go completely, sobs wracking my body, hanging from the chains like a rag doll.
I hate this. I hate him.
I swear to God, I’ll make him pay.
Even if it’s the last thing I do on this earth, I’ll bring him to his knees.
I’ll crush everything he thinks he owns.
And Ian too.
I’ll burn them both to the ground.
This I swear.
Hard, ugly sobs tore out of me.
The cane clattered to the floor.
He stepped behind me again, breath hot against my ear.
“You shouldn’t have lied,” he hissed, like a psycho savoring every tear.
“Get away from me,” I spat, voice suddenly steel despite the pain.
The second he releases me, I’m gone.
Straight to the police. Blackmail. Assault. Everything, I'll file it against him.
Something I should’ve done the first time.
But instead of backing off, this bastard pressed closer.
“You’ll get used to it,” he whispered.
Then I felt it—his hard cock grinding against my ass through his gray sweatpants.
He was rock-hard, from seeing me crumble. This lunatic.
“This is what you do to me, Mrs. Claire,” he mocked, voice dripping with sick satisfaction.
“I told you to get away from me,” I snapped, but the tears wouldn’t stop. My ass throbbed, fire racing across every welt.
“Tell me the truth, Mrs. Claire,” he whispered, lips brushing my ear, kissing it softly. “Did you hate it that much? Did getting caned make you cry this hard? Didn’t you feel even a little pleasure?”
Who the hell feels pleasure from that?
Then, without warning, he hooked one of my legs up high, hand sliding around to the front.
His fingers found my pussy, slick and swollen, and started rubbing.
I hated my body for it.
“See?” he taunted, circling my clit with cruel precision. “You’re soaked.”
The sting from my ass and the pleasure from his fingers collided, a twisted storm inside me.
A helpless moan slipped out before I could stop it.
“Tell me,” he growled, rubbing faster, relentless. “Did you touch yourself like this? Shove your fingers into your wet pussy like a desperate slut and moan my name?”
His filthy words rang in my ears.
I couldn’t hold back.
Moans spilled from my lips, raw and shameful.
I turned my blindfolded face toward his, searching for something I couldn’t name.
I hated him.
I craved him.
I wanted him gone.
I wanted him to ravage me.