Page 64 of Obey

It’s me.

My wrists locked in cuffs, Nate behind me, deciding whether I’ve earned another strike while Jace kneels close enough to whisper filthy encouragement against my skin.

I whimper softly as Elias’s thumb drifts higher, his fingertips grazing the sensitive underside of my breast. Of all the day I decide not to where a bra.

“What’s the matter, Little Doe?” he murmurs as another strike echoes through the room.

Jace’s head falls forward with a delighted grunt, and my eyes close as another fantasy blooms, sharp and unbidden: Elias’s hand cupping my chin, forcing me to watch as Nate brings the cane down. Jace on his knees beneath me, his clever fingers working me open as he whispers how pretty I look taking it for them.

My hips roll once against Elias before I even realize I’m moving.

“Careful.” The warning is pure gravel, and it only makes me do it again.

Elias’s hand slips from under my shirt and settles against my throat, holding me firmly against him. “You keep teasing,” he murmurs, his voice low and sure, “and you’ll learn exactly what happens when you provoke me.”

I turn my head until my cheek nearly brushes his. His gaze drops to my mouth as he applies the smallest amount of pressure to my throat, and I tip my head back against his shoulder, baring more of my neck.

“That’s an answer,” he says quietly as his thumb strokes my pulse. “I think with the right encouragement, you’d take whatever we gave you, wouldn't you?”

His mouth brushes my ear. “Tell me, is our girl more for praise or degradation.”

“Maybe both?” A low hum rumbles from his chest. “Something tells me our Little Doe likes being called a good little slut while she’s getting her brains fucked out.”

My teeth sink into my bottom lip at his words, and I’m so turned on I can barely think. My body is answering questions I haven’t figured out how to ask. And beneath it all, there is one humiliating truth: I’m not scared.

For one dizzying second, I want to stop fighting it.

That’s what finally terrifies me.

I jerk out of Elias’s hold so fast I nearly stumble. “I have to go.”

“Sloane.”

“No.” My voice cracks. “I-I shouldn’t have come up here.”

He doesn't try to stop me. His hands fall away, leaving me free to go. As I back away, Nate’s gaze lifts past Jace and catches mine through the cracked doorway.

My stomach drops.

He knew. This entire time, he knew I was here.

He doesn’t move, but his jaw tightens, something dangerous flickering there. Then Jace laughs, low and taunting, shifting against the restraints with deliberate slowness.

"Running already, Sugar? You just got here."

The invitation in his voice makes my face burn, Nate’s silence somehow worse than any shouted demand. I turn and hurry down the hall toward my desk, nearly tripping as I grab my laptop bag before power walking to the elevator.

The ride down is a blur. By the time I make it home, the key fumbling in my fingers, the humiliation has curdled into a frustrating, unbearable throb.

By morning, I'm exhausted, oversensitive, and furious with all of them, but mostly with myself.

I call in sick before I can talk myself out of it. It's the first time I've missed a day since starting at SOLAÉ, and I don't even bother inventing an elaborate excuse.

I tell them I'm not feeling well and won't be coming in.

Technically, it's not a lie. The thought of walking into that building and looking any of those three men in the face makes me feel physically ill.

Cypress seems to agree.