Chapter 27: Tape Me

••~~CORIAN~~••

Victoria must be out her damn mind.

Give her my house?

She really sat there, chin high, crocodile eyes shining, and said, “I deserve your house.”

This house?

My fucking cave?

Nah.

I’d rather die. Twice. On camera. With applause.

I curved into the parking lot, my grip strangling the wheel, the car jerking into park.

Harvey’s calm, therapist-on-payroll voice piped up in my head: “Breathe. Stay calm.”

Fuck calm.

I was ready to split heads.

I slammed the front door shut, jacket hitting the couch before I even looked up…

And froze.

Music.

Loud. Old-school Etta James pouring out of the speakers.

And her.

Maddison.

Barefoot. Paint-smeared. In little shorts that barely covered her ass.

My blood pressure dropped and spiked in the same second.

I slowed to the edge of the patio. Stopped. Hands braced on my hips. Because damn.

Her back was to me. And what a back.

Hair in a messy bun. Neck long. Skin flushed.

Her spine dipped sweet into that perfect curve of ass....

Jesus. That curve, it evaporated all of Victoria's poison.

Maddison was painting. With the art set I’d dropped on her bed yesterday. Tubes, brushes, water jars, mess everywhere. She spun for a clean brush…

And saw me watching.

“Mr. Van Halen…” she gasped, cheeks lighting.

Her new angle revealed the canvas behind her. My lungs emptied. My entire body locked on one spot. What a phenomenal art!

The painting bled. The kind of art that steals breath before your brain catches up.

“You drew that?” My voice was rough.

Of course she had.

But that stroke. That color. That style. It reminded me of someone I knew. Someone I once… Loved. And someone who fucked me up for good.

“Guilty,” she teased, hand lifted like a criminal caught red-handed.

I swallowed hard. Fuck me.

“You’ve got good hands.” It was all I could get out.

She tilted her head, a little smile tugging. Free. Freer than I’d seen her yet. And damn, she didn’t look like she had even contemplated running away from me.

Good girl.

But then my eyes dropped.

White tee. No bra. Again.

Her nipples straining against the fabric, hard enough to fight me.

I moved. Fast. Closed the distance, my hands gripping her waist, pulling her flush against me, paint be damned.

“You really walking around with your tits out, Tiger? Do I have to sew the bra to you?” I growled.

“About that…” she whispered, cheeks flushed, “I figured we could reach a compromise.”

“A bargain?”

“Yes.”

Oh, she was bold today. Bold or stupid. Testing me. Begging me to punish her… again.

“No leaving the house without a bra,” she bargained, tucking paint-streaked hair behind her ear.

I clenched my jaw. “I don’t want Ausley seeing what’s mine.”

She smirked, reckless. “Then I’ll use tape.”

Oh, Tiger.

“You’ll use tape now.”

Her eyes widened, and that pulse in her throat fluttered. She wanted me. God, she wanted me so bad she could barely breathe straight.

I scooped her up before she could blink, her gasp hot against my ear, her legs locking around my waist. The pool table groaned under her weight when I set her down, thighs opening, just enough to make my cock throb.

I yanked open the drawer. Black duct tape. Thick. Heavy-duty. Exactly what she needed.

“Take it up.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Your shirt. Take it up.”

She hesitated, biting her lip, then lifted.

Jesus.

Her tits. Round, stiff, flushed, nipples pebbled like they’d been waiting all day for me to notice, begging for my mouth.

I wanted to taste. Hard. But if I started, I’d for sure not make it to the Rig tonight.

Our eyes locked. She knew what I was thinking. She wanted it too.

Not yet, Tiger. Not yet.

I held one breast, rolling her nipple hard with my thumb.. She gasped, body jerking, thighs squeezing together like she could stop the ache between them. Then I pressed it flat, before laying the first strip of tape

“Does it hurt?” I murmured, dragging it out.

She shook her head too fast, breath catching, lips parting in a soft whimper she tried to bite down.

“Good girl,” I muttered, laying the second strip slower. Her little shiver made my dick kick against my zipper, begging to break free… but I yanked the reins.

Chill the fuck out, Trojan.

“There,”

I sighed, stepping back. My eyes dragged over every inch of her, making sure she felt it. That was mine now, and she needed to know it.

“I mean it, Maddison,” I said, my voice rough with control I barely had. “No one sees what’s mine.”

. “Yes…” she whispered lowering her shirt.

I gripped her chin, forcing her eyes up to mine. “Yes what?”

Her breath shook. “Yes, Master.”

Fuck. The way her voice broke on that word...

Fuck.

I want her in my mirror room bad.

Then her hand slid toward my shirt. I caught it fast, snapping my fingers around her wrist.

Scars hid beneath this shirt. Scars no one had ever seen.

“I just…” she whispered, eyes fixed on the paint stains. “Got paint all over you.”

“It’s just a shirt, Maddison.”

I moved her hand to her thigh. She wanted to ask more, but her gaze caught the painting on the wall.

“Who drew that?”

“Nobody I remember.” Lie. That canvas belonged to a past I swore was dead.

“It looks… like something I’d draw,” she said softly.

Her mouth. God. A mouth that didn’t know when to quit. Maybe I should tape that too.

I caged her in with my arms, palms on either side of her hips. “How’s your ass?”

Her blush lit her whole body. “How do you think?”

I could still feel my thumb from earlier, right where I’d put it. It twitched against the pool table now, and her gaze followed the movement, locking on the little traitor like it had its own voice whispering to her.

I didn’t need to be inside her head to know exactly what she was picturing.

“I admit,” I said, dragging her eyes back to mine, “I pushed you... It was too much. Too fast. Won’t happen again. Not unless you ask.”

She froze. Then flushed deeper. Neck to chest, color blooming like it was taking its time undressing her in front of me.

She wanted it. Just wasn’t ready to hand me the confession yet.

“I’m not going to ask,” she muttered, eyes dropping.

Liar. She’d begged me not to stop.

I cupped her jaw. “I know the contract doesn’t allow stop words. But if you’d told me to stop, I would have.” My voice dropped, rough. “Just don’t push me like that again. Or I’ll make you burn for it.”

Her spine stiffened. Tiger eyes blazing.

“I’m not a prisoner in your house, Mr. Van Halen.”

“Corian,” I snapped.

She held her ground. “I’m allowed to go to a club. Have fun. With a friend. Corian.”

The way she says my name—

It’s gasoline. And when she moans it? That’s the soundtrack to my grave.

“You check in with me first. You don’t ditch Ausley. And you wear a bra.”

Her eyes sparked fire.

“I’m not some obedient little mouse. I don’t always do as I’m told. I didn’t grow up with fences and fairy tales. I had to break rules to survive. So maybe you picked the wrong girl.”

Oh, Maddison.

I leaned in…close enough that she could feel my breath slide over her lips. “You’re my girl now, Maddison.” My grip tightened on her hip until she gasped. “And you’ll learn to do as you’re told.”