#3: I Can't See

~Lila~

The heavy oak door of Thorne’s office clicks shut behind me, but the sense of entrapment follows me right into the corridor.

Before I can even take a full breath of the cooler hallway air, a broad, calloused palm presses firmly against the small of my back and the heat of Ryder’s hand burns straight through the fabric of my button-down shirt, steering me forward without giving me a single inch of leeway.

“Don’t touch me,” I say, keeping my voice low so the passing club staff won’t overhear the tremor of pure fury vibrating in my chest.

I try to shoulder away from his grip, but he simply shifts his hand higher, forcing me to keep pace with his long strides.

“You lost the right to make demands the second you stepped into Thorne’s office to try and get me replaced, Bud,” Ryder murmurs, his deep voice scraping against my ears. “We’re on my clock now. You are going to learn exactly how this dynamic works, and we are starting immediately.”

“Stop calling me that!” I snap, tilting my chin up to glare at his profile as we walk. He looks completely unbothered, his jaw set in that rigid line I remember all too well from a lifetime ago. “You don’t own me, Ryder. This is a temporary training contract for a federal investigation. You’re a tool the bureau hired, nothing more.”

A faint, dangerous smile touches the corner of his lips, though he doesn’t look down at me. “Yes, I am a tool. But I’m also the one you are going to have to use to survive that auction ring. Every time you open your mouth to disrespect me, you’re only proving Thorne right. You have no control here, and the sooner you accept that, the less painful this process is going to be for you.”

We walk in silence for a moment more as I process his words.

“Why not let someone else do the job?” I ask, finally. “You've made it crystal clear years ago that you don’t care.”

“Think of this as my atonement for our past. Now let’s go.”

With a nudge, he urges me forward as anger shimmers off of him. His presence fills the air around me, forbidding.

Atonement, my ass.

Repressing a quiver of apprehension, I move forward, my heels clicking on the hard floors as he stalks behind me. He might be in charge… for now. But I have one power that Ryder absolutely must respect. The minute he tries to exert his will? I’ll blurt my safe word faster than he can spit and Thorne, watching our exchange, would be forced to replace Ryder with another Dom. Then I can get down to serious training.

But whatever my first lover’s game, I'm not playing it.

We reach the end of the hall, where a heavy, reinforced steel door stands apart from the other rooms. Ryder pulls a keycard from his pocket, swipes it through the digital reader, and the lock disengages with a heavy, mechanical thud. He pushes the door open and gestures for me to precede him.

The space is utilitarian, with gray concrete floors and black walls. A padded table, a spanking bench that looked like a sawhorse, a large wooden X, and a bed outfitted with nothing but a fitted, black silk sheet.

Is this his dungeon?

“Stand in the center of the room and present yourself,” Ryder commands.

I turn around to face him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Let’s establish some ground rules first. I am willing to learn the terminology and the basic physical postures required to fool the auction handlers, but I am not going to–”

“I did not ask for a negotiation, Agent Mitchell,” Ryder cuts in, his blue eyes locking onto mine with a chilling intensity that freezes the words in my throat. “I gave you a direct order. In this room, you do not speak unless you are answering a question or using your safe word. First warning. Come here and do as you’re told or we’ll start our time together with a hell of a spanking.”

Spanking. As in his hand on my ass…

The thought ripples through me with an involuntary blast of heat. I don’t waste my breath to challenge Ryder and say that he wouldn’t dare. I know he would.

Damn it. Why did that make my panties damp?

I swallow hard, the sheer weight of his presence pressing down on me. I slowly drop my arms, stepping into the center of the room. Remembering the basic stance Axel demonstrated earlier in the week, I drop to my knees, resting my palms flat on my thighs and keeping my spine straight.

Ryder walks a slow, predatory circle around me, his boots clicking softly against the concrete. He stops directly in front of me, looking down with a critical, unimpressed expression. He crouches in front of me.

“Look at me.”

I meet his stare with cool challenge.

He raises a single brow. “You can’t follow my simple instructions, but you’re going to breeze through some slave-peddling asshole trying to mold you into the perfect submissive while you search for your missing agent?”

I pause. As much as I want to hate him now… he’s right. Until Thorne assigns me a new Dom, I’m stuck with Ryder. And whatever the situation, I have to control my anger – and my anxiety that Ryder will have to touch me.

His eyes roam over my kneeling form.

“Axel might have accepted that posture, but it is completely useless for what you are trying to accomplish,” he says, reaching down to hook two fingers under my chin, forcing my head back so I have no choice but to look at him. “Your body is rigid, your shoulders are tense, and your eyes are spitting fire. A buyer in that ring will look at you and see a federal plant within five seconds. True submission isn’t just a physical position, Bud. It is the visible willingness to please the person holding the authority. You are radiating resistance.”

“Maybe that’s because the person holding the authority is a pathetic liar,” I whisper, deliberately baiting him, waiting for the anger to crack his perfect military discipline.

A muscle ticks in Ryder’s cheek. “I still didn’t give you permission to speak. That’s something that won’t be tolerated when you’re undercover. For that, I’ll punish you with two swats, in addition to the five I’d already decided to give you for running to Thorpe instead of working your differences out with me. For cursing, I’m adding another two. For failing to address me as ‘Ryder,’ I’ll add three more.”

Neither Axel nor Marcus has touched me all week. Nor had I wanted them to. But against my will, I feel heat climb up my neck at the dizzying number of blows Ryder promised to inflict on my ass. I feel my pussy twitch.

Damn it, I shouldn’t react like this with him.

I tilt my chin up. “Don’t most of you control freaks want to be called Sir or Master?”

He laughs. “Usually. But for you, I’m making an exception. I want to hear my name on your lips so I know you’re aware of exactly who’s making you come.”

I bite my tongue. I’d love to toss his self-assurance back in his face and vow there is no way in hell he’d arouse me enough to climax. But if he’d managed to make a virgin gasp and claw and melt in his arms at sixteen, what could a grown man do to a woman hungry for another orgasm like that?

It’s a nonissue though, because we won’t be together long enough for that to happen. Still, I take the opportunity to bait him.

“You don’t get to make me come. That’s my fiancé’s role.”

He smirks. “I’d read that you were engaged to Bruce Thompson. I figured you’d fall in love with someone who had at least a shred of honor.”

“Since he didn’t lie to me to steal my innocence, then dump me flat the next day, I’d say he’s a huge step up from you.”

Ryder tenses, fists clenching, muscles bunching, veins bulging. “When you’re with me, the man is irrelevant, his name does not cross your lips, and that ring comes off your finger. Are we clear?”

I smile and slowly peel it off before placing it in my pocket. “As long as you understand that you’re not to touch me sexually. I choose to give him my orgasms.”

And I would… if only Bruce could arouse me enough to have one.

His smug smile makes my heart stutter. “We’ll see what your body says when I’ve got your legs spread and my tongue all over your clit. Again.”

I bite my lip to keep from sucking in an inflamed breath. His words flares heat between my legs as memories bombard me. More moisture coats my panties.

Damn it, why does my body react to him with anything other than disgust?

“No commentary?” he asks with an arched brow. “Good. Now where was I? Oh, for your disrespect in calling me a control freak, I’ll add another three smacks. How many is that so far?”

God, I want to spit in his face.

“Fifteen,” I say through clenched teeth.

Ryder smiles. “You’re going to have the most gorgeous rosy ass when I’m through with you, Bud.”

I wish I had the luxury of telling him there is no way I am letting him touch my ass, but I need to rid myself of Ryder and get another Dom. Until then, I’ll stick it out, no matter how difficult or distasteful.

“Strip,” he says, his voice dropping into a register so low and dangerous it sends an involuntary shiver straight down to my thighs.

My breath hitches. “W-what?”

“You heard me,” he says, stepping back and folding his arms over his chest, his gaze locking onto mine. “Remove every stitch of your clothing and place them neatly on the chair by the door. If you want to talk about your fiancé while you are in my dungeon, you are going to do it completely bare. Let’s see how much your pride protects you then.”

I hesitate, my eyes darting to the camera at the corner of the room. “Thorne is watching.”

“He’s likely not the only man who will see you naked before this mission is over. You’re going to last longer if you focus only on pleasing the Dom in front of you. When you’re ready to work, remove everything, fold it neatly at my feet, then resume your position. Hesitating will cost you another ten swats.”

Fury broils over my composure. God, what had I ever seen in him besides those shiver-worthy blue eyes?

Once upon a time, he’d seemed really, really genuine with me. In high school, we’d studied British literature classics, and I’d learned a lot about his heart. He’d debated Shakespeare’s starcrossed teen lovers, worried about Tiny Tim. He’d even wrung his hands waiting for Elizabeth Bennett to have her happily ever after with Mr. Darcy. And I’d delighted at his capacity to feel.

That boy is long gone, if he’d ever really existed.

Now, the bastard is doing everything possible to make my job hell. I press my lips together and wipe the mulish expression off my face.

Think about proving yourself on this mission, I say to myself. Think about Harper.

“Now,” he barks. “That position you’re in is not only for you to show your obedience, but your willingness to accept your Dom in whatever way he wishes to have you. It’s also to tempt him by showing off your body. I can’t see what you’ve covered, Bud. Strip.”

This is it. This is the boundary push I need to justify my exit. But as I look at him, a strange, reckless challenge flares up inside me. If I safe-word out now, before he even touches me, Thorne will just call me weak. He’ll tell Ruiz I couldn’t handle the psychological pressure and I’ll be replaced. I need to show them I am entirely cooperative, and that he is the one who cannot maintain professional distance.

“Fine,” I say, my voice steadying as I rise to my feet.

I reach for the top button of my blouse, my fingers steady despite the frantic pounding of my heart. I unbutton the shirt slowly, deliberately keeping my eyes locked on his, trying to use my own body as a weapon to rattle him. I slide the fabric off my shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. Underneath, I’m wearing a simple black lace bra that pushes my breasts up, my nipples already hard from the sheer tension in the room.

Ryder doesn’t move a muscle, but I watch the way his pupils dilate, his gaze tracking the movement of my hands as I reach for the fastening of my trousers. I unzip them, the sound incredibly loud in the quiet room, and step out of the heavy fabric, leaving me in nothing but the bra and a pair of matching lace panties.

The air in the dungeon feels icy against my bare skin, making a row of goosebumps break out along my arms, but the heat radiating from Ryder’s stare is almost palpable. His eyes travel down my torso, lingering on my waist, before tracing the curve of my hips. He stops when his gaze hits my upper left thigh, right where a tiny, crescent-shaped birthmark sits against my pale skin.

I look up and see his heated gaze devouring my flushing face, swelling breasts , and dampening sex. He looks ready to eat me alive. A fresh jolt of desire pounds through my body, as subtle as a sledgehammer.

When has Bruce ever looked at me like that?

“Over the bed,” he orders in a tight voice.