Chapter 6: Suspended Breath
The rain followed them back to town, a steady gray curtain that washed the world clean. Sadie moved through the next two days in a haze, every shift of her jeans against the faint, fading marks on her thighs a secret reminder. The memory lived in her body—a soreness that was more than physical, a quiet hum in her veins. She ignored three calls from her chaotic best friend, Lily. She wasn’t ready to fabricate a normal weekend.
Thursday night found her standing outside Rhett’s garage, the neon ‘Closed’ sign buzzing, painting the wet asphalt in streaks of red. She hadn’t been summoned. She’d come anyway, pulled by a gravity she’d stopped trying to fight.
The roll-up door was shut, but the side entrance was unlocked. She stepped into the symphony of his space: the hum of a ventilator, the tang of metal and oil, the low growl of a blues record skipping on a turntable in the corner. Rhett was at his workbench, his back to her, shoulders tense under a worn black t-shirt as he torqued a bolt on a carburetor.
Jace was slouched in a ragged armchair, a bottle of beer dangling from his fingers. He saw her first, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Look what the rain dragged in.”
Rhett didn’t turn. His hands stilled. “You’re early.”
“I didn’t know I was expected,” she said, her voice sounding too loud in the vaulted space.
“You’re always expected,” Rhett said, finally placing the wrench down with a precise click. He turned. His eyes were dark pools, absorbing the light and her nervous energy in equal measure. He glanced at Jace. “Set it up.”
Jace uncoiled from the chair with pantherish grace, setting his bottle aside. He moved to a heavy-duty steel I-beam that ran across the ceiling. From a hook, he took down a length of thick, braided rope.
Sadie’s breath hitched. The memory of the truck bed, of counting, flashed neon-bright.
“Come here,” Rhett said, wiping his hands on a rag.
She went to him, the concrete floor cold even through her boots. He didn’t touch her, just looked down at her, his gaze cataloging every micro-expression. “You asked for this,” he stated, his voice low. “That first night. You said, ‘Show me what happens when I’m yours.’ We’re showing you.”
Jace finished tying a complex knot, the rope ends dangling. He approached with something else in hand: a wide band of black leather, polished to a soft sheen, with a heavy O-ring at the front. A collar.
Sadie’s pulse hammered in her throat, right where the leather would sit.
“Arms up,” Rhett ordered.
She lifted them, and he peeled her hoodie and t-shirt off in one efficient motion. He undid her jeans, pushed them and her panties down her legs. She stepped out, shivering. Naked in the garage’s fluorescent glare, she felt more exposed than she had in the wild.
Jace came behind her. The leather was cool and firm as he buckled it around her neck. It wasn't tight, but its presence was absolute, a constant pressure. He clipped a short, thick chain to the O-ring, then clipped the other end to the bonds he’d already fashioned around her wrists.
Rhett took the free end of the main rope from the beam. “This is about control,” he explained, his tone chillingly matter-of-fact. He pulled the rope slowly, raising her arms above her head. She rose onto her toes as he threaded it through a pulley and pulled it taut, securing it. She was suspended, the weight of her body slightly lifted, leaning forward. “Your control. Every time you struggle, every time you pull against the rope…” He gave a sharp, short tug.
The collar tightened instantly, compressing her windpipe. A spike of pure panic shot through her. It lasted only two seconds before he released the tension, but the threat lingered, a metallic taste in the back of her mouth.
“It tightens,” he finished, his face impassive.
Jace knelt in front of her. His hands gripped the backs of her thighs, spreading her wide. His breath was warm against her inner lips. “Your job is to come,” he said, looking up at her. “His job is to decide when.”
He didn’t linger. His mouth found her clit, his tongue lashing it in broad, ruthless strokes. Sadie gasped, her head falling back, a moan tearing loose. Pleasure, bright and immediate, arrowed through her. Her hips jerked instinctively, seeking more.
The rope jerked. The collar cinched, cutting off her cry and her air.
Her eyes flew open, wide with alarm. Jace didn’t stop. He sucked her clit between his lips, working it with a relentless rhythm she could feel in her teeth. But the lack of oxygen turned the pleasure sharp, jagged. Stars danced at the edges of her vision. Just as the panic began to crest, Rhett released the tension.
She dragged in a ragged, desperate gulp of air. “Fuck…”
“Stay still,” Rhett commanded softly from the shadows behind her.
Jace dove back in, his tongue fucking her opening now, plunging deep, then swirling back to her clit. He was an artist of sensation, building her up with terrifying speed. The coil in her belly tightened, a familiar, urgent fist. She was close, so close, her muscles trembling with the need to let go.
“Rhett… I’m gonna…” she pleaded.
He pulled the rope.
This time, the constriction was tighter, longer. The orgasm that had been seconds away receded like a tide, leaving a desperate, aching void. The pleasure from Jace’s mouth became a torturous buzz, disconnected from release. She choked, a dry, soundless thing, pulling against her bonds. The movement only made the collar bite deeper. Blackness encroached.
He released.
She slumped in the restraints, coughing, tears streaming down her face. Jace lapped at her gently, almost apologetically, as she shuddered. “Breathe, wild girl,” he murmured against her wet flesh.
Again, he built her. Again, Rhett stole the climax at the precipice. It became a cruel, exquisite cycle. Her world narrowed to the heat of Jace’s mouth, the brutal pressure of the collar, and Rhett’s silent, omniscient control. She lost count of the times she was brought to the edge and denied. Her body was a live wire, every nerve screaming. She was slick and swollen, aching with a need that felt like it would crack her open.
“Please,” she sobbed, the word raw. “Please, I can’t…”
“You can,” Rhett’s voice was a low rasp by her ear. His body pressed against her from behind, a solid wall of heat. She felt the hard ridge of his cock through his jeans. “You’re ours. You take it. Now ask for it.”
Jace slowed, his tongue making slow, maddening circles.
“Please,” she whispered, broken. “Please let me come.”
“Again.”
“Please, Rhett. Please, Jace. Let me fucking come. I need it. I need it so bad.” The filth spilled from her, a honest prayer.
Rhett’s hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back. “Now.”
He pulled the rope taut and kept it there.
The collar locked shut. Air vanished. True fear, cold and primal, flashed through her. At the same instant, Jace sealed his mouth over her clit and sucked, hard, his tongue fluttering violently.
The deprivation and the stimulation collided.
She shattered.
The orgasm didn’t crest; it detonated. It ripped through the oxygen deprivation, a silent, concussive wave of pure sensation that blew apart every thought, every fear. Her body bowed violently against the ropes, a silent scream locked in her strangled throat. Colors and noise behind her eyes. A falling sensation.
Just as the blackness threatened to swallow her whole, Rhett released the rope.
Air rushed in, a searing, painful blessing. With it, the orgasm roared back, amplified, transforming into something that wracked her with audible, screaming sobs. She convulsed, wave after brutal wave milking her empty, Jace’s tongue gentling now, drawing out the last exquisite tremors until she was a boneless, weeping weight in the restraints.
Rhett unclipped the chain. He loosened the rope, lowering her gently. Her legs gave out, but he was there, catching her, sinking to the floor with her cradled in his lap. Jace wiped his mouth on his forearm and knelt beside them, his hand coming to rest on her trembling back.
She cried into Rhett’s neck, deep, shuddering cries she didn’t understand. He held her, one large hand cradling the back of her head, his fingers easing under the stiff leather of the collar. He didn’t shush her. He let the storm pass.
When her sobs subsided to hiccups, Jace unbuckled the collar. The cool air on her damp skin felt like a balm. Rhett pressed a kiss to the red mark it left behind.
“You did so good,” Jace whispered, his usual bravado gone, replaced by something awed and tender.
Rhett just held her tighter, his silence more profound than any words. The rain tapped a steady rhythm on the roof. The blues record had reached its end, leaving only the hum of the lights and the sound of her breathing, slowly settling into the rhythm of his.
She was floating, utterly spent. But for the first time, the chaos inside her was quiet. Not gone, but stilled. Held at bay by the sheer, solid weight of their possession.
She nuzzled into Rhett’s throat, her lips against his pulse. “Don’t let go,” she murmured, a raw leak of her most secret fear.
His arms tightened like steel bands. He didn’t promise. He didn’t need to. The way he held her—as if he’d dismantle anyone who tried to take her—was the only answer she would ever need.