“Noah…” I moaned, the pain was nothing in comparison to the pleasure I got when he looked at me like this. Like I was the only woman in the world, his own personal masterpiece. Closing my eyes, I accepted everything, jumping only when I felt the rope move between my thighs.

“Beautiful,” he whispered when he was done.

I was completely under his control, unable to move, unable to think of anything but him, wanting him.

He bit his own lip as his thumb brushed over my nipples. “I’ll never stop being turned on by this.”

“Noah—”

“Say it.”

I couldn’t. I was already melting in his hands, my body hot.

“Baby,” he said as he kissed my jaw, his hand securely on my neck, “I know you want to. Don’t torture me. Say it.”

“W—whip … me.” My voice trembled, not out of fear—no, fuck, I wanted it. “Whip me.”

Kissing my lips hard, he got up and grabbed the horsetail whip, and like always, he let it glade freely over my skin before …

SNAP. The middle of my back.

SNAP. The side of my stomach.

The whip glided up my stomach and rested right on my hip. I glanced up at him and he back down at me.

SNAP.

“Ahh!” I hissed, my head thrown back.

SNAP.

SNAP.

“Fuck,” I moaned

“Spread your legs.”

He didn’t need to ask twice. I more than glad to—

SNAP.

The sound of his whip smacking my wet pussy … I would never not be embarrassed by it, but I’d always want it.

Wiggling under him, I ached for him. I needed him.

 SNAP.

SNAP.

SNAP.

SNAP.

“NOAH! Please,” I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed him.

“Say it.”

“Fuck me, please!”

He smirked, bent down, and lifted me off the ground with ease before dropping me onto my stomach in the middle of the bed.

“If it’s a fuck you want, it’s a fuck you’ll get,” he replied rubbing his cock in between my ass cheeks slowly, making me even wetter, if that was possible. My only reply was to shake my ass for him—it was the only part of myself I could really move at this point, anyway.

“Noa—”

“Fuck,” he gasped, thrusting himself into me. My mouth dropped open from the sheer pleasure of it. He waited only for a second, if that, before pulling out and burying himself again, even deeper, over and over again.

“Two weeks,” he grunted, thrusting so hard the bed slammed into the wall. “Two. Fucking. Weeks. How did I live without you and this fucking ass for two weeks?”

I didn’t know. My mouth was open, but the only sounds coming from it didn’t sound like English.

"Noah—"

"No," he declared.

"So close."

"We do it together," he responded.

I didn't think I could wait for him. I didn't want to.

"Come … on ... baby," he said between grunts above me.

With each thrust, I felt myself losing any control over my body I had left. The sweat dripped from his body on to mine, and I welcomed it. All of him—I wanted it.

“NOAH!”

“AMELIA!” he cried out when he came, breathing in deeply for only a second before pulling out of me, my body crumbling on to the bed.

My chest rose and fell as I lay on top of the sheets.

Neither of us spoke as he moved to untie me, a process that thankfully took less time than the actual tying.

“I missed you,” he said when he undid the final tie, kissing the middle of my back. Smiling, I rolled over, opening my arms to him, and he lay down on top of me.

“I missed you more.”

Noah

“You both gotta be kidding me!”

Cracking one eye open, the first thing I saw was hair, Amelia’s brown hair, sprawled out on my face, her naked body partially on mine. And in the doorway was Austin, glaring down at the both of us.

“It’s 10 a.m., Amelia. You have a photo shoot in an hour!”

“Please make him go away,” Amelia groaned, grabbing the sheets and dragging them over her head.

“Austin, go away,” I laughed, pulling the sheet over my head as well and grabbing her sides, causing her to giggle hysterically as she tried to roll away from me.

“You both have been like this for three months. The honeymoon needs to be over. Get up, or I swear, Amelia, I’ll make sure you’re thirty before you get another day off!” he snapped, slamming the door behind him.

“You’re only punishing the both of us!” she yelled in return as I pinned her under me.

“You’re going to give him gray hair,” I teased.

“Says the man who ditched his work in New York for a quick screw,” she laughed, sticking her tongue out at me.

“It was hardly quick—”

“Noah. Get out here now!” Austin bellowed.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“We get it! We’re—”

“Noah!”

I froze. The tone his voice was odd. Rolling off Amelia, I pulled on my boxers before opening her bedroom door to find him staring at the TV on the wall. The scroll on the bottom read, “Huge drug bust in the heart of Chicago today.”

“Have you lost your fucking mind, Austin? I nearly had a heart attack. Why would you—”

He rewound to three minutes prior, pausing on a shot of Frank, shooting at the fucking police before jumping into a white van.

“Keep watching,” he said, fast-forwarding.

“One of the suspects, Frank Sloan, father of former child star Noah Sloan, is currently on the run—” He muted the television, pinching the bridge of his nose.

I didn’t have words. How? How is it possible for one man to be so fucking stupid?

“You should be able to guess how this gets worse,” Austin groaned, trying to contain the rage we both had to be feeling at this point.

“It gets worse than this?” Amelia stepped out, gray robe wrapped around her body, her hair an absolute mess, and I loved it. When I stretched my hand out to her, she came over, placing her hands on either side of my face.

“I get it. Being on the police’s radar—in any way, shape, or form—is bad,” she whispered, her hands working their way into my hair. “But he knows nothing about us.”

“Amelia,” I said. Sighing, I rested my head on her stomach. If only it was that simple.

“Tell me,” she demanded.

“In Chicago, the drugs come from one place. And there is an unspoken rule for all dealers.” Even after all this time, it still felt odd talking to her about this.

“An unspoken rule?” she repeated.

“Either you pay back the merchandise, or the Callahans will come for your family,” Austin finished for me. However, when her hands froze, I glanced up at her.

“The Callahans … I’ve heard that name somewhere.”

I snorted and kissed her hands. “They’re like royalty in Chicago. Hell, they basically own it—”

“No. I mean I know that name. Is one of them named Melody? Melody Giovanni Callahan? I know her.”

“You know a Callahan?” Austin grunted, but from the look on her face, I knew she wasn’t joking about this. Why would she if she didn’t even know who they were?

“Amelia,” I said, “how do you know her?”

“She helped me,” she said, not at all making sense. Melody Callahan. Though I had never met her, I knew she did not help people. Used them, broke them, killed them, yeah—but helped? “When you were arrested for the whole Mallory thing, I tried to get proof that it wasn’t your fault. I failed miserably. Then out of nowhere, Melody Callahan picked me up and said she would give me what I needed if I gave up Sheldon Worcester. She needed his help and promised she wouldn’t do anything to him, so I told her. I didn’t know she had anything to do with drugs!”

“You sold your friend out to the head of the Italian mob,” Austin chimed in, not at all fucking helping.

“What?” she panicked. I didn’t give a damn about Sheldon Worcester. My biggest concern was the ripple effect this would have—