camera right above me in the light fixture, looking down on me. Is Rat watching this? My cheeks flare, anger boiling.
I expect Spider to take me now, hard and savage, a final insult to injury. Instead, he backs up a pace. “Get dressed.”
I jerk upright, hissing when the clamps pull on my nipples, reanimating the ache there. “What?” He can’t be doing what I think he’s doing.
His lips twitch. “Get dressed.”
Oh, Lord, he is.
I close my eyes. “You’re going to make me go down there with these things on?”
He shrugs.
Humiliation like I’ve never felt before washes over me. Will this never end?
Again, with nothing else I can do, I climb off the bed on weakened knees.
“How long can these things stay on?” I jerk my panties and pants on. “Won’t it cut off the circulation?”
He smiles as if to say, Nice try. “If I’d tightened them, yes. They’re loose, so I could leave them on for a couple of hours. Relax, you’ll be fine.”
A couple of hours! Please, no. The lingering throb is maddeningly erotic. I’ll go crazy if I have to endure it for that long.
I yank on my halter top. As I’m doing up the buttons on the front, I catch my reflection in the mirror above the dresser, and my mouth drops.
The halter is form-fitting, so there’s no way to hide the nipple clamps that tent the front of the top, leaving no doubt that they’re there to anyone who sees them. The jeans cover the clit clamp, the material too thick to see it, but the ring that connects the three chains is right at my navel. The attention-grabbing black circle with its silver spider at once makes it clear to anyone who sees me that the clamp is there. It marks me as his as indelibly as the web on my chest.
“You’re twisted, Spider,” I tell him between clenched teeth.
His eyes dance as he moves in behind me, letting his fingers glide over my stomach. The tattoos on the back of his hand stand out against my bare skin, instantly reminding me that we come from two different worlds. That after all the time, all he’s done to me, I’m as far out of my depth as can be.
Spider’s gaze flicks over the clamps poking at my shirt, and he gives the connective chain that trails down along my stomach a gentle tug. The sensation causes my nipples and my clit to pinch all at once, sending an infuriating bolt of pleasure rocking through me.
“You’re so fucking hot like this,” he rumbles. “I could bang your fucking ass into next week.”
I long to tell him the same thing I’ve heard him and Striker say to each other when they push each other too far—to go fuck himself—and I don’t even care what my parents would think anymore. I’m on the verge of telling him I’m not going down there with this thing on me for everyone to see, but I know where that would get me. I’d become the entertainment for the clubhouse, put on display exactly as I was the night of Diesel’s party.
There’s no way out of this.
“Let’s get this over with,” I say coldly.
“There’s my girl.” He kisses my temple and gives my throat a squeeze. The pride in his tone baffles me. “Except I’m not done yet.”
He steps over to the nightstand and takes something out of the bag he left there.
Oh no. What now?
Coming in behind me once more, he reaches in front of me and holds a collar up to my throat. I put my head back. “I don’t believe you.”
His teeth flash.
Staring at the collar, as ticked as I am, I can’t help noticing the look of it. Unlike the simple leather collar with the ring at the front that I had to wear at The Devil’s Den, this one is gorgeous. Far more elaborate, it’s made of all black steel, but the length of the metal is carved into an intricate spider’s web. The silver loop that hangs from the center is shaped like a spider, and one end has a small silver spider-shaped lock on it, with a tiny key inserted. If this whole thing wasn’t clearly meant to demean and insult me, I’d have been touched by what would have otherwise felt like a beautiful gift that, as a mark of ownership, would have been incredibly hot.
Spider fastens the collar around my throat, and I feel him lock it closed as he turns the key.