Ryan's eyes went wide with pure panic. His mouth opened slightly, the beginning of an argument forming on his trembling lips... "B-but… what if I can't… what if you get angry…" ...but before a single word could escape, Lauren shot him a sharp, freezing glare.
The look was so cold and ruthless that the words died instantly in his throat.
He shrank back, shoulders curling inward as fresh tears poured down his face. His whole body started shaking harder, the hand still pressed over her heart fluttering with terror.
Lauren's lips curved into a smug, satisfied smirk.
"Good boy," she murmured. "No arguing. No excuses. Just obedience. If you fail to wake me properly at 9 a.m. with your mouth, I'll make sure you regret it for the rest of the week. Clear?"
Ryan nodded so hard his neck hurt, voice cracking into a pathetic whisper. "Y-yes… I'll… I'll use my mouth… at 9 a.m…. I promise… please don't be mad…"
Satisfied, Lauren pulled him down once more, kissing him deeply until he was dizzy and gasping again. When she finally released him, she kept his hand trapped over her heart and closed her eyes, clearly ready to sleep.
Ryan remained half-draped over her, one hand on her chest, tears silently rolling down his cheeks onto her skin. He was exhausted, terrified, and aching from hours of crying and forced touching, but he didn't dare move or close his eyes.
She hadn't given him permission to sleep, and the thought of disappointing her tomorrow morning made his stomach twist with dread.
He stayed there, trembling, softly whimpering every few minutes, feeling her steady heartbeat under his palm while his own heart raced in pure fear.
The clock on the wall ticked past 2 a.m.
Lauren slept peacefully beneath the crying boy she had stolen, completely relaxed.
Ryan, however, remained wide awake, tears falling endlessly, already terrified of what 9 a.m. would bring... when he would have to wake the ruthless Ice Queen with nothing but his inexperienced, trembling mouth.
>>>>>>
Lauren Voss's eyes opened at precisely 9:17 a.m.
The penthouse bedroom was flooded with soft morning light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. She lay on her back, one arm loosely draped across the mattress. Half sprawled over her was Ryan Hale.
His face rested peacefully against her chest, cheek pressed to the thin fabric of her oversized sleep shirt. His eyes were swollen and puffy from hours of silent crying, the skin beneath them dark and tender.
His entire face looked slightly swollen too, the aftermath of an entire night spent weeping without permission to stop. His breathing was slow and deep, the kind of sleep that only comes from total physical and emotional exhaustion.
He had not woken her at 9 a.m. sharp.
He had not used his mouth on hers as ordered.
Instead, the broken boy had apparently convinced himself that attempting to stay awake all night would be safer than risking the sound of an alarm that might disturb her.
Or perhaps he had simply been too terrified to close his eyes at all until his body finally betrayed him somewhere after dawn.
Either way, he had failed.
Lauren stared at him for a long, silent moment. Her expression remained icy, unreadable.
No warmth touched her features.
She lifted one hand and touched his cheek with surprising gentleness, the pad of her thumb brushing over the dried tear tracks. The boy didn't stir.
Then, with deliberate slowness, she rolled them both.
Ryan's limp body was shifted until he lay flat on his back in the center of the massive bed, arms falling uselessly to his sides. The movement disturbed him, but he was so drained that he only mumbled something incoherent and tried to drift off again, eyelids fluttering.
Lauren's lips curved into a cold, dangerous little smile that held no kindness.
She leaned down, pressing a single kiss to the side of his neck, right over the frantic pulse that still beat there even in sleep.
Ryan's heavy eyes snapped open.
For one disoriented second he simply blinked up at the blurred ceiling, vision swimming without his glasses. Then reality crashed back in.
He realized where he was.
He realized whose bed he was in.
He realized what time it was.
And he realized he had not woken her the way she had commanded.
A choked gasp tore from his throat. He sat up so abruptly that his head spun, nearly toppling sideways. His hands flew out to steady himself on the mattress as panic flooded every inch of his fragile body.
"I... I... I'm s-sorry!" The words tumbled out in a frantic, stuttering rush, voice cracking and thick with fresh tears that were already welling up.
"I d-didn't mean to... I swear I didn't... I thought... I was going to stay awake, I really was, but I... I must have... Oh God, I'm so sorry, please..."
His puffy eyes were wide with raw horror, the kind of terror that only someone who had been beaten nightly for years could produce.
Tears spilled over immediately, sliding down his flushed cheeks in hot, silent streams. His lower lip trembled violently as he kept babbling, words stumbling over one another.
"I didn't set an alarm because... because I was scared it might wake you up and make you angry and I... I didn't know what to do and I thought if I just stayed awake until nine I could... but I... I fell asleep and I... I failed you, I'm so, so sorry, please don't... please don't hurt me, I'll do anything, I swear, just please..."
Ryan's entire frame was shaking now, shoulders hunched inward as if trying to make himself smaller, less noticeable, less deserving of punishment. His hands clutched at the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Without his glasses the world was a hazy smear of light and shadow, making everything feel even more terrifying and out of control. He kept apologizing in a broken loop, voice growing softer and more desperate with every repetition.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… I didn't mean to disappoint you… please forgive me… I know I'm useless… I know I'm pathetic… I'm sorry…"
Lauren remained perfectly still, watching him with that same cold, calculating stare. She let him stammer and cry for several long seconds, letting the panic build until his breathing came in short, hiccupping sobs.
Only then did she speak, her voice low, smooth, and utterly merciless.
"Quiet."
The single word cut through his frantic apologies like a blade. Ryan's mouth snapped shut instantly, though the tears continued pouring down his face. His chest heaved with the effort of swallowing the next sob.
Lauren sat up slowly, the movement graceful and predatory. She reached out, fingers closing around his chin with firm, unyielding pressure, forcing his tear-streaked face up so he had no choice but to look in her general direction even if he couldn't see her clearly.
"You were given one simple order, Ryan," she said, tone ice-cold and dripping with disdain. "Nine o'clock sharp. Mouth on mine. No alarm. And yet here we are at 9:17 and you're still asleep like some exhausted little pet who couldn't even manage that."
A fresh wave of shame crashed over him. His shoulders jerked with a silent sob, more tears leaking from his swollen eyes.
"I... I know… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
She didn't raise her voice. She didn't need to. The quiet, controlled ruthlessness in every syllable was far more terrifying.
"Do you understand what happens when people disappoint me, little boy?" she continued, thumb pressing harder into his chin.
"They lose things. Fingers. Hands. Sometimes more interesting parts. And you… you're already so very fragile. So very breakable."
Ryan whimpered, the sound small and pitiful, his whole body trembling so hard the bed shook faintly beneath him.
"Please… please, I'll never do it again… I'll stay awake for days if you want… just please don't... don't punish me… I can't... I'm not strong enough…"
Lauren studied his devastated, puffy face for another long moment, letting his fear marinate. Then she released his chin and leaned back against the headboard, watching him with predatory calm.
"Strip," she ordered flatly. "Everything off. Then get on your knees beside the bed and wait. You're going to spend the next hour making it up to me. And if you cry too loudly or apologize one more time without permission, I'll give you a real reason to sob."
Ryan's breath hitched in terror. Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks as his shaking hands moved to obey, already reaching for the hem of the beige t-shirt she had dressed him in last night.
His voice came out as the barest, broken whisper:
"Y-yes… ma'am…"