“On your knees,” he says.
I slowly sink to the floor, thankful the belt has enough slack to allow me to do so without choking. Keeping my head bowed is both smart and dangerous. It could be best to let him think I’m submitting to him, which I am but only physically. Or it could be dangerous if he sees that as me avoiding him. Which I’m also doing.
His steps are barely discernible when he circles me in a stalking manner. The belt around my neck rotates, making it very clear what his position is to me. As if I can’t feel him nearby, lighting up my receptors. Then his bare feet enter my line of vision—which is focused on the tiny fibers of carpet—and stop directly in front of me. He yanks on the leather, causing my chin to lift, and I bring it up higher until I’m staring at him.
In this position, I truly feel like he is my master and I’m his mistress.
Mr. and Mrs., in every sense of the words.
“You told me you submit,donnaccia. Yet you refuse to ask that I let you come. I want to know why?”
Maximus is painfully beautiful to look at, especially when he gazes at me, his dark eyes silently demanding my secrets. “I don’t want it, sir.” The truth hangs in the air, denser than fog and heavier than metal. “It’s…” I shake my head and inhale deep. “I wasn’t prepared for this.”
He drops the belt, and the loose end falls to lie between my breasts. Uncertainty is like a second skin to me and has been ever since I opened my eyes to find him idling in my room. Only, it’s worse. If I could just make him tire of me, or want to be rid of me like my father, I’d be free enough to plan my escape. I knew I was somewhat safe from Caruso, since he didn’t readily kill me after the gala, but there is no such guarantee with Maximus.
“What can I do…” My words die on my tongue at the sight of him undoing his pants.
He squints down at me. “What can you do? I think you already know the answer to that.”
Panic kick-starts my heart into full throttle, and it crawls in my throat when he steps out from the last of his clothing. His cock fills my gaze, and I quickly avert it. The medical texts made sex sound simplistic and natural, but that is not the impression I’m getting right now.
I briefly close my eyes as if it’ll remove the image right in front of me, the one now seared in my brain. “If I beg, will you leave me alone?” I whisper.
From my peripheral, I watch Maximus bring his hand to me, and I brace for impact. He surprises me by taking my chin between his thumb and index finger. His grip is tight, and his gaze is sharp, shredding the last bit of courage I have left.
“Have you ever played chess,donnaccia? If you had, you would know you’ve just given me your queen, your greatest asset, leaving you nothing stronger to fight me with.” He smirks at me, and my stomach churns. “It is only a matter of time before you concede, and I say checkmate.”
“My queen, sir?”
He nods. “Yes, you have given me insight as to what you want, which is to be left alone. And that is the one thing I will never offer you, now that I know.”
Defeat streaks through me like the tip of a knife, slicing deep into my soul and leaving it to bleed. How could I have been so stupid to give myself away like that? My body offers a response I don’t want to acknowledge. I’m yearning for his touch just as much as I want him to leave me be.
But until he dismisses me, I will remain here, in the chasm of my own desire where nothing makes sense and everything feels divine.
Maximus lowers his hand from my face and brings it to his cock, curling his long, elegant fingers around the length. He grips it, and the head glistens with a tiny bead of arousal. “You will always be bested by me. It’d be wise for you to realize that here and now, and perhaps I will prolong your life. For a time.” He steps forward, positioning his cock less than a breath away from my mouth, and takes the belt in his unoccupied hand. “Take my cock between your lips, but know you’ll wish you were dead if you decide to injure me.”
I open my mouth, and he’s quick to thrust into it. His groan is nothing like I’ve ever heard, and even when he speaks, his voice is little more than a growl. “Make me come and maybe I’ll leave you in peace tonight.”
My sex dampens, my arousal returning with a vengeance. I close my lips fully around him and suck hesitantly at first, but when he closes his eyes and hangs his head, I become more aggressive. The salty taste of him spreads across my tongue as I swirl it around the tip, alternating that with hard pulls of my mouth. Maximus weaves his hand in my hair and cups the back of my neck to guide my movements. The belt is all but forgotten except for the way his knuckles go pale from the force of his grip on the leather.
I take everything in, starting with the scent of his skin and ending with the taste of him. But I mostly watch his face. It contorts with a pained expression, and his thrusts increase in speed. His groans have my fingers twitching with the need to touch my clit, to ease the ache that’s unbearable at this point. He’s brought me so close to orgasm on several occasions after the first one, and now that I know what’s possible, I want it so badly that I devour his cock for the chance to be alone and see to my needs.
It’s not the only reason. I want to drive him insane with desire. I want to see if I can elicit the same response in him that he brought about from me. And mostly, I want to see that moment, that second of vulnerability cross his face and flood his gaze when he comes.
Because ofme.
A stream of air shooting between his teeth forms a hiss, and then another groan rumbles from his chest that’s dotted with perspiration. The tiny droplets outline the muscles that are hardened from sexual tension, and his biceps are strained from his grip on me and the belt. He lets go of the strap and threads his fingers in my hair, one hand right beside the other to clasp my head and then to cradle it.
Why is he holding me in such a way? It could be to ensure he can readily dislodge me from him should I choose to hurt him, but it doesn’t feel that way. His touch is…light. Definitely full of anticipation fused with agony but not anger or punishment. Does he expect that gentleness from me? And do I want to touch him?
My hand trembles as I reach out and tenderly skim the underside of him.
“Fuck yes,” he rasps.
I cup his sac and massage it in my palm while trying to keep my throat relaxed as he plunges his cock deeper than before. I continue my exploration of him, and he spreads his legs, making it so I can reach him fully. Hesitation worms its way past my desire dripping down my thighs, past his enticing groans, and past my sore jaw. I don’t know what he wants or what’s allowed, so I graze his perineum with my nails and then gently rub the area. His hips thrust forward, and I snatch my hand away.
He blows out a harsh breath. “More.”
