And vulnerability stains every inch of him as vibrantly as the ink on his skin.
“I wasn’t looking.” He drags his knuckles down my cheek. “That’s why it took me so long to make you mine. You were right there—this gorgeous doll I was infatuated with—but I had myself shut off. I avoided you because I think I knew if I ever broke down your walls, if I ever got to be the person who knew what hid behind your sharp tongue and quick wit, it wouldn’t be a fleeting thing. And that terrified me. You’re everything I was afraid to want, but couldn’t escape. We were inevitable, Tess. You’re my home.”
My throat feels raw from his confession. “You don’t get to say things like that in the same breath that you inform me I am essentially owned by you.”
He clasps my throat, a tatted hand necklace of impassioned caution. “I’ll say what I fucking want because it’s true. I’ll tell you, you’re everything, that you make me crazy, that I can’t fucking breathe without you for the rest of our goddamn lives because you own me too.”
I own him too.
My heart explodes in my chest.
I glance past him, at the throne again, noticing the outline of either the king or queen of spades embedded into the indigo velvet and another detail. “It has constraints on it, Drac.”
“Yeah.” He winks and smiles. It’s crooked and haughty, and it loosens the tightness in my chest. “Designed for us, baby. Thought it was a good example of being Noire royalty.”
“Being bound to a pretty chair?” Trailing my fingers over his pecs to his abs, I curl my hand around his shaft, firm pressure without moving. “Is it for you or me to be strapped to?”
“Either.” He thrusts his hips into my hand and grants me a smirk when I squeeze tighter, a glutton for teasing. “We both have a seat in this empire. There are perks to holding it, unbelievable perks that can be life changing and”—he shoves my tube top with a built-in bra down to my waist, palms my breast,and his mouth descends upon my nipple, jostling the bar to elicit a moan from me and emphasize his point—“otherworldly. But there are also drawbacks, things that might make you feel constrained.”
He walks me backward until my knees hit the bed and we topple onto it, my hand still secure on his dick, provoking him to growl and pump into me on instinct. Still, he keeps his train of thought.
“When you’re in that chair, bound to the position, I’ll spoil you”—he rips off my tube top, shorts, and panties, tossing them aside before swirling my clit—“worship you, serve you, take care of you, put your needs ahead of anyone else’s, including my own. It will be a challenge, but worth it.”
I’m cocooned in a euphoric haze, but I think about his point, not hating the idea yet unwilling to throw the white flag. “And you get tied to the throne too?”
“I’ve been tied to a throne since I was fourteen and inherited all of this. Maybe before then. Since birth.” He hovers above me, finally brushing his lips against mine, a featherlight touch that vanishes in an instant, making me ache. His own brand of teasing. “If you want the visual representation of that, I’ll gladly let you bind me to it. I’ll order you to crawl to me, issue my demands, and you can make me feel good.”
He thrusts two fingers inside me, grinning victoriously when I buck into him with a throaty groan. “But it would mean you don’t get touched. Shame when your pussy is weeping all over my hand.”
When my brows furrow, he elaborates. “The one in the chair dictates. Tied down but commanding. If I’m in that seat, I’ll only be using your mouth.”
God, he plays dirty.
TESSA
Ihum in consideration, shifting my attention between the Adonis before me and the prop representing his godlike status. The vision of power he’s suggesting sounds more equivalent than I envisioned. I’m not sure he’d survive telling me to crawl. Then again, arousal coats my thighs from the mental image. Another war.
He reads my inner conflict, stretches toward the bedside table, retrieves a few things from the drawer, and then he planks over me. His lips tickle my earlobe, his scruff grazing my cheek. “You got on your knees for me last night and let me paint your pretty tits with my cum. I understood what that meant to you.” He waits for my eyes to latch to his. “It meant everything to me.”
In those wintry gems, there are glimmers of blue flames and white specks of hope. I’ve heard people talk about how unsettling they are, the contrast of the sparkling silver to his onyx locks. There are employees who avoid direct eye contact, even though he’s fun. And members who fear him, despite being corrupt and dangerous in their own right. I never agreed. Evenwhen I hated him, his eyes felt like a lighthouse in a storm. It pissed me off.
And now? All I see is that little boy who wanted his mom to think he was doing a cool trick and a man who needs me to tell him he’s all I want.
“It did mean something to me, Maddox. I’m mixed up, angry, but not … not about you.” My eyes burn with tears I’ve held at bay for years. “About all of this. About so many things.”
“I know.” He pulls my ponytail out, massaging my scalp. “Things are hard right now. They might be hard for a while. Let me carry it all for you, Tess. Let me take care of you. It would be my honor to serve my queen.”
His queen.
The veneer I’ve plastered on for as long as I can remember fractures. I’m not sure what’s happening to me, what’s setting it off. If it’s being shot at or being told I don’t have a choice. My family finally giving up on me or the touch of the man who refuses to.
“I can be that for you. Your safe place. Your armor. You can break with me.”
Choking back the overwhelm threatening to wreck this sexy encounter, I focus on what we’re doing here. “So, you fasten me to my throne and then what?”
“You can let me have my way with you. Or you can torture me and not allow me to touch you. Withholding, like you are now by fisting my dick and not moving.” He waggles his brows. “Make me beg. Whatever feels good, baby girl.”
I roll my head to see what he grabbed from the drawer, stroking his cock once for encouragement. “What else?”
