He said something similar our first night together, and the glint of pride in his eyes reveals that he remembers it too.
He lowers himself between my legs, and his lips surf over my heated flesh, inch by glorious inch. Toes. Ankle. Knee. Thigh.“Please, Tess.” Hip. “Let me have all of you.” Stomach. “I’ll be a good boy.” He smiles against my lower abdomen, his breath fanning my sweltering core. “Such a good boy for you.”
How the hell does this man always know precisely what I need? He melded a bondage fantasy I never shared with my thirst for control. And everygood boyout of his mouth only makes me wetter.
“I like it when you beg,” I whisper.
“I knew you would, Nightmare.” He lifts his chin and winks, and a vibration jolts to life in my ass.
“What is … oh my … oh,” I stutter as a chill skitters over me.
His fingertips dig into my hips, undoubtedly marking me, and his lips tickle my lower abs as he gloats. “Thought you’d like that too, baby.”
He must have the remote on the floor. I didn’t pay much attention to that since I was busy being fastened to my throne.
The juddering sensation reverberates through me. Spine. Ribs. Core. Clit. My will to torture him wanes. Every nerve ending fires, igniting each cell with greed. The image of us from the reflective glass is obliterating. I’m wanton and hungry, dripping with desire. And he’s bowed before me, eager to please.
All I want is for him to stop messing around and use his tongue to ease the throbbing ache between my legs. He knew I’d never be able to fight this. His wickedness is unmatched.
Intoxicating.
As if he were privy to my thoughts, he chuckles between sucks on my inner thigh, the sardonic humor blasting out of him and cascading over my needy pussy to lure me further into his trap.
“Ready to let meworship you?” He bites into the sensitive skin close to my center, delivering a titillating sting.
“Yes,” is all I manage. Airy and feral.
He doesn’t hesitate. He smacks my clit, provoking a whimper to tumble from my lungs, but in a flash, his tongue is a soothing caress.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Like that. Right there.”
He plunges two fingers into me, and the sloshing sound of my arousal sails through the room. The fullness and the vibrations and his tongue—all of it is too much and not enough.
“Your taste is so damn addictive. Pixy Stix and terror. A sweet royal nightmare.” His teeth scrape along my clit with a grin before he flicks it and goads me into a climax. “Told you I’d be your good boy.”
Lick. Swirl. Pump. Nip.
“You are,” I agree, drunk on the visual of us in the glass and every touch. Pressure mounts low in my belly, and a sheen of sweat lines my pores. “I’m so close. Make me come, Mad.”
His mouth and fingers and effusive growls are everywhere, blending with the seductive playlist and enhancing every brush so that each one penetrates my veins and muscles and bones. My eyes water, and my limbs quake within the bindings. I spin and soar and unravel.
A rumbling moan pours from me as I pulsate around his fingers and tip over a rapturous cliff, flying into ecstasy. He keeps devouring me for the entire flight. A tremble scampers through me, goose bumps erupting as I stifle the scream announcing my peak. His tongue never forgoes his serving-the-monarch mission, whirling my too-sensitive clit so twitchy zaps of overwhelming pleasure shower over me.
Even through the floating-down haze, all I can think about is that I want my fingers in his hair. And my legs wrapped around his waist. And his cock deep inside me.
“Untie me, Maddox. I need you inside me. Now.”
“You’re willing to give up control for my cum, baby?”
“Please,” I plead.
In a heady blink, I’m unbound and cradled and tossed onto the bed with my hauntingly beautiful madman hovering over me. He folds me in half, my legs slung over his shoulders as he glides his steel length inside me. My ass is still full of the vibrating plug, so his piercings and substantial girth require a stretch that sends a quiver romping up my spine.
I lock my ankles and squeeze my thighs, forcing him deeper. “Rough, Drac. I can take it.”
“That’s my girl. Of course you can.” He gathers my wrists in one of his hands, holding them to the bed, above my head, while his other hand squeezes my throat, and he pounds into me. “I might be your good boy when I’m on my knees, eating that delectable pussy. But you are always my perfect slut, my good girl, my queen.” He smacks the side of my breast, issuing another exquisite sensation with his declaration. “My beautiful Nightmare. Fucking mine.”
And the heart of the nickname clicks. Everything he tried to run from, but couldn’t.
