No, worse. A disease I don’t want cured.
It’s almost sadistic, how much I want her. Like fate dropped her in front of me just to see how far I’d go before I snapped.
But the way she’s beginning to obey, beginning to understand the way this is going to work, it’s too perfect.
She’s mine to command. To mold. To bend until her mind breaks and the only thing she begs for isme.
When I kick free of my pants and shoes and my cock springs loose, she wraps her small fist around it, her fingers unable to circle me completely. The crown pulses hard under her touch, a raw throb of need, and when her thumb skims the king’s crown piercing, a curse breaks from my chest. Her tongue flicks out, tracing the metal, circling the swollen head in slow, wet drags that make my vision go black at the edges.
“Blyat…” The word snarls out of me as my hand clamps on the back of her head. “Take it all.”
I need that tightness. Need to feel her throat stretch around me until she forgets how to breathe.
She parts her lips and slides down over me, eyes glued to mine, and my body answers with a violent shudder I can’t stop. I don’t even try.
Clutching her hair, I push her deeper, driving her down until her gag vibrates around me. The sound is perfect, and I hold her there, my cock pressed to the back of her throat, watching her struggle to take it.
“That’s it, detka,” I growl. “Swallow every inch. Choke on it.”
Her eyes water, mascara running in dark streaks down her cheeks, and the sight only fuels the hunger tearing through me. She keeps going, taking me deeper, bobbing her head, tongue flicking over the metal at the tip while her other hand toys with the pubic piercing.
The thought of her doing this for another man makes my vision go white.
Jealousy is not something I’ve ever felt before, not over any woman. Yet with her, it hits like a knife under the ribs.
Why her? This is the last thing I need. I want to rip her out of my goddamn subconscious.
The harder she takes me, the tighter her lips seal, her muffled moans vibrating around my cock until I’m fighting not to spill down her throat. Her gaze hooks mine, tongue sliding out to circle the skin around the head.
“Nu blyat…tvoy rot…”Fuck…that mouth…
The fire in her eyes flares hotter at the words, her grip tightening, sucking me harder like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. Too good at it. Too proud of it.
Another curse rips out of me as I tug on her hair and drag her off, my cock sliding from her lips, slick and throbbing.
My jaw locks, every muscle straining to hold back because I refuse to finish anywhere but inside her. Where she will feel it, remember it, know who filled her.
I drag her up by the leash and rise to my feet, walking her toward the bondage table like the filthy little prize she is. I flip her over, chest pressed to the leather, her elbows bent beneath her, ass in the air.
“How many men have had that mouth?” I give the leash a sharp tug.
She laughs—that same taunting, reckless laugh she’s given me before. “Too many.”
Rage floods me like venom. I grab the cuffs and shackle her wrists, locking them down, then her ankles, securing her wide to the table.
“You think that is funny?” My hand knots in her hair and yanks her head back, making her gasp. “We’ll see who’s laughing soon.”
“What does that mean?” she pants, teeth sinking into her bottom lip, that maddening mix of anticipation and defiance twisting through her features.
A low, feral chuckle escapes me as I walk to the table across the room, grabbing a crop. But not just any crop. This one’s fitted with an electromagnetic charge I have been meaning to try.
What a perfect little canvas to test on.
I stalk back toward her, dragging the crop up the curve of her ass and watching her shiver. “If you don’t like it, tell me and I stop. Understand?”
She nods for only a second before I strike. A clean, snapping blow across one cheek. She flinches, but doesn’t make a sound.
That won’t last.
