I urge him to slide against my soaked skin by grinding my hips. Though he never pushes inside, the blunt head of his dick brushes my clit again and again, and I nearly lose it.
His hungry growl tethers me to him harder than the rope.
Eventually, when he draws back, my body tenses in anticipation.
The tip of him lines up to my sex, his wetness mixing with mine.
It’s that tease, that light touch, that has me whimpering. Breathless. So goddamn needy.
“Trouble, look at you.” He pulls on the rope, doing it with care. He’s devoted, even when he’s demanding to have all of me. “Drenched. God,”—crack—“your pussy is sucking me in. You’ve been waiting for me. Your whole fucking life.”
“I have.” My spit soaks the gag. My chin.
The rope bites into my throat as Knox gives another tug, harder this time. The pull steals my breath, but not my entire air supply. No black spots edge into my vision.
No dizzy haze pulling me under. My lungs seize, and my skin prickles.
He isn’t choking me; he’s controlling me. Keeping me in the present moment, wide awake. With him.
And I am here. I can’t run from him, from his hand cracking against my ass, the squeeze that follows.
The pain he delivers doesn’t make me recoil or hate him. It’s not the bad kind. Can’t be, when it transforms, turning into pleasure so overwhelming I can hardly breathe.
“So needy.” He pushes his cock just an inch inside me, and I whimper.
Despite how good it feels, the pressure is brutal. I’ve never been stretched like this. Never been filled in a way that feels so violent and yet so right.
My throat tightens, the urge to beg, to cry out, it’s swelling there. But since I’m drowning in need, no sound comes out.
“Bad girl. Too quiet.” As a punishment, this cruel man pulls out of me. “I thought you wanted it.”
“I do!” My thighs clench on air. “Please.”
“You don’t. But don’t worry, I’ll make you.”Crack, and goddammit, my ass hurts worse this time. “You will”—the head of his cock parts my lips again, and I let out a relieved sob—“want me.”
He growls and then drives into me in one brutal thrust. My body jerks, the air torn from my lungs in a ragged cry.
The spankings, the gagging, none of it comes close to this.
This blinding, tearing stretch almost swallows my thoughts whole.
“Get out!” My sobs break around the gag, raw and helpless. “Knox. Get out.”
No answer. He just lingers there, buried to the hilt. His grip on my hip is an iron shackle, holding me impaled.
Daring me to fight him.
In a desperate attempt to escape this pain, I put one hand forward. The next. The rope tightens around my neck, but my urge to get away is stronger than my will to breathe.
“Fuck, Trouble, hold that sweet little pussy right where it is.” Yanking me back by my hip, he impales me on him again.
I whimper while he hums, pretending I hate it as he grinds his hips without pulling out of me.
Lies. Knox knows how much I want him, leaning forward, shoving himself deeper while palming my pussy.
He’s being less gentle now, his cock branding me from the inside, a merciless savage that claims his ownership of me.
The only thing that isn’t harsh about him is how he holds the rope. It’s slack enough to keep me breathing, tight enough to remind me who owns me.
