All the uncertainty fled Holden’s face. “God, I love you.”
He pinned Kit to the mattress.
28
enemies, neutral parties, and his
A cuff locked around Kit’s wrist like an extension of Holden’s grasp. Natural. Right. Kit twisted his arm, savoring the comfortable tension. The pressure of Holden’s weight and gaze.
The binding steel of the wordlove, twisting like barbed wire.
“Scoot up,” Holden said, intent on the logistics even as Kit sank into pure sensation.
Damp skin pulled the sheets askew. Kit shoved the pillow aside and lay down again, closer to the headboard. Perfectly placed for Holden to loop the chain around the bar, then secure the second cuff.
Holden sat back, clearly admiring his handiwork. Admiring Kit. A droplet of water raced down the side of his face.
“That’s good,” Kit breathed. “Do my ankles now.”
He couldn’t beg for love, but he could demand more chains, and wasn’t that the same thing, in the end?
“I can’t tie them to the footboard,” Holden warned, taking hold of Kit’s ankle. “The chains aren’t long enough for me to fuck you like that. Is chaining them together good enough?”
Kit’s cock jumped in response to each leisurely caress. Fuck, he didn’t know his feet were so sensitive. “Y-yeah. That’s. Fine.”
“Excellent,” Holden said, eyes narrowing with his grin. He didn’t waste any more time securing Kit’s legs.
Without being secured to the footboard, the chain was loose. It rattled with every movement, and the weight was so deliciously obvious.
Holden scrambled for a bottle Kit didn’t even remember falling to the bed. Liquid gleamed on his fingers. “Would you spread your legs for me, darling?” Holden asked politely, kneeling between Kit’s knees.
“Like this?” Kit asked, his entire body humming with anticipation. Propping his knees up dragged the ankle chain over Holden’s calves.
Holden’s hand dropped from Kit’s field of vision. “Perfect.”
The next slick touch drew a needy whimper from Kit. One moment of teasing pressure, painting cool wetness into every crevice of Kit’s pucker. One tremble, beginning with Holden or Kit or both. Then Holden slid two long, insistent fingers inside.
Kit moaned, arching into the sudden intrusion. Nerves fired off, surprised to get exactly what they craved. No more teasing—Holden pumped Kit’s hole roughly.
“God, you’re pretty like this,” Holden said, voice ragged with wonder. “Just getting you nice and wet. Do you want more stretching? Or should I loosen you up on my cock?”
The words burrowed so deep inside Kit, he saw stars. He wanted to feel everything. “Cock. Please.”
“So polite,” Holden praised, and pressed a messy kiss to Kit’s collar bone.
Kit’s body clenched around Holden’s fingers as they withdrew. The emptiness was an exquisite ache. Kit hiked his legs up eagerly with Holden’s push. His ankles hooked aroundHolden’s hips, the chain dangling around them. Binding Holden to him, too.
Holden’s cockhead notched against Kit’s hole. Anticipation soared to dizzying heights until one hard thrust dragged Kit back to earth. Blissful, physical reality. Kit jerked involuntarily against the cuffs. The steel was as unrelenting as Holden’s cock driving into him.
“Yes,” Kit breathed, clinging. “Yes, like this.”
Holden panted, braced over him. Droplets of water fell from his hair, splashing over Kit’s chest. “I’m yours. You know that, right?”
Kit shuddered with how good those words felt. Yes. Holden belonged to him. The chains might be on Kit’s limbs, but Holden was the one who would come running when Kit tugged the metaphorical leash. No, Kit didn’t have to lift a finger. Their singular possessiveness went both ways.
“I love you, too,” Kit promised.
With a growl, Holden moved. Short, quick thrusts, keeping as much of him inside Kit as possible at every moment. Kit strained against his bindings, hands curling into fists.
