“One more tie. Be patient,volchok.”
I let out a whimper as he kissed my temple, the tenderness at odds with the bite mark throbbing on my shoulder.
He moved back in front of me and began working on my hands, lifting them above my head. He was careful of the small tattoo on my forearm—a pair of yin and yang snakes wrapped around a moon. “I would wrap this if I could, but for now, this will keep you still.” He secured the rope to something above me—the headboard, I realized—and moved out of the way to assess his work.
I squirmed slightly, testing the restraints. Despite being bound, I was comfortable. The rope held me firmly but didn’t bite. My arms were positioned in a way that didn’t strain my shoulders. My legs were free to move.
As always, he’d been careful with me.
He stood beside the bed with a hungry look in his eyes—his gaze like hot trails of desire raking across my skin—as he slowly palmed himself.
I rubbed my thighs together, bucking my hips in wordless plea. “Rowan, don’t leave me waiting.”
He looked down at me with half-lidded eyes, his hand still moving over his length in slow, deliberate strokes. “Oh? Tell me, how badly do you want it?”
Oh god, how the tables have turned.
“Why don’t you taste me again, Rowan?” I opened my legs for him in invitation, relishing how wet I felt—arousal dripping down my thigh onto the bed below me.
I’d always been self-conscious about how wet I got, convinced something was wrong with me. Every partner in this life had commented on it, some with appreciation, others with discomfort. But now? Now I reveled in it. Reveled in knowing I was soaking his expensive sheets with evidence of exactly how much I wanted him.
“Shove your tongue in me, Rowan.” The words poured out uncensored, unfiltered. “Spit on me. Tell me how good I’ve been before you slide your cock into me.”
I couldn’t help how sublime the words felt, how right.
“I want to be spread open and used by you.”
“Fuck, Violet.” His hand moved faster against his cock—thick, flushed dark at the head, a bead of moisture glistening at the tip. “You have got a filthy mouth on you.”
My eyes were glued to his length, cataloging every detail. The prominent vein running along the underside. The way it curved slightly upward. How it bobbed with each breath he took.
I want that inside me. Now.
“The safe word isred,” he said, his voice taking on that commanding edge that made my core clench. “Yellowif you are feeling unsure and I will slow down. I will not risk hurting you, so you had better use them if needed. Do you understand?”
“Okay.” I was aching for him, barely able to form words. “Complaints against my mouth?” I asked, suddenly unsure of myself.
He raised an eyebrow. “I love how filthy you are. Though I might use a ball gag if you keep talking, else I might embarrass myself again.”
I shook my head vigorously, the motion limited by the rope. “Rowan, the fact that you came is the hottest fucking thing ever. I just regret it wasn’t down my throat.”
He let out a pained groan and crawled onto the bed, his thick cock jutting towards me in a way that made me clench with anticipation. “I need you to stop talking, or Iwillfind that gag. Be the good girl you claim to be.”
He positioned himself between my spread legs, his hands sliding up my thighs. He gripped my hips and lifted me, angling my body so that his face was inches from where I desperately wanted his cock inside of me.
My weight was supported entirely by his hands and the rope, the position leaving me completely vulnerable.
He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, a look of pure bliss crossing his features. “Fuck, you smell so fucking delicious. I have not been able to get your scent out of my head since I first saw you at the shower.”
Butterflies erupted in my belly, a swarm of them taking flight. “Really? That long ago?”
His tongue darted out—quick and precise against my clit—and I cried out, the sensation electric.
“Yes, really, Violet.” He punctuated each word with another lick, another stroke, driving me out of my mind. “Everything about you is dangerously fine-tuned for temptation.”
He ran his tongue down my slit in one long, languid stroke that left me shuddering. “Your taste is like a pomegranate from Tartarus. I would eat every morsel willingly, bind myself to your domain for eternity.”
His tongue circled the hood of my clit in maddening patterns, and I felt my orgasm slowly building again, coiling tighter with each pass.
