“Please,” she whispers as her pink tongue—hot, wet, aggressive—runs along the length and her lips close around the digit. “Please don’t make me wait anymore.”
Fuck.
I reach down and unzip my pants, finally freeing myself. My cock springs forward and Bella releases my thumb to look at it. And then, before I can say a damn thing, she closes the gap and takes me deep down her throat like she’s wanted this the whole time.
When her head starts to move, it fucking drives all the air out of my lungs. She sets a relentless pace. Wet obscene noises bubble up in her throat with each deep bob. Drool leaks from the corners of her mouth, falls down her chin, and soaks into the dark soil under the stars.
My body responds because I’m not made of stone, but my mind isn’t in the pleasure. My mind is onher. Her confession is still echoing in my head. And the way she saidpunish mesounds like a prayer that only she knows.
Her tongue swirls around my sensitive head for a moment, and I grip a fistful of her hair to hold myself steady. But the pressure sends her head shooting forward again and she swallows me to the hilt.
When she pulls back, her lips are swollen, her breath ragged, and she looks up at me with those dark eyes that have been dismantling me since the first moment she ever glared at me.
“You call thathurtingme?”
Blyad…Somehow, even though she’s the one onherknees, I’m the one being commanded.
“Tell me exactly what you want,malyshka.”
If I’m going to hurt her, she has to define the terms. She has to set the rules. And I will not give her something she didn’t explicitly choose.
“I told you. Make me scream. Make me yours. Take everything you want from me until there’s nothing left of me that can ever belong to anyone else.” Her voice is steady despite the panting. “Otherwise, it won’t feel real.”
“You want me to take everything from you?” My hand tightens around her throat, and her eyes start rolling into the back of her head. “You want me to make you scream? You want it to feel real?”
“Yes,” she strains. “Choke me. Slap me. Pull my hair. Treat me like a slut. Use me like a whore. Whatever you want to do, just fuckinghurtme and make me lose control.”
She’s asking for more than pain. She’s asking for total annihilation.
And she’s right. Pain she can control isn’t pain at all. It’s performance. She needs it to be real.
“And isn’t this what you’ve wanted in the first place?”
The question is a challenge wrapped in permission. She’s reminding me of every moment of desire, every hate-fuck fantasy, and every time even the lightest of touches make me want to push her against a wall.
I reach up and undo my tie.
The silk slides free from my collar, and her pupils expand under the starlight at the gesture. Then, I wrap it around her eyes, and tie it at the back of her head. When I cinch it close, she gasps quietly.
“Are you ready?” I ask, my fingers lingering at her temples.
“Yes.”
My fingers slip under the collar of her cardigan. They tighten around the soft material slightly, and then, I rip it open with a single hard pull to expose the pale curve of her shoulders.
Bella gasps as the humid air kisses her body. My hands continue to strip her, one layer at a time. Then her bra goes. Then her skirt turns into shredded ribbons. And finally, her underwear as well.
She’s still on her hands and knees in front of me. But she’s naked under the warm summer night, exposed to the air, to the darkness, and to me. My cock throbs and juts just inches from her mouth, and her lips open and close as if she can beg me inside.
Under the starlight, I can see the goosebumps rising, and she’s shivering despite the heat.
I take her wrists, press them together at the small of her back, and use the ruined cardigan to bind her hands. Then I guide her ankles together, bind those with the skirt, and connect the two restraints.
She cannot move. She cannot see. She cannot cover herself.
“Do your fucking worst,” she breathes.
I slap her—light but insistent—to test her boundaries.
