When I finally pull back, she whimpers, face flushed and hair damp against her cheeks. The Kindle lies at my side, so I retrieve it and press it back into her trembling hands. She meets my eyes, her cheeks still tinged pink, and begins again. Her voice is low, husky, charged with echoes of what she’s already felt.
She describes how the characters are at a hotel and don’t have a rope. So one of the men uses his belt.
The word “belt” catches in her throat, and I feel the pulse in my groin thicken. I scan the room: no rope, but my belt’s buckle glints at me from my waist. In one swift motion, I free it, the leather hissing through the loops. Her eyes part on a sharp inhale.
“Lucian—” she breathes my name as she nods.
“Shh,” I murmur, folding the belt in half so it snaps satisfyingly. “Keep reading. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Her lashes flutter, but she steadies herself. She describes how he binds her wrists behind her head.
I don’t wait for her to finish. I loop the belt around her slender wrists, cinching it just enough to secure her arms above her pillow. She tests the restraint once, twice, and the leather holds. Perfect.
Her chest rises in quick, shallow breaths. Eyes wide, lips parted. “Lucian… how am I supposed to read to you what happens next?”
She tugs at the soft leather, not resisting but craving the sensation. Her stolen shirt clings to her curves. I brush stray hair from her forehead, leaning close enough that she can feel my pulse at her temple.
“How are you supposed to read?” I echo her question with a grin that’s equal parts amusement and dark promise. I trail my knuckles down her ribcage, her skin soft as silk, until she shivers like a leaf in a storm. “I guess you can’t. I’ll just have to get… creative.”
Her lips part, a protest hovering like a hummingbird at the edge of a bloom, but I bend and take one of her nipples into my mouth, the thin cotton of her shirt no barrier to the heat of my tongue. The sound that escapes her throat is a symphony of need, a raw, primal melody that tells me everything I need to know.
“I wanted to follow the book,” I murmur against her skin, my voice a low rumble like distant thunder. My free hand trails lower, tracing the curve of her hip, the length of her thigh, before slipping between her legs. “But you’re tempting me too much, and I’m starting to lose control. I need to be inside you.”
Her head tips back, breathless, the pulse at her neck flutters. “Please—”
“That’s what I thought.”
I grab the neck of my shirt, the fabric rough and worn from years of use, and pull it off in one swift motion, the way I know she likes. She confirms it with a groan, so primal that I feel it in my cock. I place the shirt over her eyes, the fabric dark and dense, completely cutting off her sight. She stiffens, her body taut as a bowstring, but the second my hand closes over her hip, grounding her, she exhales. Relaxes. Trusts me.
“You’re not fragile,” I murmur as I slip two fingers inside her, her heat enveloping me like a brand. My other hand presses against her bound wrists, her pulse a rapid flutter beneath my palm. “You’re strong enough to let go. Let me show you.”
Her back arches, her body a taut, trembling offering, and I curl my fingers, dragging a cry from her that makes my cock throb with need. “Yes, please—you’re gonna make me—”
“That’s the point.” I keep my rhythm steady, relentless, my mouth working over her breast, her skin hot and damp against my tongue. She writhes blind and bound beneath me, her body a landscape of need and desire.
Her whole body jerks when I curl my fingers deeper, grinding against that spot that makes her come undone every time. Her thighs tremble against my shoulders, her muscles taut and quivering, and she’s gasping like she can’t breathe, like she’s drowning in sensation.
“That’s it,” I growl, making my way down her body again, my mouth making a hot, hungry trail against her skin. I drag my mouth down to her clit, her scent enveloping me, intoxicating me. My tongue circles her slowly before I seal my lips around her and suck hard, her taste exploding in my mouth like a ripe fruit.
She screams, a primal sound that echoes through the room, her body convulsing beneath me. Her wrists tug helplessly at the belt above her head, her body arching up off the couch like she’s trying to escape me, but there’s nowhere for her to go. Not when I’m holding her open with one arm braced across her stomach, my fingers buried deep inside her, and my mouth devouring her like she’s the only thing that’s ever mattered.
Her release slams into her, as her thighs clamp around my head, and her body is a vice of need and desire. But I don’t stop, I don’t even slow down. I feast on her, my fingers relentless, fucking her through the aftershocks until she’s trembling so hard the mattress shakes beneath us.
“Lucian—I can’t—”
“You can. You will.” My words are muffled against her, my voice a low growl, a promise.
She sobs, another climax tearing through her so fast it feels like she never came down from the last. Her voice breaks on my name, raw and desperate, and it makes me harder than I’ve ever been in my life. By the third orgasm, she’s incoherent, babblingpleas I don’t even register. Her chest heaves, her breath coming in ragged gasps, sweat dampening her hair, her body slick and gleaming. Still, I don’t stop, not until she bucks so wildly I have to pin her hips down, my hands rough and demanding on her heated flesh.
When I finally lift my head, my chin is slick with her, her taste a hot, sweet brand on my tongue. My cock is straining against my jeans, the rough fabric a harsh contrast to the silk of her skin. I crawl up her body, my movements predatory, my breath hot against her ear. “Do you think you’re ready for me?”
Her blindfolded head nods, tears sliding free, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “Yes, Lucian… please…”
“If you want me to stop, I’ll stop,” I taunt, my voice a low growl, a challenge. I grind my cock against her soaked core through the thin barrier of my pants, the friction a sweet, torturous agony.
She whimpers, shaking her head as she trembles beneath me, but her hips lift, offering herself like the perfect gift she is. I shove my sweats down, free my cock, and line up with her dripping entrance. “Open for me.”
And when I thrust in, in one single motion, her body grips me like a fist. I swear the room tilts when I bottom out, her heat enveloping me, her body a sweet, torturous haven.
