“Last chance, Daphne. Tell me you will stop making these stupid decisions, and I will consider going easy on you.”
“I could, but I have a strict policy against lying. It’s bad for the soul.”
He sighs as he wraps the white fabric around my wrists, binding them together. He yanks and ties the other end of the fabric to the bed frame. I think I should thank him for this.Without hands, I will cause fewer catastrophes. He’s really doing me a favor. He should tie me up to his bed all the time. Or one of the other knights’ beds. I could rotate.
“If you can’t stop thinking, at least voice your thoughts,” he demands before grabbing a pillow and gently guiding it under my head. He circles the bed, grabs my booted ankles, and pulls them apart so the cool air kisses my core. “Do I need to restrain these? Or can you keep your thighs open for me?”
“I’ll keep them like this,” I promise. My heart thunders, and the whooshing of my blood roars in my ears as his gaze trails over every bare inch of skin.Boom, boom, boom.“Please touch me.”
He pulls off his boots and undoes the cord of his breeches, but keeps them on. That is unfair. He crawls over me until his arms cage me in and his face hovers above mine.
He’s still not touching me. My legs wrap around his waist, and I tug him closer. He hisses as the evidence of his desire meets my core.
“Why are you torturing us both?” I grumble. There has to be a special name for a person who enjoys both giving and receiving pain. It’s the opposite of whatever I am. I’m all about the pleasure.
He chuckles. “Good to know. But in the right hands, my hands, I can walk you on the edge of both.”
I huff. “I’m hearing lots of promis?—”
He dips his head and wraps his mouth around my nipple, sucking so hard my spine arches, and a shout tears from my throat. The pressure doesn’t let up; no, somehow he intensifies it until I’m panting and squirming beneath him. Every single pull tugs at something lower in my belly, but I need more. His gaze flashes gold as he holds my breast hostage in his mouth. His hands find my legs, and he unravels them from around his waist to pin them open on the bed, never once relenting in the assaulton my nipple. My hands twist in their restraints, desperate for the freedom to touch and ravage the man intent on ruining me. There’s an insistent, aching carnal throb between my legs, a clenching for something primal.
His teeth grip my flesh and pain flares to life, shooting through every nerve in my body and stealing my words. He releases my nipple with a pop and meets my eyes. “We are just getting started, Daphne. I have all night to make sure this lesson sticks.”
A smudge of blood lines his lips. My eyes dart down, finding a tiny trickle of crimson tracing my pale flesh.
“You are intoxicating, like the sweetest poison,” he mutters before flashing me his teeth. His pointy ones are a little longer, a little sharper than I’ve noticed before. Did they change, or have I just not noticed?
I lose my thoughts the second he trails his lips between the valley of my breasts, nipping lightly at my hips and belly before finally settling between my legs. With my head angled on the pillow, I’m not missing a single thing.
His hot breath skates over my flesh, causing me to cry out again. Suddenly, the door bangs open, and Hart stalks into the room. He slams it closed and folds his arms as he leans against it.
“I said no witnesses,” I whisper.
Hart raises an eyebrow. “Pretend I’m not here, Calamity.”
Nash, unperturbed by our visitor, snakes his tongue out and flicks it over that tiny bundle of swollen and throbbing nerves that begs for his attention. I twist my hands, loosening the bindings. When I get free, I’m going to flip Nash over and drive him freaking crazy.
“Get her hands,” Nash growls. “She’s about to be free.”
My body freezes. How does he know?
Hart strides over, still wearing his arrogance like a second skin, but beneath it is a hunger. One born of full moons, shadowy rooms, and whispered pleas. He slides his ass onto the bed next to me and curls one of his hands around my wrists, keeping them prisoner.
“Why are you here?”
He shakes his head before surprising me by leaning down to drop a hard kiss on my lips.
“Take your eyes off me and this all stops, Daphne,” Nash drawls.
I break our kiss to glare at Nash and his beautifully arrogant face. “I’m looking,” I snap. “But you aren’t doing anything. Unless the previous time was a fluke, and the reason Hart is here is to help you find my orgasm.”
Hart huffs a laugh. “Playing with fire,” he mumbles as his thumb draws lazy circles on my wrist.
Nash growls low before sliding his tongue down and inside of me. My breath stalls, and I curse the Idols for not giving me the feminine knowledge to find this kind of pleasure before now. Then again, the only man I previously let near my floof was Hansel, and after that unnoteworthy experience, I chalked sex up to be something men desired and women tolerated. Given I wasn’t tolerating a man, I didn’t need to tolerate sex.
Nash alternates between ruthlessly thrusting his tongue inside me, much like I would imagine he does with his cock, and sucking on that swelling bud that makes me see stars.
I squirm beneath him as he doesn’t stick to a rhythm. Every time I think I’m about to tip over, he pulls back or changes what he is doing.
