The first brush of him against her lips pulled a small, involuntary sound from her. Her tongue darted out to taste, to ease the path, and he made a low noise that sounded disturbingly like a groan. “That’s it,” he said. “Just like that.” The praise, crude as it was, warmed her chest.
Then he pushed deeper. Her jaw stretched around him. She managed to relax, remembering what had worked before, breathing through her nose, letting her throat open. But Gage wasn’t Harry, with his teasing patience, or Bennett, with his careful gentleness. He was Gage: muscular, driven, a man who lived his life at the sharp end of things. He set a rhythm she barely had time to adjust to, hips rolling forward, withdrawing, then pressing deeper. The back of the chair dug into her spine; the rope scraped her wrists when she instinctively tried to lift her hands and couldn’t.
She gagged once when he hit too deep. He slowed and pulled back. “Do you want to say falcon?” he asked, loosening his grip.
“No,” she replied, opening her mouth again.
He smiled and his hand tightened in her hair. “Breathe,” he said, voice rough. “You can take it. I know you can.” She blinked up at him, eyes wet. She felt thrilled at the way his face had gone soft and fierce all at once when he’d saidI know you can.
His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth. “Look at you,” he said, something like awe threaded through the heat. “Most beautiful sight I’ve seen in years.” The words hit her, arousal building. No one had ever told her that her openness, her surrender, could be beautiful.
He thrust again, and she choked around him, but the burn in her jaw blurred with a throbbing heat between her legs. She thought of how exposed she was, how the cool air kissed her damp skin, how the rope bit, how utterly she belonged to this moment and this man’s choice. “Look at you taking it deep,” he praised as he shoved in further.
Fear crept around the edges of her mind. He was rough. Rougher than any of the others dared to be. She had been just starting to believe she was loved here—valued, at least. Now, with each demanding push into her mouth, she felt that certainty wobble.
What if this was all she was to him? A hole. A bargain. A thing.
“What are you thinking about?” he panted, noticing the way her gaze had gone distant.
She hummed around him, too full to answer. He pulled back abruptly, leaving her gasping, mouth wet and empty. “I asked you a question,” he snapped.
“I—” Her voice came out hoarse. She swallowed. “You’re… rougher than the others.” She tried to catch her breath. “I didn’t think I would like this.”
His eyes flashed. “You want me to be gentle?” he asked, mocking and serious at once.
She licked her lips. “No.”
“You like it,” he said. “Don’t lie. I can smell when you’re scared and when you’re wet. Right now you’re both.”
Humiliation flooded her cheeks. The worst part was that he wasn’t wrong. “I’m not—” she started.
He stepped closer, crowding her again. “If you crave honeyed words and gentle touches, find Bennett. But if you wish to feel the very core of your existence shake? You come to me.”
His hand slid between her thighs, fingers grazing the slickness there, and she couldn’t bite back the sound that torefrom her. “That’s what I thought,” he said. “Tell me you want my cock, Snow.”
She swallowed her fear and let him see her want. “Please,” she whispered, hating how needy it sounded.
“Say it louder.”
“Please,” she said again.
He smiled, slow and wicked. “There you go,” he said. “That’s what I wanted to hear.” He untied her ankles first, fingers quick on the knots. Then he set to work on her wrists. The rope slackened, fell away.
Before she could draw a full breath of freedom, he had her spun around and pushed onto the bed, his hands moving her like she weighed nothing. She landed on her stomach, the blankets soft against her skin. He grabbed her hips and lifted, tucking a pillow under her belly so that her behind was raised, knees sinking into the mattress, arms outstretched above her head.
A moment later, the rope was back, looping around her wrists, securing them to the headboard this time. The new angle left her chest pressed into the mattress, her backside high, thighs parted. She could move even less now. Her heart skittered in her chest. She felt the mattress dip as he shifted behind her. Cool air brushed over the backs of her thighs, then lower, making her shiver. She tensed as his hand skimmed the inside of her knee, sliding up her leg, over the curve where thigh became hip.
His fingers didn’t go where she expected. Instead, they parted her gently, baring her in a way that made her face burn even though no one else was there to see. She heard him inhale sharply. “You smell like you’ve been thinking about this all morning,” he said.
She made an inarticulate sound into the mattress.
He chuckled, low. “I told you,” he leaned in. “Couldn’t get you out of my head.”
For a heartbeat she thought he was going to kiss her where she ached most. Her body clenched in anticipation. Instead, his mouth found a different hole, more forbidden.
The first wet, warm swipe of his tongue over the tight ring of muscle made her whole body jerk. It was like being struck by lightning in a place she hadn’t even known had nerves. “Gage,” she gasped, voice half shock, half warning.
“New, isn’t it?” he said, his breath hot against that sensitive skin. “No one’s ever touched you here.”
