Page 90 of Bleed

My pulse pounds as Valentina peels my thong down my legs, then guides me from the sofa onto the rug. She tips me forward onto my palms, then slaps my ass in encouragement.

My hips sway as I start crawling in Elliott’s direction.

The distance between us isn’t far, but every brush of the carpet beneath my knees sends another wave of nervous anticipation rolling through me. He watches my every move with quiet intensity, and by the time I stop in front of him, my heart’s beating so hard there’s no way he can’t hear it.

I rise up on my knees in front of him, placing my palms flat against my thighs and sticking my tongue out in invitation. For several long seconds, he just stares back at me, fingers tightening around his girth.

His gaze rakes over my bare body before settling on my face again, one dark brow lifting. “Are you certain you want this?” he asks, his voice calm and steady as ever.

“Yes,” I breathe.

He says nothing. Instead, he lifts his hand from his cock and extends it toward me, fingers slipping beneath my chin to tip it up. He studies me in the same way he studies everything else– looking for inconsistencies, hesitation, or variables he hasn’t accounted for. Searching for any reason to stop.

When he finds none, a slow breath leaves him, like he’s grappling with his own self-control.

“Then there’s one condition,” he says, dark eyes boring into mine. “For your safety, you will follow my lead.”

My belly dips.

“No provoking me,” he warns. “No testing boundaries to see how I’ll respond. I decide the pace. I decide when we continue, and I decide when we stop.” He pauses, jaw flexing. “You will trust my judgment. If, at any point, you cannot do that, this ends immediately.”

Something in the certainty of it makes another shiver race down my spine. Not because it scares me, but the opposite.

Outside the bedroom, being told what to do makes every rebellious instinct I possess rear its head. I’ve spent my entire life pushing back against authority, questioning rules, and doing the exact opposite of what people expected simply because they expected it. But when it comes to sex, there’s freedom in relinquishing control. To trust someone else to lead and just simply feel.

His thumb presses gently against my chin. “Do you understand?”

I nod.

“Say it out loud.”

“Yes.”

He lowers his hand, exhaling through his nose. “You’re free to change your mind at any point,” he adds. “The moment you decide you’re finished, you tell me.”

“I won’t,” I blurt.

One dark brow arches as he wraps his hand around his girth again, the corner of his mouth curling ever so slightly. “We’ll see about that.”

Challenge accepted, asshole.

Elliott shifts forward in his chair, angling the broad head of his cock toward my mouth. “Open.”

I do without hesitation.

He feeds it to me inch by inch, his other hand resting on my head to guide me. He’s big, and I struggle to take it all, but the look in his eyes when I gag as he bumps the back of my throat is absolutely worth the effort.

“Fuck,” he groans, reaching for my hands and settling them on his thighs. “Keep your hands here. If it’s too much, tap twice.”

I hum in acknowledgement, eliciting another groan from deep in his chest.

His fingers thread into my hair and he takes exactly what he wants, guiding my pace. Slow at first, then faster, holding me still so he can fuck my face.

It’s filthy and so fucking hot I can barely stand it.

I hollow out my cheeks, sucking hard, swirling my tongue against his velvety underside. I completely lose myself in it, letting him use me, letting the submission roll over me until I’m aching for release all over again.

At some point, Valentina quietly excuses herself, slipping out of the apartment. I don’t really know when. With Elliott’s cock down my throat, I don’t really care.