Page 200 of Reign

“Color?”

The question cuts through the pleasure still pulsing through my body. His hand remains still against my stomach while he waits.

I take one breath and find the answer beneath the aftershocks.

“Green.”

He smiles against my skin. “Good. Then your consequence is another.”

Then he moves. Harder this time.

My mouth falls open, but no sound comes out at first. The first thrust steals it. The second gives it back as a broken moan. The third makes my fingers tighten around the silk so hard my knuckles ache.

There is nothing slow now, nothing gentle.

One hand presses more firmly on my stomach while the other grips my hip, holding me exactly where he wants me while he fucks me through the oversensitive ache left behind by the orgasm I wasn’t allowed to have.

It’s too much.

It’s mean.

It’s so damn good I want to cry.

“Luciano,” I sob.

“Again,” he says.

I shake my head. “I can’t.”

“You can, princesa.” His hand presses down, and my pussy tightens so hard around him that he makes a rough sound in his throat. “You’re already doing it.”

I hate him.

I love this.

I hate that I love this.

My legs pull against the restraints, the silk bites into my wrists, and every time he drives into me, I feel that pressure inside my stomach again. That impossible fullness. That awful, perfect spot he keeps hitting like he has a map of my body and no mercy at all.

The second orgasm builds too fast.

I panic.

Because I want it so badly my whole body forgets shame and pride and dignity and every stupid thing I use to keep myself standing.

“Hold the ties if you need to, mi vida.” He smirks. “Tight.”

My fingers twist into the silk above my head. The pull locks my shoulders in place, stretches my body open, and somehow makes the next thrust feel deeper.

A cry breaks out of me.

“There,” he says. “Come on my cock, princesa.”

I come again.

This one is messier.

Louder.