Page 281 of Reign

I hold it there, waiting, watching the way her throat works as she decides whether to fight me or give in.

But her lips part.

She leans in and closes her lips around the toy.

I watch her tongue work around the silicone, catching the reluctant little hum she makes before I draw it slowly from her mouth.

“Good girl.”

I set the vibrator aside and start on the ropes. First the ones at her ankles, then the ones high on her thighs, then the ones framing her waist and chest. Last, I reach up and free her wrists. The moment the tension releases she stumbles forward on shaky legs. I catch her against my chest before her knees can give out.

The ropes are gone, but she doesn’t step away. She stays against me, trembling and waiting for me to decide what happens next. That trust is more intoxicating than having her suspended ever was.

She glares up at me, voice still rough from the gag. “I didn’t get to come.”

I chuckle, low and warm, and run my hands over the red marks the ropes left behind—tracing gently into the grooves on her wrists, the soft indentations on her hips, the faint lines across her ribs. She shivers under the touch.

“I know,” I murmur. “I’m aware.”

She thinks freeing her means I’m finished.

The suspension was the fantasy. I needed to see it.

What I do with her now is the reward.

She says my name softly at first. A quiet “Luciano…” Then again. The fire that usually burns so bright in her eyes has banked down into something hotter and more desperate. Wide eyes. Soft, pouty mouth. The sharp edges sanded down by need until what’s left is almost sweet.

I love that she gives this to me. This soft, sweet version of Elena Amato that exists beneath all the armor. Fierce, vicious, brilliant Elena, trusting me enough to beg without hiding how badly she needs me.

“Please,” she whispers. “Please, I need—”

I grab her jaw, tilt her face up, and kiss her hard. Deep. Claiming. Swallowing the rest of the plea before she can finish it. When I pull back she’s breathing fast against my mouth.

“I know what you need.”

I lift her easily, carry her the few steps to the padded bench in the corner, and lay her face-down across it. Soft leather against her stomach and chest. I strap her wrists down first, then her ankles, leaving her face-down and open to me.

I step back and strip quickly, already hard and aching for her.

I climb onto the bench behind her, the leather dipping beneath my weight. I settle, one knee outside each thigh, and press my palm between her shoulder blades. She turns her face against the leather, half-lidded eyes trying to find me as I grip her hip and lift her into the angle I want.

The straps around her ankles hold her legs where I placed them, straight, slightly spread and helpless, while my body keeps the rest of her pinned beneath mine.

I drag the head of my cock through the slick mess between her thighs, then line myself up and push in.

Slow enough that she feels every inch.

Hard enough that the bench shifts beneath us.

All the way to the hilt in one deep, controlled thrust.

She cries out, the sound sharp and perfect, and I groan at the way her body opens around me.

“Every time I slam into this pretty cunt,” I tell her, leaning over her with my hand still heavy against her back, “you say my name.”

I pull almost all the way out and drive back in—hard, deliberate, the bench creaking under the force. She cries out again.

“Luciano!”