Page 552 of Reign

“Ready to be good?”

This is probably my opportunity.

My last one, actually.

I lift my chin.

“Dominic.”

He slowly shakes his head. “Disappointing, Elena.”

His hand slips beneath the remaining fabric. Two fingers stroke through the wetness, deliberate, coating themselves. He brings them up and holds them in front of my mouth.

“Clean them.”

I lean forward and take them between my lips, tasting myself, watching his expression darken further. He lets me suck until both fingers are clean, then withdraws them with a soft pop.

“Fuck, Elena, step out of the rest of the dress.”

I push the dress the rest of the way down and step carefully out of it.

When I straighten, I’m naked now except for the collar, the leash, and the heels.

Luciano shortens the leash by another loop around his hand. The collar tightens just enough that I feel every breath against the leather.

He steps back, sits in the low leather chair, and spreads his thighs.

“Come here.”

I walk to him.

The leash keeps me close; every step is measured by the length he allows. When I reach him he catches my waist, lifts me easily, and settles me astride his lap. The hard ridge of his cock presses against me through the fabric of his trousers. I rock once without meaning to.

His hand slides between us, opens his belt, frees himself. The head of his cock is already slick. He holds the base, positioning himself beneath me, and looks up at me.

“You asked for a consequence. Take it.”

I rise onto my knees and sink down in one slow, continuous motion. The stretch is immediate and deep. A broken sound leaves my throat. Luciano’s free hand fists the leash higher, forcing my chin up so I have to meet his eyes while I take every inch.

“There’s my pretty girl,” he murmurs. “Now every time you fuck yourself on my cock, you say my name. Not theirs. Mine.”

I rise again. “Luciano—”

Then sink back down harder. “Luciano.”

The leash stays short in his fist. Every time I lift, the collar tugs gently at my throat, reminding me exactly who is allowing this. I plant my hands on his shoulders and start riding him properly—dropping down harder, fucking myself on the thick cock that splits me open so perfectly. Wet sounds fill the quiet room. Leather creaks beneath us. Luciano’s cologne, warmed by his skin, fills every breath I take. I’m soaked, sliding easily, and he just watches me with that dark, satisfied look, letting me work.

“Look at you,” he says, voice low and rough. “My greedy little slut, bouncing on my cock because you wanted to play with names that don’t matter. Say it again.”

“Luciano,” I moan.

I pick up the pace, chasing the heat building low in my stomach. My thighs burn. The purple collar is warm against my skin. The leash never loosens.

“Who owns this pussy?”

“You—Luciano—“

“Who did you put this collar on for?” He grits.