Chapter 24 #2
Declan doesn’t seem to be in the mood to wait for me.
He loops rope beneath the corner of the bed somewhere, then lashes my ankle with the other end.
Then he uses it to draw my leg toward him, and I can’t resist. The bastard does it slowly, too, watching me the whole time, forcing me to spread for him, inch by inch.
I close my eyes, turning my face away, listening to his movement as he walks around the bed and repeats it on the other side.
And now I’m tied hands and feet, completely helpless on his bed.
Why did I agree to this?
The truth is, I didn’t. I resigned myself to it. Like that changes the outcome.
“You shaved,” he murmurs.
My eyes are still closed, but it tells me where he’s looking. And I know he hasn’t only just noticed. “Yes.” I catch myself biting my lip again, and stop with an effort. “Is that… okay?”
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. So are you.”
Somehow, he makes that sound sincere. I still have a hard time believing it.
The bed shifts as his weight settles on it, then something soft slides over my head. I tense, freezing, opening my eyes in time for a blindfold to cover them.
“Why?” I ask.
“So you can feel.”
“I’m already feeling,” I mutter. Vulnerable. Exposed. Aroused. Helpless.
“Hellcat?”
“Yes?”
“Be quiet.”
I go silent, lying there on his bed, knowing he’s looking at me.
But not touching me. I thought he would by now, but he hasn’t.
Seconds become minutes, and I can’t help but squirm, wondering what I’m supposed to do, or not do.
I’m half anticipating him, half dreading the moment he begins the next round of punishment.
I don’t even know what he’s planning, only that I can’t stop him, whatever it is.
Declan’s fingers brush my flank, and I jump at the sudden contact. My body feels alive, and he’s barely touched me.
His hand caresses across my abdomen, toys with my hip, drifts down to my thigh, stroking inside.
He doesn’t touch my pussy, but trails back up again, following the line of my tattoo around my breast. Like he’s painting me with his fingers, every movement slow and deliberate, the pressure so light it’s hardly there.
Yet I still feel all of it, my skin tingling.
He places a kiss on my stomach, licking softly as he does.
So gentle, and not what I expected. Then he pulls away, and the next kiss is on my shoulder, above my breast. I want him to kiss lower.
His fingers brush my cheek, run down over my lips, and my chin comes up by itself, searching for more.
He continues down to my throat, pausing on the hollow, circling with a feathery caress.
Like he’s marking me, playing with the part of me that is animalistic in its vulnerability.
Predator and prey, while I’m bound and blindfolded.
I can’t help my shudder, but it’s not fear. It’s submission. And I know that’s exactly what he wants.
At last, his mouth finds my breast. My whole body is humming, the blindfold and the anticipation making every sensation more intense.
He sucks the flesh of my breast deep into his mouth, not even touching my nipple, and I can’t help the moan that escapes.
The suction is half sensual, half uncomfortable, not quite enough to be an ache, but the blood rushes to my nipple.
And then, deep inside his mouth, his tongue rubs across it.
I jerk against the ropes, back arching, a cry slipping out. All that, from just one lick.
A single fingertip trails between my labia, glancing over my clit, and my hips lift.
“Declan…”
His mouth leaves my breast. “Be quiet, or I’ll gag you, too.”
I whimper in response.
Fingers skim down my thigh, caressing beneath my knee.
He places a kiss on my armpit, sucking at the soft, sensitive skin.
Then another on my hip, licking across the bone.
Something brushes my mouth, and I’m too slow to react before it’s gone.
He teases me with touch after touch, different areas every time.
Rarely on my breasts or my sex, though when he does, it’s electric.
I know I’m wet, but he hasn’t commented. He’s barely said anything for a while.
How long has it been?
Is this my punishment? Forced to endure as he plays with me?
It sucks. It’s wonderful. It’s torture. I want more.
I lift my hips to him, begging silently, and in response, I feel the bed shift as he climbs off.
Is he going to leave me now? Aroused and pleading?
Sadistic. Asshole.
The bed dips again, and this time he’s between my legs. I feel his breath on my open sex, and almost sob with the anticipation of it, even as I pull at the ropes, trying to draw my ankles together.
He lays his hands on my thighs. “You can’t stop me, Hellcat.” He sounds almost smug.
I shudder at his words, knowing they’re true. The heat in his implicit promise is enough to scorch, but I’m still unsure. What if he doesn’t like the way I taste? What if I’m too wet?
Declan breathes on me, then draws in a deep breath, letting it out in a long, slow sigh. “Fuck, you smell delicious.”
His tongue presses flat to my folds, then he licks slow, taking his sweet time, making a soft noise low in his throat.
The vibrations carry just enough to tingle, and my whole body is so alive to him, it’s exquisite agony.
I cry out, unable to stop myself, hips rising off the bed, pressing up to him.
I’ve never been so turned on in my life, and he’s hardly touched me where I want him to.
Everywhere else, yes… like he was deliberately avoiding my breasts, my sex.
My body is covered in the memory of his fingers, and I swear he’s mapped every inch of my skin.
But none of that matters now. Not with where his mouth is.
He presses his face into me, tongue pushing into my hole, his beard prickling the smooth skin of my labia. And he groans as he licks me, like a man taking a drink after too long in the desert.
“God, I love the taste of you,” he murmurs against me. “I’m going to feast. You do what you want; I’m going to be a while.”
I let out a sound that might be an eep, but it doesn’t seem to faze him.
He pushes his tongue back inside me, completely ignoring my clit, like he means what he says: that it’s my taste he wants, not my pleasure.
He licks everywhere, finding my clit often enough that it keeps me on the edge, then flirting with my opening and back again.
Being robbed of my sight just makes it all the more intense, and my hips have developed a mind of their own, desperately seeking the friction he’s denying me.
After being tormented for so long, it’s not enough.
I want to come, and Declan is skilled enough to make it happen; he’s proven that already.
So he's doing this on purpose. Punishing me.
“Please…” I beg at last, my pride shot. “Please, Declan.”
“Please what, little hellcat?”
He knows damn well what. “Please let me come.”
“Didn’t you say you didn’t want this?”
Uh… I might’ve made a comment in that direction. “I don’t remember. Please, may I come?”
“And you didn’t want to be tied up.” He slides a finger inside me, and I’m so wet it goes in easily. He finds my g-spot, curling his fingertip against it, and my back arches. It’s so good, but it’s still not enough.
“Hellcat?” he prompts.
Did he ask me something? If he did, I can’t remember what it was and I don’t care, either. “Please, Declan. Please let me come.”
The torment is deliberate. He’s such a bastard.
His finger rubs inside me as he licks over my clit, once, twice. Then he pauses. “Didn’t you call me a bastard?”
I wail my frustration. Did I say that out loud? I’m certain I didn’t. “No?”
“I think you did.”
In my head, sure. To his face? Uh… maybe. Probably. “I’m sorry.”
“You already apologized,” he reminds me. “Remember what I said?”
Fuck if I know.
Oh yes… something about me not yet being sorry enough.
Shit.
“Please, Declan. I’m really sorry. Please let me come!”
He sucks my clit into his mouth, lashing it back and forth with his tongue, and my orgasm leaps forward, the edge rushing toward me.
Then he stops.
“Do you know what I like?” he asks, as if it’s the time to discuss our favorite colors.
“Jesusfuck. Would you please let me come?”
“I like hearing you beg.”
“I’m begging, you bastard. I’m fucking begging.” My whole body is tense, my nipples are aching, my brain is mush, and my nails are digging into my palms.
He rests his forehead against my thigh. “Didn’t you ask me to let you up?”
“I don’t want you to let me up,” I cry. “I’ve changed my mind. I want to be tied down.”
“Oh. Good.” He places a kiss on my pussy. “That is a happy coincidence.”
“Fuck you, you bastard. If you don’t make me come right now…”
“Yes, Hellcat? Exactly what will you do?” He sounds genuinely curious.
I thrash against the bed, moving my hips to the fullest of the range he’s allowed me. “Please, Declan.”
“Didn’t you… punch me in the thigh?”
I whimper, going limp. I did, and there’s no defense to that. “I’m sorry.” And I mean it.
“I know.” He pats my leg consolingly. “You can’t help being such a hellcat.”
He rises over me. I feel his naked body against mine, and realize he’s shed his clothes at some point. His cock glides heavy between my legs, over my sex, making me sob with need. One arm brushes my side as he braces his weight, then the head of him is rubbing through my folds.
“Please…” It’s a pathetic, plaintive sound, but I’m past caring. I just need him inside me.
He doesn’t keep me waiting long, but pushes himself within. My body welcomes him, hips rolling to meet him, and I’m so wet he slides halfway in before my pussy clenches involuntarily, making us both gasp.
“Fuck, Hellcat,” he mutters. “You’re so tight.”
He pulls back, then pushes in again. His cock sinks deep, fitting me perfectly, and I almost come from that alone.
Yet he holds still, stretching me, filling me, but not giving me what I need.
I want to clutch at him, and I pull at the ropes.
But his knots are solid… damn him. I can’t even wrap my legs around him.
There’s only one resort left. “Declan… please fuck me.”
“I’m going to,” he promises in a voice filled with lust, his cock twitching deep. “And you’re going to come.”
His hips draw back, and he slams into me.
I cry out, and his mouth covers mine, muffling the sound.
He thrusts again, just as hard as before, hips angled so his cock rubs against my g-spot.
I know he’s doing that on purpose. His tongue slips between my lips, and I taste myself on him.
White lights dance through the blindfold or just maybe in my head, I can’t tell.
I’m lost in the fulfillment of it, racing toward my climax.
And when he thrusts again, I crash over the edge into ecstasy.
“Fucking… perfect… pussy,” he murmurs between thrusts, then kisses me again. I’m lost to him, legs spread as far as the ropes allow, moaning my pleasure into his mouth, one orgasm falling into the next, until I’m shuddering beneath him.
I don’t know how long it goes on for. Seconds? Minutes? I can’t tell. I’m only conscious of everywhere our bodies touch, the pounding of my heart, and when I remember, the need to gasp for breath.
“You’re mine,” Declan breathes, and he’s not asking. He’s telling me.
“Yes…” In that moment, there’s no doubt.
He moves in me like he has all the time in the world, and I move with him, as much as the ropes will allow. There’s nothing else; just him, and I lose count of what’s an orgasm as it merges into relentless pleasure.
I feel the moment of change. His breathing comes heavier, body tensing. His strokes come faster and shorter, his cock swelling inside me, and he thrusts deep, then grunts his release. Warmth sprays within me, the best feeling in the world, and it makes my orgasm peak again.
He shudders over me, hips grinding into mine, and lets loose a deep, satisfied breath. Then he lowers himself until his weight presses into me, solid and heavy, strangely reassuring.
It’s a long moment before our breath steadies and either of us can speak.
“Before you draw back inside your head,” he murmurs, “know that I’ll do this as often as I need to, until you accept how amazing you are.”
Amazing? Me?
It’s the most terrifying thing anyone has ever said to me. It’s also a sliver of hope—I know how long those last.
I can’t find a reply.
“Raven,” he says, voice terse, demanding attention. He pulls the blindfold off, and I blink at the sudden light, even though it’s low. “That was a promise. Don’t you dare ignore me.”
“It’s… uh…” I swallow hard. “Thank you.”
Declan stares at me in astonishment, then the corner of his mouth lifts. “Thank you?”
“Um…” It was the best I had.
He pushes with his hips, drawing a gasp from me and a round of aftershocks, my eyes fluttering closed. “Then I’ll make you another promise: I’m not going anywhere. I’ll ride with you wherever the road takes us.”
That sounds… serious.
And not as scary as it should.
“Is your thigh up to that?”
“Actually, no riding tonight.” He grins down at me. “It fucking hurts.”
Yeah. I did that.
But I got the better end of the punishment.