Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Hannah
My nipples are tight beads. My pussy’s wet and slick. I’m hungry for a re-do, so I can come. I also realize how insane this is. Me, seducing my captor. Or was he seducing me?
What in the hell are we doing?
We step inside my apartment, and he closes the door behind us.
“I’d spread your legs wide and lick that pussy until you screamed.” His voice is rough and raw.
I remember again how much passion he brought to our hookup back at the shop. How he’s fresh out of prison, and I’m the first woman he’s been with.
“W-what do I have to do”—I swallow—“to get that treatment?”
Armando grabs me by the hair and claims my mouth as he walks me backward until my knees hit the bed. I fall back onto it, and he follows, climbing over me, lips twisting over mine.
I would’ve said the kiss we shared back at my shop was the best of my life, but this one might be even better. It doesn’t carry as much desperation, but now I get some finesse. Like a violent kiss followed by a quick nip. A trail of kisses that run down the side of my throat.
“Now you’re in trouble,” he murmurs as he pins my wrists above my head. “Big trouble.”
I writhe beneath him, lust blasting through me. I swear I’ve never had this kind of reaction to a guy before. I’ve been excited, especially if I’ve had a drink or two, but the way my body reacts to Armando now is off the charts.
Our first hook up was a lightning strike.
This time, he goes slow. He bites through the layers of my crop top and the camisole beneath it to scrape his teeth over my nipple.
My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in tighter.
I twist my hips, trying to find satisfaction rubbing against him.
He reaches down and pulls something out of his pocket.
I think it’s going to be a condom, but it’s the roll of floral tape.
Like he planned on tying me up again.
And that thought should scare me way more than it does. But with the way his mouth is on mine, I can only interpret his actions one way: the tape is for sexy times.
He winds it around my wrists—not nearly so tightly as he did back at the shop—and pushes my wrists back over my head. He leans up on one hand, gazing down at me. His pupils are blown, eyes full of dark intent, but his face is expressionless. Like he’s forgotten how to smile.
He traces his thumb lightly down the inside of my arm. I squirm when it covers the most ticklish part.
“You didn’t answer me before.”
He sounds so gruff. So serious. If it weren’t for the light touch, I would think he was pissed.
“About what?”
“What part turned you on—being tied up or spanked? Or the other thing?”
The other thing. I guess that’s him grappling with a guy in a fight to the death.
It definitely shouldn’t have turned me on.
Except I always had a thing for those Jason Bourne movies, and Armando looked every inch as badass as Matt Damon.
Or Chris Hemsworth in that Netflix movie Extraction .
So yeah, up until the actual death part, it tweaked the most primitive part of my brain.
The part that seeks to reproduce with the fiercest warrior in the land.
“All of it,” I murmur.
He stares a moment longer, without saying anything. Like he’s trying to read into the depths of my soul. Then he asks, “You like it rough?”
My face grows warm. I’d be a fool to admit such a thing with a guy I can’t trust. Besides, I don’t know if it’s true. Before today, I hadn’t tried it.
“I liked it rough with you.” That’s the truth—and all I know, really.
Something shutters behind his eyes, and he reaches for my wrists, pulling my arms long over my head and attaching them to the bedpost.
Shivers of excitement run through me at my helplessness.
The thrill of being completely at his mercy focalizes every sensation to a sharp point.
He shoves my two shirts up and tugs down the front of my bra roughly.
I gasp a little, my belly shuddering in and out with my breath, my nipples bead up into stiff peaks.
He pinches my right nipple between his thumb and forefinger and squeezes.
Hard. Then he slaps the side of my breast.
I croak in surprise. I’m scared—definitely scared—because it hurt a little, and no one’s ever touched me that way before. There’s a disrespect to it, too, that I’m not sure I like.
Except he watches my face intently.
And that steady regard calms me.
He pinches my nipple again then drops his head to suck it. He laves it with his tongue, scrapes his teeth lightly over the taut bud, pulls it into his mouth and releases it with a pop.
My lips part. Brain fries and scrambles.
He gives the treatment to the left nipple, only he starts with his mouth and ends with a slap.
I cry out, startled once more. I’m a little frightened, a lot turned on. He pinches both nipples at the same time, rolling them between his fingers and thumbs and pinching before he expands his grip to encompass all of the breast.
I drop my head back and arch, filling his hands with my breasts, begging for more.
Armando moves lower, his large palms sliding up my skirt, skating lightly up my thighs to my hips, then hooking under the waistband of my panties and dragging them down.
“I didn’t make you come enough before, did I?” His voice is a rusty rumble. “You’re a greedy, greedy girl.”
I shake my head.
“I’m gonna make it up to you this time.”
My breath comes out in a low moan.
He tosses the panties to the side and runs the pad of his thumb over my dewy slit. “Juicy,” he observes.
I’d be embarrassed, except he brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks my fluid like it’s honey. “Spread.”
I stare for a moment, taken aback by the command. He grips behind my knees and pushes them up toward my chest, then slaps the inside of my thigh. It smarts, and I don’t like it, but then I forget because he lowers his head between my legs.
The first lick makes my hips jump off the bed. He slides his hands under them and grips my ass, squeezing and releasing as he strokes his tongue up and down my slit.
Crazy sounds come out of my mouth. Strangled sobs. Little uhn s. Choked breathing.
I moan and arch and thrash my legs around his shoulders.
He takes his time. The tip of his tongue traces all around my inner lips, then flicks over my clit. He uses it to penetrate me, then puts his lips over my nubbin and sucks.
I scream, yanking on my bound hands, my knees crashing around his ears. He sinks his thumb into my entrance without releasing the suction on my clit, and I start to shake and shudder. I’m close—so close—to release. I just need him to pump that thumb in and out, and I’ll get there.
Only he doesn’t.
He slides his thumb out. Breaks the seal on the suction.
“No-o,” I moan. “Please.”
“You want to come?” His voice is so rough and deep I scarcely recognize it.
“Yes. Please. Do it again, Armando. Oh God, please?”
“You gonna be a good girl?”
“Yes!” I don’t have any clue what he’s talking about, but I will definitely be a good girl. I would do anything he wanted me to at this point.
“If I say spread , what do you do?” He brings his fingers down in a light slap over my clit, and my knees snap closed and flap open like wild butterfly wings.
“Spread. Oh God, I’ll spread. I’m sorry—I was slow before.”
He sinks his thumb into my entrance again, and I moan with satisfaction. I can tell how swollen and wet I’ve gotten. How much I need this.
“Please,” I plead again.
I’ve never begged for it before. Never needed it like this.
If he would just pump that thumb, I’d be there. Or suck my clit again. I flap my knee-wings some more, trying to take his thumb deeper.
I’m shocked by the sensation of a finger at my anus, and I tighten against it, whining.
“Nuh uh.” He shakes his head. “Open for it.”
Oh God. Really?
I don’t want it. Except I do. Because as that digit works against my back hole, my temperature rises at least eight degrees, and I start moaning like a porn star. It’s taboo and wrong, but it feels so good.
He pumps, alternating between his thumb and other finger, then pumping them both at the same time. The moment he leans over and rides my clit with his tongue, I come— hard.
So incredibly hard.
Like so hard fireworks dance before my eyes, and I close my mouth around a full-on scream.
The room spins. Lights continue to flash and pop behind my lids. My pussy and anus squeeze around his digits, and I sob out every last bit of pleasure I have in me.
I don’t know how long it lasts. I get lost somewhere on another plane.
I open my eyes when he starts easing out, and it feels like I’ve been gone forever.
Armando’s expression is inscrutable as usual.
And that’s when the doorbell rings.