Chapter 15
Velia’s knuckles rapped against Ferox’s door in a quick, eager pattern. She’d been looking forward to this all day. Jason’s warning earlier that week had made her hesitate, and she’d decided not to make another advance until Ferox did. Or until she couldn’t stand it anymore.
Luckily, Ferox had succumbed first, and how could she refuse when he said “I need you” in that wicked growl?
Barely a moment after she knocked, the door swung open. She smiled at him and took a step into the room—but stopped short.
The floor looked different. Darker, lumpier, indistinct in the flickering light of the single lamp. “What’s this?”
She took a tentative step forward. Her feet sank into something soft.
“You said I needed a rug,” he replied. “I bought three.”
A shocked laugh bubbled up. “You did?” He’d been undone, shattered in the aftermath of their last encounter.
She hadn’t even realized he’d heard her offhand comment about the rug, much less expected him to go out and purchase not one, but three.
The rugs were clumsily layered over each other, covering as much of the floor as possible.
“They don’t match,” he warned her. “They look hideous in daylight.”
She snorted. In the low light, she could only make out hints of color and pattern. “What possessed you to get three of them?”
“I realized why you said that. I wasn’t sure one would be soft enough.”
How was she supposed to withstand this? In the last week alone, he’d brought her ointment to soothe sore muscles, safeguarded the tie to her hair when it fell, and now he’d bought three rugs simply because she’d mentioned it.
Jason had warned her about playing with Ferox’s heart, but if this kept up, her own would be lost to him all too soon.
If it’s not already.
“Well,” Velia said. “I suppose we’d better test them out.” She reached for him, pulling his tunic over his head. His body was bare beneath, his cock already thickening.
She dropped to her knees. “Very nice,” she murmured approvingly as her knees sank into the three layers of padding.
Velia took hold of his cock, giving it one stroke to bring him to full attention.
He drew in a sharp breath at the touch of her hand, which turned into a groan as she closed her lips around him.
His hand went to her head, but this time he didn’t tangle his fingers in her hair, only allowed his fingertips to graze the back of her head.
She released him from her mouth. “I could do this all day.” Her lips brushed him as she spoke, and his hand twitched where it laid on her head.
He made a strained noise. “I fear I’m going to disappoint you.”
She chuckled, then slid her mouth down his length once more. It really was more comfortable this way—but he didn’t give her long to enjoy it.
“Velia,” he hissed after the next stroke. He took a step back, pulling away, and then he tugged her to her feet, stripped off her dress, and turned her toward the bed.
He grabbed the pillow resting at the head of the bed and tossed it aside, pointing to the spot it had occupied. “There,” he said. “Kneel. Put your hands on the wall.”
She raised her eyebrows, intrigued, and did as he asked. What did he have in mind? She was facing away from him. Did he mean to take her from behind?
She quickly figured it out as he lay flat on the bed and slid his face beneath her spread thighs. “Oh!”
His tongue opened her, his lips latching onto that sweet place at the apex of her quim.
The onslaught of sensation made her shudder. His hands wrapped around her thighs, anchoring her to him.
“Can you breathe?” she gasped.
“Don’t. Care,” came the muffled response.
His tongue was doing something to her that made her hips rock, seeking more.
In this position, she had more control over the angle of connection.
She braced her hands against the wall, arching her back to find the perfect position.
A moan tore from her lips. He growled in response, the sound vibrating through her.
His lips pulled and teased at her. She matched his rhythm with the roll of her hips, each breathless movement driving her pleasure higher.
A quiver rippled over her, and her internal muscles clenched. She raised herself off him, just enough to enjoy the suspended pleasure, dark and bittersweet. Her hands trembled where they pressed against the wall, her body urging her to relax back down onto him, to let him finish what he’d started.
He lifted his head, seeking her with his mouth, but she moved herself higher. “No,” she sighed. “Not yet.” She wanted to feel what it was like to climax with him inside her, his cock stretching and filling her.
She maneuvered down his body until her thighs clasped his hips, his arousal swelling in front of her.
His hands settled on her waist. “Gods, Velia, I’ve been imagining this ever since you told me that story about—about how you ended up here.”
She giggled when she realized what he was referring to: the tale of how her parents had caught her tumbling a man. “Really? Me getting caught with another man is what you fantasize about?”
“Not the getting caught,” he clarified. “And certainly not the other man. But you atop me like this…” His hands slid lower, taking hold of her hips. “Riding me…”
Her breath hitched at the naked lust in his voice.
She liked the thought of him imagining her, being the object of his fantasies.
“I told you that in one of our first conversations. Have you been thinking of me all this time? Before we even kissed?” She wrapped a hand around his cock and gave him a languid stroke.
“Yes,” he hissed.
“And do you do this while you think of me?” She passed her hand over him once more, fingers playing along his length.
“Velia, please,” he groaned. “Don’t make me admit that.”
She arched an eyebrow. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve done the same. After our first kiss, for example.”
He made another noise of desperation. “You can’t—can’t tell me those things while you have your hand wrapped around my cock.”
She decided to have pity on him—besides, her own body was still quivering with lust—and raised herself over him, notching him at her entrance. Slowly, she slid down, taking him inch by inch. “Oh, that’s good,” she moaned as she settled onto him.
His fingers clenched on her hips, digging into her flesh.
His eyes were squeezed shut tight, face frozen in an expression of utter torment.
She braced her hands on his chest and arched her back, taking him deeper.
Primed as she was, every movement sent licks of heat through her.
She had a feeling this would not last long for either of them.
His hands were gripping her so tightly she winced. She didn’t mind his greedy, possessive clasp, but after their first encounter, she knew he wouldn’t like it if he ended up bruising her again. “Ferox,” she murmured. “Your hands.”
He released her with a grunt. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be allowed to touch you at all.”
His words sparked an idea, devious and tempting. She glanced around, noting her dress on the floor within reach of the bed. Then, her eyes lit on a small metal hook driven into the wall above the bed, perhaps once used to hang a lamp. “Perhaps you shouldn’t.”
She anchored one hand on the bed and stretched her other arm down, until her fingertips brushed the fabric of her dress, just able to catch it without leaving him. She untangled the fabric sash from the folds of the dress. “Give me your hands.”
He looked at her with a suspicious gleam in his eyes, but complied.
She wound the length of fabric around his wrists, securing it with a knot.
Then, she leaned forward and drew his arms up, until the fabric caught on the hook over his head.
The position left him sitting against the wall, arms stretched above.
It presented an extremely appealing sight, with the powerful muscles of his arms taut and bunched, yet helpless.
He craned his head to stare at the hook dubiously. “You know that won’t hold me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Stop bragging. I know.” She had no doubt he was strong enough to rip the hook from the plaster wall if he chose, and even without brute force, only a little dexterity would be required to slip the fabric free of it. “But you’re going to let it hold you, because I want you to.”
She gripped his shoulders and sank back down onto him. He let out a hiss. His arms tensed, and she feared her little scheme was over already; she could envision the hook being pulled out of the wall as easily as one might pluck a flower from the ground.
But either it held, or Ferox mastered himself. The thought that he was allowing her to toy with him like this, that he’d accept restraint even when he was more than capable of freeing himself simply because she wanted it this way—it sent a fresh cascade of desire through her.
She moved atop him, rocking her hips back and forth in the way that brought her the greatest pleasure. “See how gentle this can be?” she whispered breathlessly.
The muscles of his stomach tensed, rippling. “It doesn’t feel gentle to me,” he ground out. “It feels like agony.”
“But you’re happy to suffer for me, aren’t you?”
He let out a defeated groan. The pleasure was mounting, and Velia needed more. Her hand slipped from his shoulder and slid between her legs.
His dark, hungry gaze tracked her movements. “I could help you with that if I had my hands free.”
She managed a chuckle despite the lust threatening to overwhelm her. “The way you look right now is helping me plenty.” She stroked herself in tight, firm circles, feeling her inner muscles twitch.
He growled as she clenched around him. “Velia, this is going to kill me.”
Her eyes fell shut, brow furrowing in concentration as she chased the pleasure hovering just out of reach.
He shuddered beneath her. His breath grated through his teeth.
The evidence of his barely controlled desire finally undid her.
The climax burst upon her, and her body bowed and arched atop him as she wrested every bit of pleasure she could from it.
When it released its grip on her, she collapsed forward, catching herself against his upright torso, his chest warm and unyielding. He bent his head to kiss the top of hers, lips brushing her hair.
Once some control of her muscles returned, she eased herself off of him, replacing the clasp of her body with her hand. A tremor rippled through him, bound hands yanking at the restraints. The hook creaked and wiggled, but didn’t give way.
She slid her hand up and down his length. She might have taken him in her mouth, but that would have deprived her of the sight of him gasping and quivering, an alluring combination of raw masculine power and helplessness.
His breathing grew harsh and ragged as she stroked him.
A moan tore from his lips, taking the vague shape of her name.
The sound sent a dark shock of residual pleasure through her.
She knew he must be painfully close, so it didn’t surprise her when after only a few passes of her hand, his hips bucked.
His seed jetted over her fingers as his body went rigid.
A cracking noise sounded, and Velia glanced up to see that the hook had partially yielded. The surrounding plaster splintered, dust and fragments tumbling down the wall. The hook remained in the wall, but canted downward at an angle.
“Oops,” Velia said with a satisfied grin. “We’ll have to fix that.”
Ferox didn’t seem capable of speech, but Velia took pity on him and reached up to unhook his bound wrists, then untied them. She fetched a rag, wiped her hands, then cleaned the remains of his seed from him as well. Once those practicalities were accomplished, she slid back into bed with him.
His arms closed around her. “I didn’t mind that, but I missed touching you.” His voice was low and tender.
She snuggled into his chest with a pleased sigh. She felt similarly; though there had been an undeniable thrill in toying with him like that, the pleasure of being held in his arms was like no other.
Beneath her ear, his heart still pounded, but gradually, as the quiet moments stretched, it slowed. Her breathing matched his, and she allowed it to lull her to sleep.