Chapter 63
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Lily
Song- let me fall, Ex Habit, BURY
He doesn’t let me walk up the stairs, of course not. He hoists me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing, slapping my ass with every step he takes.
“Drago!” I squeal.
His hand cracks down again. “Shh.”
My body is already burning from the inside out with anticipation, my mind spiraling with a thousand possibilities of what he might do to me. How far he’ll push, how much he’ll make me beg.
He takes us straight to his room and kicks the door shut behind us without even slowing down… but he doesn’t head for the bed.
No.
He turns, purposeful, and carries me right into the bathroom.
Black stone tiles surround the space, sleek and cold and sinful, and when he finally sets me down, my legs wobble beneath me like my body doesn’t quite remember how to function without him holding me.
“Wait here,” he orders, and then he presses a hot, claiming kiss to my lips.
Before I can even catch my breath, he’s gone. And then he’s back again before I can move, with silver handcuffs in his hand.
I blink at them, a laugh slipping out despite the way my pulse spikes. “You just keep a pair of those lying around?” I tease.
His gaze drags over me like he’s stripping me without touching me. Then he closes the distance and tears his clothes off in seconds, kicking them across the floor like they’re an inconvenience. “I stole them from Inferno a few days ago,” he says, voice rough, “in the hopes this was on your list.”
Relief washes through me so hard it almost makes me dizzy. I hate thinking about him with anyone else. Hate the idea of anyone having access to him.
He must see it in my face, because he’s kissing me again before the doubt can take root, swallowing it down like it isn’t welcome here.
He backs us into the shower.
When he flicks the water on behind me, a freezing spray explodes over us both, soaking my skin instantly.
I gasp, but he’s already holding me tight, pressing me into the tiles, his body caging mine in, heat to ice, control to chaos.
The cold against my already-hot skin only turns me on more.
His mouth doesn’t leave mine.
His hand slides down my arm, slow and deliberate, as he secures the first cuff around my wrist. The click is loud in the space.
With a grin, he positions me under the lukewarm water, lifting my arm and pulling the chain through the shower pole above.
Then he takes my other wrist, just as gently, just as firmly, locking it in place.
I’m exposed. Vulnerable.
My breath catches, my entire body going still as my eyes lock onto his. I don’t look away. I can’t.
“Is that okay, baby?” he asks.
“Yes.”
It’s not a whisper. It’s not hesitant.
It’s mine.
His hands roam over me immediately, warm palms skimming soaked skin, cupping my breasts like he owns them. He leans down, takes my nipple into his mouth, and sucks until my knees nearly buckle.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he mutters, his voice thick.
He peppers kisses up my chest, slower now, like he’s savoring me. Then he pushes my wet hair off my shoulder, baring my neck.
I tilt my head to the side instinctively, offering him more.
“You’re perfect,” he tells me, and the words hit somewhere deeper than my skin.
He nudges my legs apart with his thigh. His hand dips between them. “Mmmm,” he hums against my ear. “Soaking for me, aren’t you?”
Then his fingers slide inside me, and I swear my soul leaves my body.
“I can’t help it,” I choke out, trembling.
He doesn’t slow down. He’s relentless, pumping his fingers with a pace that makes me lose myself, makes my voice climb louder and louder until I don’t even recognize the sounds coming out of me.
“D-Drago,” I cry, helpless.
The chains rattle against the metal above my head as I squirm, fighting the rise of my climax, fighting the way my body wants to give him everything.
“You don’t come until I give you permission,” he orders.
“But—”
His eyes snap to mine, and he grips my face, his fingers digging into my jaw, taking my breath away.
“I think you mean yes, sir,” he reminds me.
My mouth snaps shut as he eases his pace, slowing just enough to make me ache.
“Yes, sir,” I breathe.
His smile is pure sin.
“Good girl.” His lips graze mine. “I want to enjoy you thoroughly.”
I bite down on my tongue as he goes back to kissing every inch of me, from my throat, my collarbone, my chest, like he’s memorizing me.
Then he drops to his knees. And something inside me shifts. Because being here… even restrained… even giving him this kind of power, it isn’t scary. It isn’t triggering. It’s healing.
The fear doesn’t exist when I’m in his hands.
When he’s in control, my mind doesn’t slip back into the dark. It stays right here. In the present. In sensation. In him.
He worships me. He drags me back to life, makes me forget pain ever existed… and then teaches me who I can be without it. He hooks my legs over his shoulders and takes my weight easily, his hands gripping my ass to hold me still and right where he wants me.
My mouth falls open. My eyes flutter shut.
Water sprays over us in chaotic streams as he feasts on me like a man starving.
My hips buck against him as I fight every desperate need to fall apart, the chains rattling again, my body shaking hard with the effort of holding back.
His moans fill the air; he’s getting off on the fact that he’s the one doing this to me.
And it makes everything worse. Hearing how turned on he is by me. Feeling how much he wants it.
Fuck.
It’s powerful.
It’s consuming.
And I’m right on the edge, shaking, drenched, breathless. Trying so hard not to break until he lets me.