Chapter 19
Zeno’s tongue was way too effective for his own good, but the moment he showed me his cock, my insides clenched with an utmost need, a craving, only he’ll be satisfying.
He slides onto the bed, positioning himself in the centre and leans back against the headboard. “Your move, signora .”
God, that word. That language. Russian is obviously my mother tongue and that of my country’s too, so it’s boring and simplistic in my opinion, especially when spoken during sex. Perhaps it’s because Italian is different from what I know, or it’s simply him that makes it sound hotter. I could very well listen to him talk all day without complaint.
My move , as he worded it, is to slowly approach the bed, jerking the ribbon ties at my chest as I do. The dress isn’t held up by much and with an extra flick of my fingers, the bodice loosens enough that with a few more movements, it’s wiggled down to my waist before gravity finishes removing it, leaving me completely bare except for my heels.
“Bellissima.”
I shiver, but not from the cold. “What’s that mean?”
“Gorgeous. Beautiful. Everything in that calibre.”
His compliment ignites my nerves, but I pretend to be unaffected by it, making myself busy and reaching for the pre-tied silky rope from between the headboard and mattress.
Zeno watches, his lips kicking into a delicious smirk when I slowly tie his wrist, demanding, “Remind me of your safe word.”
It’s misericordia , the Italian term for mercy , if my memory is pronouncing that correctly. The irony isn’t lost on me. Almost like this complete stranger is aware of the nickname given by soldiers and enemies alike. A really good coincidence, even if it feels too good to be one, but I shrug it off.
“Misericordia.” His eyes remain on me as I walk to the other side of the bed and retrieve more rope and begin the same process.
“Good. Be sure to use it if you feel the binds are too restricting at any point, or you need out.” I wave my hand toward his wrists. “Comfortable?”
He nods, a flutter of surprise flashing over his face; a look I feel almost insulted by. And maybe I would be if I didn’t understand it as much as I do, though it never fails to annoy me. The number of female dominants versus their male counterparts seems so much less, and somehow, it comes with the assumption that I don’t know how to properly take care of my partner, even if they’re only a one-night-stand.
“If I were to pull this...” I lean over and gesture to one end of the tie. “You’d be free. Okay?”
He nods.
“Verbal responses only.”
“Sì, signora.”
Ignoring how that term makes my core clench, I head down toward the end of the bed to tie his ankles. As I go, my finger trails over his abs, his hip, pausing an inch away from that cock of his. I hover, checking his reaction.
There’s hope in his gaze. Longing. But denial is half the fun, so I continue, moving down his legs, anticipation thrumming to see him all bound up. He certainly isn’t my first, and he definitely won’t be my last, but has there been a man I’ve been more eager to have?
By the footboard, I gather the ropes there, showing him one. “For your ankles. Can’t have you taking over.”
“No, that’d be a shame,” he murmurs, watching with an intensity I’m finding downright terrifying as I loop the rope around his left ankle, tying it quickly thanks to practice.
Then I do the same to his right one before verifying, “Feel good?”
He jerks his legs, checking the bounds, and responds, “Yes.”
“Remember your safe word, if you need it,” I remind once again as I stop by my nightstand and jerk open the drawer. Alongside my gun for extra nighttime protection are my usual toys. He did say he doesn’t have limits…but the more seconds that pass, the more I’m finding this isn’t what I want tonight. There’s something different about Zeno. His directness. His humour. Something that has me wanting it to only be him and me. Not even a blindfold appeals to me because I want to watch his piercing emerald eyes. Want him to see precisely who he’s with and remember this night long after it ends.
So I instead grab a condom for later before shutting the drawer and sliding onto the bed beside him. “When’s the last time you were tied up?”
“A few months ago.”
I nod, pretending to think his response over. In truth, I have no idea why I asked at all, other than having the urge to know. A strange sensation since I’ve never cared about a man’s sexual history before.
“Tonight,” I start, voice low as I slide overtop him, one leg on either side of his stomach. It positions me right over his abs, but his cock taps the back of my ass, taunting me with the temptation of just sliding down and taking him inside me.
I can already imagine the feeling of being stretched with his girth. Of feeling mindless and even boneless. Of throwing my head back and thrusting overtop him, feeling him everywhere at once so when the orgasm consumes me, it’s as though nothing will ever replicate the sensation he brings.
“Tonight,” I try again, “you’re all mine. And what I want is to see how long I can keep you on edge before you beg for release.”
“That depends. Do you want me to beg you at all?”
I smirk at his cheekiness. Clearly, he knows how to play. “I do,” I reply in a low crooning voice as I lower my chest to his. Nails scrape his pecs and over his neck, tracing a delicate vein. “I do because my favourite thing is to make a man lose his mind.”
Zeno’s eyes flash to mine, a strange look in them when he says, “You made me lose my mind the moment I saw you on that balcony.”
My stomach flips, both in appreciation and in denial. I shake it off with a tap of my index finger to his neck. “Compliments won’t make me go easy on you. Now, no more talking unless you’re begging to come.”
I straighten, studying my work on both his wrists and ankles. He watches me carefully as I press a gentle, barely-there kiss to his lips and slide my hands along his arms until reaching the black rope.
“Seeing you all bound for my pleasure gives a woman ideas, Zeno.”
So many, I almost don’t know where to start. I want to taste him, exactly as he did for me, only to pull back right before he can come. There’s something about a man being edged that’s entirely too sexy. Witnessing the plea and desperation in his expression while being aware I’m behind it.
But even better: finally granting the release he’ll crave. Of witnessing his orgasm consume his entire body, mind, and even fucking soul. That’s my favourite. Teasing my partner but being trusted enough to eventually give in and release them from both the physical and metaphorical bounds they’ve found themselves in. Then there’s the aftercare. Rubbing aches from their nerves, warming any post-orgasm shakes, and simply caring for them before sending them on their way.
I kiss down his neck, over his smooth chest, breathing in the scent I can’t quite place but wish I could bottle. My tongue dabs out and licks through my movements, heading for his pert nipples and taking one in between my teeth.
He jerks his wrists and ankles at the same time, causing me to smile. He’s sensitive here, which makes this more fun. I lap the small nub while my hand plays with his other one, rubbing circles around it until trading off and repeating the same to his other. He makes a low sighing sound, his weight dropping deeper into my bed as he begins to let go.
As I move my mouth down, my hips have to follow the trajectory and my pussy slides right over his cock. I bite the inside of my cheek, but Zeno’s restraint isn’t the same, and he makes another noise, this one a partial grunt.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “You’re so warm.”
“You’re talking,” I remind him. “For every word that isn’t a please , I’m more likely to hold back.”
I keep going, kissing down his body but purposely avoiding his cock, instead going around and lapping at the sensitive skin. He’s all muscle, which makes me wonder what he does for a living. Construction or other outdoor work? Something that keeps his skin toned, his muscles strong. I’d ask, but it goes against my casual disinterest during these interactions.
I move over him, purposely blowing on his erection, smirking as it twitches. I do it again, this time focusing on the bead of precum.
“Signora...”
That didn’t take very long. Zeno definitely seems like a man who won’t break so easily. Shame.
But when he says nothing further, I glance up the length of his body, finding him gazing back at me. It’s intimate—exactly in the way sex could be, but a way I’m also unaccustomed to.
“Yes?”
He smirks. “Nothing.”
“Hm.” So maybe he does have some restraint, but he’ll beg eventually. They all do. Zeno might just take a bit more work, which I’m more than pleased to provide.
Keeping my lips pursed, I press a barely-there kiss to his head, slowly parting my lips and taking him inside my mouth. The deeper I go, the more wanton his moan. He lets out a string of Italian words, which I assume to be curses—or maybe those pleas I’m waiting on—but they spur me on.
Zeno begins twitching in his bindings, his legs jerking beneath me, wrists tugging on the headboard as my tongue wraps his length. I suck him all the way down, feeling his head hit the back of my throat, and then sliding all the way to the tip, finishing with a flick of my tongue. And then I blow over the wet skin and sit back on my haunches, gazing down at him. His panting subsides until his glazed stare widens, realizing I’m done.
For now, anyway.
“Signora.” This time, it’s strained.
“Beg,” I say simply. “Don’t and…” My threat hangs.
After a moment of silence, I lean forward and lap around his cock while avoiding his length. Every nip, every lick is a tease, and when I dip to his balls, I take one in my mouth, and then the second.
His pants grow, and I know he won’t be lasting much longer before he’s pleading for more. I lick up his shaft to flick my tongue against the sensitive piece of skin before taking his head between my lips for only a moment. Then I nip down his length, doing anything and everything to make his quivers stronger, his whimpers louder.
“You make the sexiest noises,” I murmur. “I wonder how loud you’ll get by the end.” After another deep suck, I release him with a hum, peeking up to see his face. “One little word, Zeno, and I’ll take this beautiful cock of yours...” I drag the back of my hand up the shaft. “...in my mouth and won’t let go.”
Still nothing, so I grip him tightly while my other hand cups his balls. His head slams back into my pillows, his lips parted.
“Ple—”
I freeze. “So close. Keep going.”
I bend forward and lick his head again. Once, twice, three times until I finally hear it.
“Please.”
I smile. “Atta boy.”
And then I swallow him deeply and don’t let up.