Chapter 17 Tania
Tania
The door closes behind us, and Silas sets me down.
Then he kisses me. His mouth is demanding, and I open for him immediately. His hands frame my face, tilting my head to the angle he wants.
When he pulls back, I’m already breathing hard.
“How do you want me to fuck you?” His hands move to the buttons of my coat, one at a time.
Okay, then! Straight to it…
“Be specific,” he commands.
The sweater comes next. He lifts it over my head, careful not to catch my hair. He folds it and sets it beside the coat. I’m standing in his bedroom in my bra and jeans, and he’s still fully dressed.
But I don’t care how he fucks me. I just want him to fuck me. “However you want.”
He studies my face. “Have you ever been restrained?”
The question stops me. “No.”
“Do you want to try?”
I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“If it’s too much, tell me. Everything stops. Understand?”
I nod.
“Say it out loud, Tania.”
“I understand.”
He crosses to his closet and returns with two silk ties. The fabric catches the light as he runs his fingers through it.
He steps behind me. Unclasps my bra. The straps slide down my arms, and the cool air raises goosebumps across my chest.
“Jeans off.”
I unfasten them and let them pool at my ankles. Then I step out of them and my underwear both. Now I’m naked, and he’s fully dressed in his button-down and slacks.
The imbalance makes my skin prickle.
“Lie down.”
I climb onto his bed. The sheets are cool against my bare back. I stretch out, and he watches every movement.
He loosens his tie, unbuttons his cuffs, and rolls his sleeves to his elbows.
Then he kneels beside me on the mattress. “Arms above your head.”
I lift them. My wrists rest against the headboard slats.
He wraps the first tie around my right wrist. The silk is smooth and cold. He threads it through the wood. Pulls.
“Too tight?”
The pressure is firm but not painful. “No.”
He knots it and tests the restraint himself. My wrist can’t move more than half an inch.
The second tie goes around my left wrist. Same process. Same careful testing.
When he’s finished, both my arms are stretched overhead, and I can’t lower them.
I pull experimentally. The silk holds.
He tugs once more on the restraint. “Good?”
“Yes.”
He stands, unbuttons his shirt, and removes it completely, draping it over the chair with my clothes. His chest is broad, and his muscles flex when he moves.
His hands go to his belt. The leather slides through the loops with a sound that makes my thighs clench. He unfastens his pants and pushes them down with his boxers, before stepping out of both.
Now we’re both naked, but I’m the one who can’t move.
He climbs back onto the bed and positions himself between my legs.
His palms press my thighs wider apart. “Keep them open.”
“Okay.”
He smirks. “Say yes.”
“Yes.”
He leans down and presses his mouth to my inner thigh. The scrape of his stubble makes me flinch.
He doesn’t move to where I need him. Instead, he kisses up my thigh. Slow. Methodical. Mapping every inch of skin.
I’m getting wetter with each kiss, and the ache between my legs intensifies. My body knows what’s coming and is already preparing. My pussy is slick and swollen and desperate for contact.
When he reaches the crease where my thigh meets my body, he stops.
His breath ghosts over me, so close I can almost feel it against where I’m throbbing.
The anticipation is torturous. Every nerve ending focused on that one spot. Waiting. Needing.
I arch my hips. He pulls back.
“Stay still.”
“Silas,” I beg.
“Stay. Still.”
I force myself to stop moving. My fingers curl around the ties binding my wrists.
He leans in again. This time, his tongue traces the same path his mouth just took, up my inner thigh, stopping just short of my pussy.
“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?”
I can’t answer.
“Since the lake house.” His mouth moves to my other thigh. “Since you walked through that door, and I didn’t recognize you.”
He bites. Not hard enough to hurt. Hard enough that I gasp.
“I wanted you the second I saw you at our cabin.” Another bite. Higher. “And every day after that.”
His tongue finally—finally—finds where I need him.
The first contact makes my hips jerk off the bed. He pins them down with one forearm across my stomach.
“I said, stay still.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.” His mouth returns. “You will.”
He’s not gentle about it. No tentative exploration. He knows exactly what he’s doing and where.
My thighs start shaking within seconds. The restraints keep my hands pinned, so I can’t touch him, can’t guide him, and I can only take what he gives.
And what he gives is relentless. His tongue circles. Flattens. Presses. When I’m gasping, he stops and pulls back completely.
“No.” I pull against the ties. “Don’t stop.”
“I’m not stopping.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m just getting started.”
His fingers replace his mouth. One finger pushing inside. Testing.
“You’re so fucking wet.”
He adds a second finger. No warning. He pushes them both in and curls them immediately.
The angle hits somewhere that blurs my vision.
“There?” He watches my reaction intently.
I can’t form words.
“Answer me, Tania.”
“Yes.”
He withdraws slightly. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, there.”
“Good.” He does it again. “Now I know.”
He’s cataloging my responses, learning what my body responds to.
His mouth returns while his fingers keep working inside me. The combination is too much. I’m already close. The orgasm is building low in my stomach, spreading outward.
“Silas, I’m going to come.”
He stops, pulls his fingers out, and lifts his mouth.
“No.”
A frustrated sound tears out of my throat.
“Not yet.” He kisses my hip bone. “You come when I say.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I don’t care about fair.” His fingers push back inside. “I care about making you beg.”
He builds me up again. Slower this time. More deliberate.
His tongue traces patterns. His fingers curl and press. And every time I get close, he backs off.
Five times.
Six.
By the seventh, I’m pulling so hard against the restraints that the headboard creaks.
“Please.”
“Please, what?”
“Please let me come.”
“Not good enough.” His thumb replaces his tongue, circling. “Beg properly.”
“Please, Silas. Please. I need to come. Please.”
“Look at me.”
I force my eyes open. He’s watching me from between my thighs, and his eyes are dark.
“Don’t look away.”
His mouth returns. His fingers curl. And this time he doesn’t stop.
The orgasm rips through me. Muscles locking. Back arching off the bed. I’m making sounds I don’t recognize, and I can’t look away from him even though I want to close my eyes.
He works me through it, and he doesn’t let up until I’m shaking and oversensitive and trying to close my thighs. Only then does he pull back.
He wipes his mouth again. Then he leans forward and kisses me.
I taste myself on his tongue. And when he pulls back, the expression on his face is feral.
“That was one.” He reaches up and unties my right wrist. Then my left. “I’m not stopping until you’ve come three times.”
My arms drop, and the sudden rush of blood back into my shoulders makes me wince. He notices and takes my right wrist to massage it. He checks my right wrist for damage, then the left.
“Okay?”
“Yes.” I’m better than okay.
He moves up my body and settles his weight between my legs. His cock presses against me, hard and thick. I want him inside me now.
“Condom,” I manage.
“In a minute. We’re not there yet.” He reaches for my breast and circles my nipple with his thumb until it tightens. Then he leans down and takes it in his mouth.
The sensation shoots straight between my legs. He bites gently. Then he bites harder when I arch into him. His hand moves down my stomach, between my legs.
“Still so wet.” He pushes two fingers inside again. “You want my cock?”
“Yes.”
“How badly?”
I can’t form words.
“Tell me.” His voice is low and deep and laced with dark satisfaction.
“I need you to fuck me. Now.”
He pulls his fingers out. Reaches for his nightstand and grabs a condom. He tears it open and rolls it on before he positions his dick at my entrance.
“Look at me.”
I meet his eyes. He pushes inside. Slow. Letting me adjust to his size.
When he’s fully seated, we both stop moving. Then he pulls almost all the way out, pushes back in, and sets a rhythm that’s measured. Controlled.
Every thrust is deliberate.
“Wrap your legs around me.”
I do. The angle changes. He goes deeper.
“Fuck.” The word comes out strained. “You’re being a very good girl.”
The walls of my pussy clench around him with those words.
“Oh, you like that? You like being my good girl?”
“Yes,” I manage to say.
His forearms brace on either side of my head, caging me in. His hips drive forward, and I meet each thrust.
“I’ve wanted this for months.” His mouth finds my neck. “Wanted you under me, pleasuring you with my cock.”
He picks up speed. Harder now. The bed frame hits the wall with each thrust, and my nails dig into his shoulders.
“That’s it.” His hand slides between us and finds where we’re joined. “Come on my dick. Let me feel it.”
His fingers press against me while he keeps fucking me, and the second orgasm builds fast.
When I release, it’s slower and deeper. The orgasm rolls through me in waves that make my thighs shake around his hips.
He doesn’t stop and keeps thrusting through it, drawing it out. When I finally stop shaking, he’s still hard inside me.
“That’s two.” He pulls out. “Turn over.”
I flip onto my stomach. He grabs my hips and pulls them up until I’m on my knees.
“Chest down. Ass up.”
I press my chest into the mattress, and the position leaves me completely exposed. His hand runs down my spine, over the curve of my ass, and between my legs.
“So fucking perfect.”
He positions himself and pushes inside me from behind. This angle is different. Deeper. Almost too much.
I make a sound into the pillow.
“Too much?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He starts moving—one hand gripping my hip, and the other pressing between my shoulder blades, keeping my chest pinned to the bed.
The angle makes every thrust land somewhere on the border of too intense.
“Touch yourself.”
“What?”
“I want you to come again.” His grip tightens on me. “Touch yourself. Make yourself come while I fuck you.”
My hand slides between my legs and finds where we’re joined. He slides in and out while I circle my fingers against myself.
“That’s it.” His breathing is ragged now. “Let me feel you.”
The third orgasm builds more slowly. More intense. My fingers keep moving while he keeps thrusting, and when it finally hits, I’m crying out into the pillow. My body clamps down around him, and he swears.
His rhythm breaks. Three more thrusts, erratic and desperate, and then he’s coming too. We collapse forward, still connected, both trying to breathe.
Eventually, he pulls out and tosses the condom before returning to bed.
He pulls me against his chest, and neither of us speaks for a long moment. His fingers trace the faint marks on my wrists from the ties.
“Too much?” he asks again.
“No.”
His hand moves through my hair. Slow. Soothing. “Good.”
His chest rises with a deep breath. “Stay.”
“I wasn’t planning on leaving.”
“I mean after the year.” His hand stills. “When the contract ends. When the clause is gone, stay anyway.”
“Yes.” And with that one word, our futures have changed entirely.