Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
R en had never moved faster in his life than he did in that moment. He imagined he was practically a blur as he grabbed the cuffs and some rope and dragged her by the hand into his bedroom.
He paused by the bed, giving her time to change her mind if that’s what she needed to do, and took in the view.
God, she was so damn beautiful. He couldn’t believe she was even considering this. Even if she left now, the fact that she’d asked him to fuck her was a miracle.
But she didn’t change her mind. She just looked at the cuffs and rope he’d tossed onto the bed. She cleared her throat. “So…what do I do first?”
His brain short-circuited at all the possibilities. “You’re in control. What do you want to do?”
Her eyes widened. “You mean you were serious about letting me have total control?”
“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. Would you like a suggestion about what you should do first?”
She bit her bottom lip and nodded.
“Tie me up and lose your clothes,” he practically growled. “I don’t think I can go another minute without tasting you.”
Fire rushed to her cheeks, and he worried that his suggestion had been too much, too fast. He was about to backtrack (maybe even beg a little) when she glanced up at him and whispered. “No one has ever done that to me before.”
Surely she didn’t mean what he thought she meant. “You mean?—”
“Oral, OK? No one has ever done that before. I’ve only ever been with Neal, and he didn’t think that was something…normal people did. He thought it was gross.”
Ren was so stunned he had no idea what to do with that information. Should he apologize on behalf of all men? No, that didn’t seem appropriate. Neal didn’t count as a man if he had no interest in this woman, this goddess , sitting on his face. Or should he say “yippee” because he’d be the first to make her come on his tongue?
He was leaning toward “yippee”, frankly.
But again, he didn’t want to scare her off. So, he just shrugged and said, “No time like the present.”
True to form, Lark rose to the challenge. “Well, in that case…take off your shirt.”
Half a second. That was how long it took him to rip his T-shirt over his head and toss it across the room. The hot, hungry look she gave him was great for his ego.
He fucking loved that look.
She swallowed hard. “Get on the bed.”
Holy shit. This is actually happening !
He laid down on the bed. His blood was pumping so hard he thought he might stroke out. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he didn’t want this woman more than his next breath, and now, here she was, looking at him like he was somehow worthy of her.
It was…surreal.
She leaned over him. “Grab the headboard. Then hold still.”
He did as he was told, and she cuffed his hands to the headboard. His eyes hungrily tracked her every move as she grabbed the length of rope. “Spread your legs,” she whispered.
Again, he followed her order without question. He did have to talk her through how to tie good knots as she bound his legs to the bed frame. But he didn’t think of that as taking any of her control. He was just helping.
When she was done and he was spreadeagled on the bed, safely restrained, heart threatening to pound its way out of his chest while his cock was threatening to tear its way out of his pants, he hissed, “Get naked, Lark.”
She cocked her head to one side. “But you’re not in control here. I am.”
Now it was his turn to swallow hard. “Just a suggestion,” he rasped. “Totally up to you.”
The desperation in his voice would probably be hilarious if he wasn’t so hard it was painful. But as it stood, desperation was all he had going for him.
It was probably time for him to admit that after everything he’d been through in his life, everything he’d done, all the risks he’d taken, this was how he was going to die.
And, damn, he couldn’t think of a better way to go.
The wicked smile she gave him when she tossed aside her hoodie and yoga pants was nothing short of lethal. “Well, since it’s totally up to me…”
Ren was panting by the time she unclasped her bra and shimmied out of her panties. God, her body was a work of art. Poetry in motion. The lean muscles, the flawless, rose-tipped breasts that were just big enough to fill his palms, the sharp dip of her hips…he didn’t know much about art. Had never taken the time to study it. But he knew it when he saw it, and she was art.
“Fuck,” he said on a groan. “You’re perfect.”
She eased her way toward him slowly—mercilessly, torturously—and straddled him. He lifted his hips, trying his best to grind his painfully hard cock against her pussy, begging any gods that might be listening to take pity on him and give him the strength to break the handcuffs. At this rate, he’d be damn lucky if he didn’t come in his pants like an overeager teenager.
Still nibbling on her bottom lip, she traced her index finger around his nipple piercing. “Is this…sensitive?”
“Baby, everything is sensitive right now.”
“But I can do anything I want, right?”
“Yes.”
He meant it, too. She could do whatever she wanted. And still he wasn’t prepared for her to lean down, take that barbell between her shiny white teeth and give it a sharp tug. But not even that was as agonizing as the little pleased hum she let out when she did it.
He hissed. “You like torturing me, don’t you?”
The gleam in her eyes was downright evil, and he fucking loved it. “Maybe a little.”
“Look, I’m not telling you what to do. But if you don’t get up here and put that sweet cunt on my face, I might die,” he gritted out.
Her sharp intake of breath was music to his ears. Fuck, if his hands were free, he would’ve already grabbed her and pulled her down, and she’d be halfway to her first orgasm by now.
But as it stood, all he could do was wait while she inched her way up his chest until her hips were hovering above him. She wrapped her hands around the headboard for support. He tried to stay still, but couldn’t quite manage it. Straining against his bonds was inevitable. He might’ve even dislocated his shoulder, if the pain radiating down his arm was any indication. He didn’t care, though. Nothing mattered in that moment other than Lark slowly lowering herself down to his waiting mouth.
She flinched, then moaned at the first swipe of his tongue. “Fuck,” he said through gritted teeth. “You taste so good, baby.”
That’s when she gave up trying to keep her weight off him (thank God) and ground her hips down on his face. Straining against the cuffs and rope, he swiped his tongue up her center, circling her clit with the tip.
Lark jerked above him, crying out, rocking restlessly against him. “Oh, please,” she groaned.
“Please, what, baby?” He sucked her clit into his mouth, doing his best to ignore the ache in his cock. This night wasn’t about him. It was about letting Lark take control of her own pleasure. Besides, making her come on his tongue would undoubtedly be the greatest privilege of his life. He couldn’t think of a single fucking thing he’d ever done to deserve this honor.
But he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to take it.
She shifted her hands from the headboard into his hair. “Oh…fuck…please make me…”
He could only assume she’d been about to say come , because that’s when her body stiffened against him. Her thighs clamped around his head, and she wailed his name, long and loud enough that anyone listening would think he was killing her.
In that moment, the taste of her, the feel of her, the sound of her…it was his air. She was the only thing he needed to survive.
That’s when he realized he’d miscalculated. He thought he’d be able to give her pleasure and keep emotions out of it. He thought if she wanted nothing to do with him when this whole mess was sorted out, he’d be strong enough to let her go.
What a joke.
He’d had one taste of her. That was all he’d needed to know the truth.
There was no walking away. Not for either of them.
Mine .
Lark collapsed, panting and sweating, on the bed next to Ren.
She’d had orgasms before. They were always pleasant. Especially the ones she’d given herself. But what she’d just experienced? What Ren had just given her?
Life altering.
She’d come so hard that every muscle in her body had clamped down. She’d come so hard she was pretty sure she was dehydrated. Could she even feel her legs anymore? Maybe. But only a little.
Ruined. That’s what she was. She was officially ruined for all other men. That thought should probably scare the crap out of her.
But it didn’t. Not in the slightest.
“What’s next, baby?” he asked.
She wasn’t normally a fan of nicknames. Neal calling her doodlebug had made sure of that. But she liked it when Ren called her baby.
She liked it a lot .
Which didn’t necessarily mean she was ready to give up control just yet. Not when she was having so much fun.
Instead, under his very watchful eyes, she got up and slowly untied his ankles. The hitch in his breath when she shifted to unbutton his jeans made her own breathing quicken in response.
Then it stalled out entirely when she tugged his pants down and realized he wasn’t wearing any underwear.
Holy. Fuck .
She busied herself with getting the pants off his ankles and tossing them onto the floor while she gathered her courage. Could she really do this? Could she leave him cuffed to the bed and have her way with him?
Glancing up—and up and up—the length of thick thighs, she finally got her first look at his cock.
Yep. She could definitely do this. The only question was whether she could take all of that into her body without it rearranging her uterus.
But that was a risk she was ready to take.
Very, very ready.
“Tell me what you want,” he rasped.
She laid a hand on the center of his chest and raised a challenging brow at him. “Is that an order?”
He closed his eyes and cussed under his breath. “ Please .”
Now that was more like it. “I want you to watch me. I want your eyes on mine, got it?”
His eyes were a little glazed, but his gaze was hot enough to scorch her as he nodded his agreement.
“Good,” she murmured as she leaned down and wrapped her lips around his rock-hard cock.
In that moment, Lark knew what Ren must feel like all the time. To be so strong, so powerful, so…unbeholden to anyone. And he’d willingly—eagerly, even—had turned all that power over to her. It was intoxicating.
So was the heat of his skin, the taste of him on her tongue, the raw rasp of his breathing as he watched her work the length of him with her mouth and hand. When she sucked harder, hollowing out her cheeks, he choked out a harsh breath.
“Jesus Christ, Lark,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “You’re gonna kill me.”
She shivered at the pure, raw, animal need she heard in his voice as he helplessly thrust up into her mouth.
It was then she realized her control over him was a double-edged sword. The control she was so enjoying was also depriving her of his touch. And after having experienced how good he was with his tongue, she imagined his touch would be nothing short of blissful.
Just thinking about it made her clit ache so much it hurt. Reminded her of how empty and physically starved for attention she’d been over the past few years—and how long it had been since anything other than a silicone vibrator and her own fingers had been inside her.
She pulled back, licking her lips as she crawled up his body and…unlocked his cuffs.
If she lived to be a hundred, she’d never forget the feral, hungry, damn near lethal look he gave her. “Say it,” he hissed, jaw tighter than she’d ever seen it.
Lark swallowed hard. “I need you to fuck me. Now.”
She let out an involuntary squeal when he reversed their positions, flipping her onto her back, pinning her to the mattress with his superior weight and strength. “You’re going to need a safe word.”
In her mind, she did a little fist pump. About fucking time!