Chapter 11 #3
A few minutes later, I’m sitting cross-legged on his couch, a spread of food in front of us. Greasy, messy chicken wings, hot, salted fries, and sticky rice. None of it belongs together, but I want all of it.
"Hands off,” he says.
I blink at him. "What?"
"Put your hands behind your head."
I stare at him, but his face is pure control. Cold, quiet authority. I do it. My fingers are laced behind my head like I’m under arrest, my chest arching just a little. His eyes flick down and back up.
“You just want my nipples pushing against this tee, don’t you?”
With a noncommittal grunt, he picks up a wing.
I expect him to pass it to me. He doesn’t. He holds it up to my mouth, and for one long second, we both just breathe.
"Open."
I do.
He slides the meat between my lips, slowly, watching every second like he’s committing it to memory. I take a bite, tongue flicking out to catch the sauce, and his pupils blow wide.
"Good girl," he murmurs.
Mmm. I like that.
He wipes his thumb along my lower lip, collecting a streak of sauce, and holds it up like a dare. Without thinking, I lean forward and lick his thumb.
His breath hitches.
My tongue flicks along the calloused pad, tasting salt and grease. I mean to pull back after, but his free hand tangles in my hair and holds me there—his thumb slipping deeper, just past my lips.
"Messy little thing," he mutters.
I bite down on his thumb, just enough to make him feel it—and his control slips, just a crack. He drags it along my tongue before pulling away.
"You like teasing me," he says, low and dark.
"You like feeding me," I shoot back.
His smile is sharp enough to cut. "You’ve got no idea."
He picks up a fry next, dragging it slowly through the pool of ketchup, and brings it to my mouth. I take it—lips brushing his fingers, sucking the salt right off his skin. He watches, transfixed.
"More," I whisper.
He feeds me rice next, and I take it from his fingers, deliberately licking the grains off his skin one by one, my tongue tracing each knuckle. His breathing turns rough, his jaw tight. It’s messy and raw, and I’m loving every second.
"Careful," he warns.
"Or what?"
He shakes his head in response. “I won’t be able to hold myself back anymore, and we’ll have to skip dessert.”
His voice is all gravel and promise.
"Depends. What’s on the menu?"
I didn’t order dessert.
He grabs my ankles, dragging me down the couch until I’m sprawled beneath him. My shirt rides up, and his hand slides along my bare thigh, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles.
Oh.
He bends his head and kisses me hard, licking into my mouth like he’s still feeding me—like he’s tasting the salt and grease and hunger right off my tongue. I moan into him, fingers curling in his hair, dragging him closer and closer.
His mouth leaves mine, sliding down my throat, teeth grazing my pulse before he drags my thighs apart and settles between them.
"Hands back behind your head again,” he growls. "And stay fucking still."
I obey, but my breath is ragged. My pulse races under his mouth as he kisses lower.
"You gonna lick me like you did the fries?" I whisper.
He flashes a wicked smile. "I’m gonna do a lot more than that, little ghost."
And then his mouth is on me, and I forget all about food.
He spreads my thighs, slow but deliberate, fingers digging into my skin just enough to make sure I know who owns me now.
"You were teasing me," he murmurs, lips trailing fire down the inside of my thigh. "Licking my fingers like you wanted to be fed something else."
My breath stutters, my hands aching to touch him. He notices.
"Keep them there," he orders, his voice sharp. My hips jerk, moving close to him, desperate for pressure, for him to taste me.
I let out a shaky exhale, arching slightly against the couch. He’s still fully dressed. I’m half-naked.
His mouth ghosts over the crease of my thigh, where the skin is sensitive. He bites, just enough to make my legs jerk. Enough to leave marks. I stifle a moan.
Matvei hums against me, as though he likes the way I react… like he’s already memorizing it.
He licks right next to where I want him, teasing. I feel my arousal dripping.
I won’t beg. Nope.
But oh my god, in my mind, I am screaming. I want his tongue, I need pressure, I need—
Ahhh.
His tongue flicks over the bite—soft, soothing, making me shiver—and then lower, pressing wet heat right where I need him most.
I moan. I can’t help it. My god, it feels like heaven.
Matvei groans against me, his grip on my thighs tightening like he wants to bruise me there and keep me spread open forever.
He works me over slowly at first, with long, lazy, torturous licks, his tongue flat and unyielding. I want to grab his hair and force him deeper, rougher. I want to make him lose control.
I know he’s waiting for me to break first.
He flattens his tongue and drags it up, slow and deep, one hand moving between my legs so he can curl his fingers inside me.
Oh fuck.
I whimper.
"That’s it," he praises, and fuck, his voice alone is enough to ruin me. "That’s right, little ghost. Let me hear you."
He wraps his lips around my clit and sucks, and I don’t just moan this time—I cry out.
Matvei growls in approval, pressing me down when my hips jerk. He’s holding me open for him, keeping me there so he can take his time.
I don’t want time. I want him to devour me.
"Matvei—"
He bites me again. Punishing.
It’s harder this time, right on the inside of my thigh, where no one else will ever see. Where only he will know.
I swear I almost black out. The pain, the pleasure, the possessiveness of it—it’s all too much and not enough.
He licks over the bite, soothing it, then moves back between my legs, tongue flicking, teasing, circling.
"More," I beg.
He groans like he’s the one unraveling, and then he gives it to me.
He eats me like a man starved.
The suction, the flick of his tongue, the scrape of his teeth—it’s all too much. My back bows, my fingers knotting together behind my head, my body straining toward him as heat coils low, tighter, tighter…
"That’s it," he rasps against me, his voice dark and wrecked. "Come for me, little ghost. Come on my mouth."
And I do.
Hard.
He doesn’t let up. He keeps working me through it, lapping and sucking until I’m sensitive and boneless.
“I can’t—it’s too much. Too much. Please stop, I can’t— Please—”
Then, finally, he pulls back, his gaze on me wicked and cruel. “I told you to stay in that room, didn’t I?”
Oh shit.
His lips are slick, his breath heavy. But his eyes—those dark, greedy eyes—stay locked on me as he licks his lips.
“Maybe you did,” I say in a small voice. He bends and licks my sensitized clit. I cry out.
“No maybe,” he growls, biting the inside of my thigh. “I told you to stay, and you didn’t. Naughty, naughty little ghost.”
And then his teeth are on my clit again, scraping against the sensitive skin, and I know intuitively that moving my hands will compound my punishment. I jerk my hips, trying to squirm out of his grip, but he holds me tight, fingers digging into my skin hard enough to leave marks.
“Bad girls get punished.” He breathes against my thigh before he plunders my pussy. He licks my core, groaning as he laps up my arousal, then drags his tongue to my clit again, suckling hard.
My hips arch. It’s too much, too sensitive, bordering on painful.
Releasing my clit, he licks lazy, slow circles over and over, and now… now I want more. Now I need more. I can feel another climax rising. I whimper, a spasm of ecstasy rippling through me until he licks me again, and I fall apart.
This time, when I come, I shatter, breathless. Ecstasy floods my limbs. I scream until I’m hoarse, and still, he licks and sucks until I fall, slumped against the couch.
“Did you learn your lesson?” he growls, his breath hot between my legs. He gives me one more warning swipe of his tongue. I stifle a scream.
“Yes, yes, god, okay,” I say in a rush of words so he doesn’t decide to push my body to the point of breaking. My god.
“Good,” he says. “Because it’s bedtime.”
I nod my head.
Bed. Yes. Bed.
We walk up the stairs to his bedroom. I’m boneless as he holds me, pressed up to his chest, carrying me as if I weigh nothing at all.
It’s dark, but for some reason, bright lights illuminate one corner of the room. Are those… fairy lights? In Matvei’s room?
But as we draw nearer, I see. I shake my head and huff out a laugh.
“Aw. Just like old time’s sake.”
“Just like old time’s sake,” he repeats as he kicks open the cage he first used to capture me and lays me on a soft, thick mattress. “Sleep well, little ghost.”
The metal door clicks with an audible snap. The lock is the last thing I hear before I close my eyes to sleep.