Chapter 83 #2
She squirms in my arms, her ankles trapped under my feet, keeping her in place, so she resorts to thrusting her hips, trying to inch my fingers lower so they make contact, but I keep teasing her until she lets out a desperate whimper.
My mouth finds her ear again at the same time my fingers slide down an inch, forcing out a squeal at the sudden burst of sensations as I finally give in to her. “Ready for number two?”
There’s no hesitation this time; my hand is still around her throat, but she nods her head quickly. “Please—fuck—please, I need it.”
Working my fingers around, I slide my thumb inside her and enjoy the sharp cries when it finds the other side of her clit.
She comes again, screaming louder this time.
I release my grip on her throat to hold her chin.
Sliding two fingers into her mouth, her choked-out screams cut off when her lips close around them and she sucks.
And dear god, I nearly come in my jeans, my jaw clenching so hard it aches, continuing to stroke her until her body sags against mine and she goes limp.
I release her, leaving her lying on the mattress, naked and spent. She’s on her stomach with her eyes closed; she doesn’t see me go for my top drawer, doesn’t see me pull the ribbons out.
The bed shifts under me when I climb on top of her; it’s too late by the time I grab hold of each of her wrists, pinning them at her back.
She thrashes in surprise, and I sink deeper, easing more of my weight onto her to keep her trapped underneath me.
Carefully, I wind the ballet ribbons I stole from her bag around each wrist, binding her tight.
The smooth satin kisses her skin, but the high-quality fabric refuses to give as she twists—testing the knot—struggling against it.
I roll her onto her back so I can see her face. It’s a tense mixture of surprise, anger, and fear as she still fights against the ties. When she inches for the edge of the bed, I grab hold of one ankle, tugging hard so that she falls back, dragging her toward me.
“What—what the hell?” Her voice trembles slightly with shock and apprehension. “You tied me up?”
“Aye, can’t have you trying to run off now, not when we’re about to go for number three?”
Her mouth drops, and she shakes her head, body tensing. “I can’t—not again.”
“I told you. You’re not leaving this bed until you know exactly how sorry I am. Not until I’ve decided you’ve had enough.”
She gulps, watching me as I move back toward my top drawer, careful not to put my back to her, certain she’s about to bolt. Her eyes widen, face paling at the same time her cheeks flush a bright pink when she catches sight of what I’ve pulled out.
“That’s not—”
“Yours?” I smile, holding up the wand I stole from her bedside table back at her apartment. Her throat tightens, fear flashes in her eyes, but so does anticipation.
“You’ve been making yourself come with this thing by yourself for too long. It’s my turn now.”
Briar’s eyes go black, and a little shiver travels through her. “You’re insane.”
I tilt my head as I take a step toward her. “Maybe,” I admit, smirking at the way she squirms when her eyes drop back to the toy in my hands. “But you like it.”
Reaching her, I drop one of my hands to graze my fingers against the skin of her inner thigh, and she quivers. My fingers travel higher, and her breath hitches.
“Look at me.”
She doesn’t.
“Briar.”
The sound of her name brings up her eyes. “If you want me to stop, tell me to stop. And I will,” I promise her. “But I have a feeling—” I lean in, switching on the wand and pressing it to her already soaking cunt, “—you won’t.”
Briar’s eyes widen, her back arching involuntarily at the feel of the wand against her, the low hum vibrating through her, her mouth forming a small O as she pants out, “Oh, fuck.”
I tease the wand just over her entrance, keeping it far away from the little bundle of nerves at the top. Without warning, I pull the wand back so it no longer touches her skin.
“Wider.” I tap the wand between her thighs, watching intently to see what she’ll do. If she’ll continue to resist and ask me to stop, or if she’ll submit. If she’ll beg me for it.
Her hips chase the missing wand, and she lets out a groan of disappointment at the sudden loss of pleasure.
Blue eyes stare up into mine as she makes her decision, lifting her chin when she spreads her legs wider, helpless with her hands bound behind her back.
Her breasts push forward, rising and falling with her breaths as she waits to see what I’ll do next.
Bringing the wand back down, I drag it in slow, deliberate circles, rewarding her obedience, enjoying the way her back arches off the mattress; her body squirms as she chases the wand, trying to get me to stay where she wants me.
Each time the wand passes over her sensitive little clit, engorged and tender, her body tenses, going rigid, and her eyes roll back with the pleasure it brings—the wand working too well to bring her close again until I pull it away.
By the third time I’ve teased her, working her up just to drag it away again, she whimpers, fighting against the ribbons binding her wrists together, needing that release.
She’s distracted when I flip her onto her stomach, my fingers wrapping around the ribbon holding hers, and drag her back until she’s on her knees, facing away from me.
I drive the wand in between her thighs and she screams, falling forward into the mattress, that perfect pussy propped up for me to play with.
This time I bring her right to the edge until her body is shaking with her need for release before I slip the wand down, and she nearly screams, “No!”
“Beg for it.” My voice is quiet, dark, but I know, by the way she tenses, she heard it.
She tests her restraints again, her hands shifting where they’re trapped at her back, keeping her wrapped up like a pretty present, and she flexes on her knees. Pushing the sensitive apex of her thighs higher, trying to find the tip of my wand.
Slowly, deliberately, I drag the wand farther away from where she needs it before I repeat my words, even darker this time. “Beg for it.”
She doesn’t—at war with herself, on her knees, face first in my bed.
I drive the wand over her again, giving her just enough that she trembles, and just as I go to pull it away again, I hear her voice, “Please! Please—I need it—I, I can’t take it!”
I move the wand in a circle, giving and taking, until she’s panting, ”Koen.
” My hand stops at the sound of my name; I’m fixated on the way it sounds strangled under her breath.
“Koen—please—” she begs, and I relent. Fisting her hair, I drive her head deeper into the mattress as I give her what she wants, muffling her screams with my sheets.
Her legs spread wider as she climaxes, her clit throbbing desperately under the wand.
Briar’s screams grow louder, and her chest heaves as she pants, moans mixing with sobs as the force of her climax rips through her, the pent-up frustration from my continued edging lets go all at once, overwhelming her.
“Please—please—” she screams, twisting to get away from the wand, fighting under my hold, this time begging for a whole new reason.
“It’s too much!” Another scream rips through her as another wave of climax leaves her body trembling.
But my grip on her hair only tightens, pushing her face deeper into the mattress, clicking the button on the wand and bringing it up another level.
“Beg me all you want, baby; you know I don’t show mercy.”
Strangled cries escape her, tangled with moans, as I work her through her orgasm, forcing her to stay right there, to ride it out; she’s both desperate for it and desperate to escape it. I give her everything I denied her—made her wait for.
“No, no, no, please! I can’t—it’s too much! I—”
I flip her over so she’s on her back. “You can,” I assure her, looking into her blue eyes before kissing her neck, then moving lower and taking one of her breasts in my mouth, my tongue flicking over the sensitive little bud, loving the way she arches under me, pushing more of her into my mouth.
I press the wand harder, relentlessly, mercilessly, watching as she comes apart. She’s a frantic, panting, whimpering mess, begging me with her eyes, but even as she begs me—pleads with me—she doesn’t tell me to stop.
So I don’t.
Briar squirms and thrashes; screams and sobs erupt out of her as she tries to shake me off of her sensitive clit.
Her climax follows in quick succession after the third—hard, violent—her body shaking uncontrollably while her eyes roll back.
And when I finally release her, switching off the toy, her body sags in quick relief, no resistance left.
I leave her lying there, hands still trapped behind her back, her breaths coming hard, but she’s looking at me, staring me down as I slowly remove my belt, freeing myself as I slide my jeans down, kicking them to the side.
My cock twitches under her scrutiny, yearning to claim her, to be inside of her.
“One more.” I kiss her lips, leaving her chasing after me when I pull away again to speak. “This time, you come with me.”
I reach behind her, carefully untethering the knot that holds her hands, freeing them, freeing her.
“I’ve taken too much from you already,” I whisper.
My need for her—I can feel it, the tension in my chest, the ache in my cock, the inexplicable urge to claim her as mine.
“This—this has to be yours. Not because I need it. Not because I can’t hold myself back for another second.
But I want you to choose me, even after everything I’ve done.
I want to make you mine, but I won’t steal that from you.
If you want me inside you, if you want me, I need you to tell me.
If not…” My forehead falls against hers and my eyes close, inhaling her sweet scent, savoring this moment, the feeling of her breath against my skin.
“Say it?” I whisper, so low my voice is like a ghost against her skin—this time, it’s not a demand, but a question.
For a moment, she just looks at me, really looks, and I let her. I let her see everything.
“I want you,” she whispers. Her hand comes up to cup my face as she reaches in to kiss me. “Even if it breaks me. I want you.”
The second the words leave her lips, something inside me shatters.
For the longest time, I’ve been closed off, cut off from my emotions, behind a wall I’d built so high I thought I’d never see the other side.
That is, until I met Briar. With her, I feel everything, every emotion, every ounce of pain—hurt, happiness… love.
I kiss her with the kind of urgent tenderness that tests the edges of my restraint. Her arms come up and wrap around me, her body arching up into mine.
“Christ, you’ll be my undoing,” I breathe out before I kiss her again, the world narrowing to the feel of her soft lips on mine, her hands in my hair, around my neck, the warmth of her body when she grinds up against me.
I ease into her carefully, reverently, like she is glass in my arms. When I finally enter her, it’s not the brutal claiming she expected, but something deeper—slower—every movement, every thrust, threaded with apology.
I kiss her jaw, her throat, each of her wrists I’d bound in satin, murmuring words between ragged breaths, “I’m sorry… you’re mine… I’ll make it right…”
Briar clings to me, her soft cries not torn from her this time, but given, willing offerings that light my chest on fire.
I work her up slowly, patiently, her body meeting mine as if she’s finally giving in, letting herself fall, surrendering herself to me.
And when she comes, it’s not violent, not frantic like it was before; it’s more of a slow burn, a sweet, torturous release that has her moaning my name like it’s a prayer.
And when it’s over, I don’t let go. I stay inside her, running the tips of my fingers down her arm, not wanting to let her go, afraid if I do—even for a second—she’ll disappear.
“I’ll keep paying—atoning,” I whisper, kissing her forehead, my voice raw. “Every time you need me, I’ll be here. I promise.”
It doesn’t make it right—the dark things I’ve done. How I abandoned her, stalked her, tortured her when I thought she had betrayed me—but it’s a start.
Finally, I pull out of her, careful not to crush her when I move to the side. And when she curls up against me, exhausted, her body relaxed in a way I’ve never felt, my arms tighten around her, pulling her closer—not in a possessive way, but protective—holding her until she falls asleep.