Chapter 49 #2
“Green,” I breathe, and I mean it. I know he won’t hurt me. And with every slap, I can feel the tension pouring out of him.
Grabbing my hips, he spins me around. My slip twists above me. The beam creaks.
Dropping to his knees, he scoops both my legs over his shoulders and kisses me. I buck against his mouth. My hands fisting, I grab the silk holding me up. I want to touch him. I want to hold his hair in my hands, pin him to me, and swear I’ll never give him reason not to trust me again.
His tongue licks between my lips. I arch on a moan as he eats me out like I’m his last meal on death row.
His fingers digging hard into my ass, he bites my pussy.
Sharp pain mixes with pleasure. Turning his head, he sinks his teeth into my thigh.
I cry out, knowing he’s bruising me, marking me, maybe even breaking the skin.
His tongue sweeps over the pain. It trails to my pussy in soft licks that leave me weak.
“My king,” I breathe, close to the edge of orgasm.
His spanks my ass as his tongue dips all the way inside. He thrusts in and out of me as he rains slap after slap down on my aching skin.
Twisting against my bindings, my hands opening and closing as I desperately wish to hold him, I lift my hips and press my clit against his face.
But as soon as I start to rub myself against him, he pulls back. Breathing heavily, he drops my legs off his shoulders and stands. Grabbing my jaw tight in his hand, he squeezes it.
“Bad girls don’t get to come,” he sneers. Leaning down, he kisses me hard. His teeth scrape against my bottom lip. When he sucks my tongue into his mouth, I jerk back from the pain. It’s surprisingly sharp.
Grabbing my chin, he pulls me back to him and does it again. I flinch, the pain bringing tears to my eyes.
But it’s the knowledge that he did it deliberately, that he wants to hurt me for the purpose of hurting me that makes my heart skip a beat. That makes my skull pound with fear.
When he sucks it a fourth time, really freaking hard, I rip my face out of his grip on a cry. My bruised heart lodges in my throat.
“Red,” I pant meekly, hating that I have to. Hating that I don’t trust him to stop on his own.
He pulls back to look me in the eyes.
I glance away, ashamed that I stopped him from doing what he needs to do.
Rubbing his cheek against mine, my king nudges my head back up. He peppers little kisses across my skin. Soft and loving and tender.
Forgive me, they seem to say. The tension that has been radiating off him since he entered my rooms slowly starts to dissipate.
“I’m sorry I didn’t check in with you,” he says as he runs his tongue down my neck. “But you need to tell me too. You never mentioned yellow.”
I tremble beneath his caresses, puzzled by the sudden softness he’s expressing and tensing in fear of the pain to come.
“Tell me what turned it into a red,” he says, his hands trailing up my body to feather across my breasts.
A tear slips down my check. I tremble harder. The binds suddenly feel too tight. Too restricting. Making me too vulnerable to a man that wants to hurt me, to really punish me for almost killing him.
I tug against the beam as another tear slides free. My breaths come faster, my pulse just as quick.
Cursing, he lifts me up and wraps my legs around his waist. “Hold on to me,” he says. “Give your arms a break.” He runs his cheek across mine again, like a cat searching for comfort. “Hey, look at me.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see the rage and fury in his. The monster that wants to hurt me.
Stroking my back, he digs his fingers into my shoulder blades, massaging the muscles there, forcing me to relax physically if not mentally.
Slowly, I peek at his eyes and suck in a ragged breath when I see tenderness radiating back at me.
“You’re not mad?” I ask, confused and hurt and still on the edge of being afraid. If he isn’t mad, why did he hurt me?
“I am but not because you called red. I’m mad at myself for not checking in, and I’m upset you didn’t call yellow first.” He kisses me, a quick peck on the lips.
“This is about trust, Arienna, building trust, and we can’t do that without communication.
” He runs a hand through my hair, cupping the side of my face. “Do you understand?”
“You hurt me,” I murmur. “On purpose.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Glancing away, he exhales roughly. “To punish you.” His eyes meet mine again. “When I woke up and Jace told me what you did… I wanted to hurt you like you did me. An eye for an eye.”
“I deserve it,” I say softly.
“No, you don’t,” he says firmly. “But my frustration is still there. It doesn’t go away just because I’ve decided to forgive you.”
“Why are you forgiving me?” I ask, so afraid of the answer being that he needs me for Raza. For something else. For anything other than just me.
He kisses me softly, his lips moving against mine. When his tongue brushes against me, I struggle not to recoil. But he doesn’t force his way in. He just rubs my lip in between his until I’m panting for him.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he slides his tongue inside my mouth. As he strokes it against mine, I can feel the silent apology in his touch. In his kiss.
My hands twist in my bindings, wanting to touch him, needing to touch him.
Running his hands down my back, he kneads the tender skin of my ass. When he lifts his head from mine, I chase after him, wanting more of this gentle sweetness.
“For the same reason you decided not to kill me, I imagine,” he says, making my heart jolt and then quicken.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I look him in the eyes and see all my love looking back at me.
Guarded though.
Uncertain.
Leaning forward, I try to kiss him, but he moves his head back. “Do you want to stop the scene?” he asks.
I pause, not sure which one I want more – the gentleness or the punishment. The former is amazing, but it feels off… distant. Like he’s restraining himself in order to give me what I want. But the latter… the latter feels like him.
Him giving us a second chance.
Him working through the emotions he is dealing with.
It feels like a building of trust. Of a future.
Taking a deep breath, I lift my chin and hold his gaze. “Green,” I say strongly before sticking out my tongue.
A slow grin curves his lips.
Cupping my face with both hands, he takes my tongue in his mouth and sucks just hard enough to cause a bit of pain. But it isn’t as sharp as it was before. Shuddering beneath him, I nod when he pulls back to look at me.
After a second of silence, he removes my legs from around his waist and steps back. “Tell me what you’re being punished for,” he demands, an edge to his voice that makes me shiver.
“For breaking your trust.”
“And will you break it again?” Bending down, my king picks up the belt he dropped.
“No.”
The sharp bite of the leather slapping against my thigh has me jerking against the binds.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He hits me again, this time on my other leg. “Are you lying?”
“No.”
Holding my gaze, he wraps the belt around his fist. The buckle ends up on the back of his knuckles.
My pulse spikes. Swallowing, I try not to tremble. When he raises his hand, I flinch but don’t cower, wanting to take the pain. Needing to take it. Because as much as he claims I don’t deserve a beating, I feel as if I do. I hurt him. Almost killed him. I have to pay for that.
But his hand comes down softly on my cheek. The cold touch of metal scrapes against my skin but not enough to bite. He trails it down my neck. It’s only when he gets to my breasts that he digs the prong in deep enough to scratch.
When I jerk from the sting, he grabs my breast painfully. “Colour?” he demands.
I close my eyes, trying to sort through my feelings. The previous fear. The current excitement. The want and need to trust him. No, not the want, I realise. I already trust him. I trust him not to hurt me.
Opening my eyes, I look into the searching gaze of his own. “Green,” I say softly.
His face fills with emotions that leave me breathless. With raw need, shock, and awe in his eyes, my king leans forward to peck my lips. Then he drops his gaze and says, “Don’t move.”
Fisting the silk holding me up, I clench my jaw and try to obey. He carves a bloody curve into my skin, and my breath catches when I realise he’s drawing an R.
An M follows it.
Richard Morningstar.
My body is his.
“Tell me who owns these tits.”
I swallow, working my tongue around my mouth. “You.”
Dragging his belt-wrapped fist down my body, he stops at the top of my pussy. The bite of the prong cuts into me again. I fist my hands, trying not to move.
“Tell me who owns this pussy.”
“You.”
Again, he carves his initials into my skin.
Turning his hand over, he trails his fingers between my lips. The leather belt moves roughly over my skin, chaffing my thighs. Holding my gaze, he moves his hand harder. Faster. Punishing me.
“Colour?” he demands.
“Green,” I gasp, finding pleasure in the pain, in the way he’s watching me. How he’s studying me to make sure I’m okay.
My hips begin to move with him. My eyes grow hooded. Removing his hand, he leaves me panting.
“Bad girls don’t get to come, do they?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“And have you been a bad girl?” He uncoils the belt. As it drops to the floor, I nod.
Raising it, he whips it across my breasts.
I scream and jerk against my binds. The beam creaks above me. My eyes water. My chest rises and falls rapidly, and even that hurts.
“Colour?”
“Yellow.”
He smiles. Leaning in, he kisses me as if he loves me. His tongue strokes inside my mouth, making me pant. His lips rub against mine, making me wet. Desperate.
“You’ve done so well, my queen,” my king says as he pulls away. “Are you ready to stop being a bad girl?”
I nod, my eyes fastened on his.
“Then pick a number.”
My breath escapes on a whimper. Our time in the tunnel feels like forever ago. A time before he was poisoned. Before what we started to have was ripped apart. Before the pain in his eyes was put there because of me.
“Seventeen,” I breathe.
He studies me for a moment, as if he’s not certain if he should continue.
“Seventeen,” I say again, needing this new beginning for us.
His jaw ticks. Nodding sharply, he raises the belt. My eyes widen as he whips it across my chest. I jerk out of instinct, but it doesn’t hurt anywhere near as badly as the previous one.
“Count them,” he says.
My voice shaking, I say, “One.”
He raises the belt again.
Hissing in a breath, I say, “Two.”
The third one makes me cry out. The fourth one makes me scream. But he never does too many heavy ones in a row. He helps me – helps us get to sixteen, showing me that all I have to do is trust him.
Trust him so hard I can barely breathe.
My pussy clenches. My body vibrates with expectancy of the next blow but also with hope of a new beginning.
“Colour?” he demands, flexing the belt at his side.
Seeing everything we could be together, I say, “Green.”
Flicking his wrist, he cracks the belt through the air as he raises it. He’s testing my resolve. My trust.
My pulse spikes. My body tenses. But I hold his fucking gaze.
In one quick movement, he snaps the belt across my flesh. He hits hard enough to cut through skin. Screaming, with tears pooling in my eyes, I sag against my binds. My orgasm rips through me so hard and fast and unexpectedly, I feel as if I’m going to pass out.
Richard’s hands are on me in an instant. Lifting my ass, he slams his cock into me. My pussy clenches around him, squeezing him tight and holding him close. He pulls out, then slams back in. Grabbing my throat, he kisses me hard.
He squeezes me until I cannot breathe.
He fucks me until I cannot think.
His teeth bite into my shoulder. His hands massage my breasts. Then his arms are wrapping around me, holding me down onto his cock. His head falls back, and he groans. “My queen,” falls off his lips.