46. Chapter Forty-Six Prey for Peace
Chapter Forty-Six: Prey for Peace
Tess
I must have fallen asleep after the next orgasm because when I opened my eyes, his arms were wrapped around me. There was still no light coming in through the window. I searched for a clock but got distracted by the feel of his hard abs against my palm. His skin radiated heat as I stroked my hand over him, the sensation building in my core again. I pulled it away; a lifetime of not being able to touch anyone had turned my hands into erogenous zones.
We’d teleported here from the house he shared, but I didn’t know where either was located. We could have been in Paris for all I knew. I sat up, surveying the landscape through the window, hoping to see something familiar. I hoped we were in Crimson City and I could walk home before he even knew I was gone .
He curled an arm around my waist, pulling me in tighter. Instinctively, I tugged away, a light struggle for freedom. He growled.
I sighed. “I have to go home now, Maverick.”
“No,” he mumbled into the pillow.
“Excuse me? I’m sorry, I can’t stay all night.”
He lifted his head and met my eye. I lifted my eyebrow, hoping he’d understand. Without a word, he jumped on top of me, holding my wrists over my head. His eyes shone red. “You’re not leaving,” he rumbled.
I pursed my lips. Was this guy for real? “Kidnapping for the win, huh?”
His expression softened, and he let up his grip on my wrists a little. “I just… I think you need… one more…” With one hand on my chest, holding me in place, he did a little swirly motion with the other. My wrists instantly felt anchored. I couldn’t move them.
“What kind of magic is that?” I whispered. He inched his way down, nudging his knees between my legs. “No, Maverick, I can’t. I already came a hundred times tonight. I just want to go home and sleep in my own bed now.”
“Not yet,” he mumbled against my belly. “It was only five times, but a hundred is a good target.” The rough scrape from the stubble on his cheek sent my pulse higher again. Or maybe it was the suggestion that he would hold me captive in his bed until he gave me a hundred orgasms. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
Panicked and… wet, apparently.
I twisted my neck to look up at what was restraining my hands, but I couldn’t see anything but shadows. His dominance was a double-edged thing for me. I reveled in it, but having been someone else’s plaything for so long, I didn’t want to jump right back into that kind of dynamic. He did it all so much better than Ivan, though. All my orgasms with Ivan were self-inflicted and weak in comparison, for one.
Maverick licked a long, languorous stroke from my ass to my clit, and I convulsed, bucking against his face and moaning like a pornstar.
“Damn it, Maverick. No. Fuck, don’t stop.”
“I’m never going to stop doing things to your body that make sounds like that come out of you.” He lapped at my pussy, the growls from deep in his throat adding to the buzzing through my overstimulated core. I couldn’t grasp at the bedsheets, all tethered up like this. I couldn’t bite the corner of the pillow either. All I could do was screech and whine like a vulgar banshee as he lapped at my clit and pumped two curled fingers into me. He devoured me like a starving demon. So far, I’d seen nothing of his icy reputation; that dauntless enigma was just a face with a much more complex and chewy center. The lewd slurping and growling sounds he made clawed at my desire.
My legs trembled, my chest heaved. The wet, squelching from the pulsing of his fingers in and out of my quivering channel built a more demanding hunger inside me until I thought I might cry.
I had to come, but it was too much. I had nothing left to give. This was torture. Why couldn’t I come? I needed release—now. “Please,” I cried. Bucking my hips up, grinding against his face with no shame, I let out a long whine, begging for relief until, finally, when I thought I’d die, I exploded, spurting all over his face. Screaming until my throat was raw.
He refused to let up, except to praise me as my intense orgasm kept on and on. And on. “That’s it, monstre… Good girl… Good fucking girl,” he mumbled against my folds as he continued lapping away at me .
I was red hot with embarrassment at the mess I’d made all over him when he popped his head up, grinning at me. “How’s it going now? You wanna stay the night?”
I glared at him, overheated and overwhelmed with shame, but he didn’t seem to notice.
With a shake of his head and a mock frown, he sighed. “Nope. Not yet. Again.” He dipped his head back down, licking me some more.
“No,” I yelped, trying to wriggle away, but I couldn’t move. He kept at me, sucking and swirling his tongue around my overstimulated clit like it was the first time rather than the unquantifiable number of orgasms he’d already given me. I screamed and writhed, begging for mercy. I hated it, but the exquisite pain felt deserved. It was mine and mine alone. Always a part of me.
It stripped me bare, and even though I never stopped begging him to stop, I erupted again. This time, a cold and broken sputter, tears streaming down my face, flowing with snot and spit. I couldn’t even open my eyes, ashamed of myself, of how I must have looked, of what my body told him about me, of how much I wanted.
How needy I was.
And I knew after all he’d wrung out of me, he’d be done soon.
He lifted his head. “Now?”
The turmoil inside me was a sedated kind of beast now. Too exhausted and fully subdued, heavy-lidded and boneless, I couldn’t fight him if he started tattooing “Property of Maverick” across my belly. The idea flared a heat inside me, and I stacked it onto the pile of shame I’d live with forever more. “Fine… I’ll stay. But I have work tomorrow.”
He sighed as if sipping a cold drink on a hot summer’s day. “That’s my good girl,” he rasped. Shuffling up behind me, he pulled me in close. He didn’t untie me, and I was too tired to ask him to, but we fell asleep spooning.
Reaper and me—tied to his bed with his magical shadows.