Chapter 23 #4
I shook my head vigorously, the motion limited by the rope. “Rowan, the fact that you came is the hottest fucking thing ever. I just regret it wasn’t down my throat.”
He let out a pained groan and crawled onto the bed, his thick cock jutting towards me in a way that made me clench with anticipation. “I need you to stop talking, or I will find that gag. Be the good girl you claim to be.”
He positioned himself between my spread legs, his hands sliding up my thighs. He gripped my hips and lifted me, angling my body so that his face was inches from where I desperately wanted his cock inside of me.
My weight was supported entirely by his hands and the rope, the position leaving me completely vulnerable.
He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, a look of pure bliss crossing his features. “Fuck, you smell so fucking delicious. I have not been able to get your scent out of my head since I first saw you at the shower.”
Butterflies erupted in my belly, a swarm of them taking flight. “Really? That long ago?”
His tongue darted out—quick and precise against my clit—and I cried out, the sensation electric.
“Yes, really, Violet.” He punctuated each word with another lick, another stroke, driving me out of my mind. “Everything about you is dangerously fine-tuned for temptation.”
He ran his tongue down my slit in one long, languid stroke that left me shuddering. “Your taste is like a pomegranate from Tartarus. I would eat every morsel willingly, bind myself to your domain for eternity.”
His tongue circled the hood of my clit in maddening patterns, and I felt my orgasm slowly building again, coiling tighter with each pass.
“You smell divine, enough to drive men into rut with how promising you are.” His voice vibrated against sensitive flesh. “It makes me want to fill you with my cock and drown you in my come until you cannot remember any name but mine.”
His words pushed me closer to the edge, and my eyes fluttered back as he continued his assault. His tongue entered me then, pushing past my folds with unrelenting pressure. I tightened around him immediately, my body begging for release, for something more, for him.
“And this. . .” His tongue thrust deeper, and I keened.
“This perfect cunt is exactly what every man dreams of. Soft, warm, tight.” He pulled back slightly, and I felt his breath hot against my entrance.
“You are perfect the way you are, Violet. Every inch of you, inside and out.” His voice dropped even lower, commanding and dark.
“Which is why you will not come until I am buried deep inside of you. You will wait for me, Violet.”
Fuck, he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
I was near delirious at this point, feeling the orgasm crest and hover, my body shaking from the effort of holding it back. I couldn’t help it—I started begging.
“Please, Rowan. Please fuck me. Fill me up. I can’t hold it—”
My hips dropped as his hands repositioned, gripping my hip bones hard enough to bruise. He angled me, lining himself up, and then slammed inside in one brutal thrust.
The orgasm broke immediately, crashing over me with the force of a tidal wave. I heard him let out a string of curses as he began to fuck into me with an intensity that made the first orgasm bleed into a second.
I cried out his name over and over, the syllables breaking apart into incoherent sounds, riding the waves of my second release.
“Fuck, you take me so well, my little volchok.” His voice was ragged, wrecked, barely human. I could feel the tension of his orgasm building as his cock thickened inside me, stretching me even further.
“Yes, yes, please—”
“I am going to fill you up, Violet.” His words were accentuated by his thrusts that hit something deep within me that made me see white. “Is that what you want?”
Sweat glistened between our bodies, the scent of sex and salt thick in the air. He leaned down, his teeth finding my breast, the flesh catching and tugging. I felt another orgasm building impossibly fast, brutal in its intensity. Too soon, but my body wouldn’t listen.
“Yes, I want it. I want you to fill me.”
He lifted my leg, pressing my calf against his face, his fingers leaving marks where they gripped. “Fuck, this pretty pink cunt belongs to me now.”
“Yes,” I gasped, feeling him hit deeper from this angle, bruising my cervix with ruthless thrusts. “Don’t fucking stop, Rowan. I’m all yours.”
Pain and pleasure mixed in a feral cocktail of need between us until his body went rigid, every line of him reflecting honed perfection as he thrust deep one final time. A guttural groan tore from his throat, and I felt him pulse inside me, heat flooding my core.
The sensation pushed me over the edge again, my third orgasm ripping through me as I cried out his name as pain and pleasure tore through me.
He kissed me then, capturing my scream with his mouth. Our tongues clashed as we rode each other’s releases, his hips still moving in small, grinding circles that prolonged every aftershock.
When he finally broke away, we were both breathless, gasping like we’d run miles.
We stared at each other, chests heaving, and I couldn’t help it—a giggle bubbled up from somewhere deep inside. The absurdity of it, the perfection of it, the sheer unexpected joy of it.
Rowan caught it too, his mouth curving into a coy smile. We sat there—him still buried deep inside me, me still tied and trembling—laughing and smiling at each other like idiots.
It was freeing in a way I couldn’t articulate.
He kissed the inside of my calf, his lips soft against sweat-dampened skin. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” I breathed, enjoying the fullness of him still inside me. “That was. . .”
I trailed off, unable to find adequate words.
He raised a brow, a smirk playing at his lips. “Acceptable? Amazing? Borderline rapture?”
“Perfect.” I laughed at the word, realizing how often we’d used it to describe each other. But it felt fitting. “My brain is not working right now.”
He shifted carefully, his hands gentle as he helped lower my leg. He slid out slowly, and I let out an involuntary whimper at the loss.
“No. . .”
He chuckled, warm and affectionate. “I cannot leave the ropes on you for long, volchok. It is not safe.”
I pouted—full lips and everything, the expression exaggerated and childish.
It seemed to catch him off guard because he smiled and leaned down to kiss my nose. “Patience is not your virtue, is it?”
“I thought that was obvious.” I blew off hair that had fallen on my face, unable to adjust with my hands tied. “What does that word even mean? Volchok?”
He stood and began untying me with the same care he’d used to bind me, ensuring he massaged each spot the rope had touched. “I could tell you, or I could let you learn on your own.”
“I’m sure it’s derogatory, whatever it is.”
“It means ‘little wolf.’”
“Oh.” I felt foolish. “So, it’s an affectionate pet name?”
He hummed to himself but didn’t answer, the sound smug and amused, as if confirming my guess. The last of the rope fell away, and I sat up, feeling sore in all the right ways. Muscles I’d forgotten existed made themselves known, a pleasant ache that spoke of being thoroughly used.
Rowan sat on the edge of the bed, his hands carefully assessing my wrists, my arms, checking for any rope burn or circulation issues. “Can I carry you to the shower, princess?”
The word sat differently this time—not mocking or dismissive, but affectionate. Earned.
I threw my hand out dramatically, tilting my head up with exaggerated haughtiness. “You may.”
He grinned, genuine delight crossing his features. “Why, thank you.”
He gathered me into his arms, carried me into the shower, and set me down gently on the built-in bench. He turned on the water, testing the temperature with his hand before adjusting it warmer. Steam filled the space, carrying the scent of his soap, which I was learning to love on him.
He helped me shower with the same methodical care he’d shown while tying me, washing every inch of me with gentle hands. Shampooing my hair that had me moaning all over again. Soaping my skin. Rinsing me clean.
I yawned, exhaustion finally catching up with me, but I felt well-sated. Boneless. Happy.
Standing wrapped in a big fluffy towel afterward, having him rub me down and tend to me like I was precious—it was everything I’d wanted without knowing I’d wanted it.
And it was dangerous. Because I was not worth the pain I would bring him. My path would lead him down a blood soaked road that he did not deserve by loving someone like me.
A girl could get used to this. . . but I can’t, I thought solemnly. This can’t happen again.