Chapter 17 Line Crossed #2
He smiled and his hand tightened in her hair. “Breathe,” he said, voice rough. “You can take it. I know you can.” She blinked up at him, eyes wet. She felt thrilled at the way his face had gone soft and fierce all at once when he’d said I know you can.
His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth. “Look at you,” he said, something like awe threaded through the heat. “Most beautiful sight I’ve seen in years.” The words hit her, arousal building. No one had ever told her that her openness, her surrender, could be beautiful.
He thrust again, and she choked around him, but the burn in her jaw blurred with a throbbing heat between her legs.
She thought of how exposed she was, how the cool air kissed her damp skin, how the rope bit, how utterly she belonged to this moment and this man’s choice.
“Look at you taking it deep,” he praised as he shoved in further.
Fear crept around the edges of her mind. He was rough. Rougher than any of the others dared to be. She had been just starting to believe she was loved here—valued, at least. Now, with each demanding push into her mouth, she felt that certainty wobble.
What if this was all she was to him? A hole. A bargain. A thing.
“What are you thinking about?” he panted, noticing the way her gaze had gone distant.
She hummed around him, too full to answer. He pulled back abruptly, leaving her gasping, mouth wet and empty. “I asked you a question,” he snapped.
“I—” Her voice came out hoarse. She swallowed. “You’re… rougher than the others.” She tried to catch her breath. “I didn’t think I would like this.”
His eyes flashed. “You want me to be gentle?” he asked, mocking and serious at once.
She licked her lips. “No.”
“You like it,” he said. “Don’t lie. I can smell when you’re scared and when you’re wet. Right now you’re both.”
Humiliation flooded her cheeks. The worst part was that he wasn’t wrong. “I’m not—” she started.
He stepped closer, crowding her again. “If you crave honeyed words and gentle touches, find Bennett. But if you wish to feel the very core of your existence shake? You come to me.”
His hand slid between her thighs, fingers grazing the slickness there, and she couldn’t bite back the sound that tore from her. “That’s what I thought,” he said. “Tell me you want my cock, Snow.”
She swallowed her fear and let him see her want. “Please,” she whispered, hating how needy it sounded.
“Say it louder.”
“Please,” she said again.
He smiled, slow and wicked. “There you go,” he said. “That’s what I wanted to hear.” He untied her ankles first, fingers quick on the knots. Then he set to work on her wrists. The rope slackened, fell away.
Before she could draw a full breath of freedom, he had her spun around and pushed onto the bed, his hands moving her like she weighed nothing.
She landed on her stomach, the blankets soft against her skin.
He grabbed her hips and lifted, tucking a pillow under her belly so that her behind was raised, knees sinking into the mattress, arms outstretched above her head.
A moment later, the rope was back, looping around her wrists, securing them to the headboard this time.
The new angle left her chest pressed into the mattress, her backside high, thighs parted.
She could move even less now. Her heart skittered in her chest. She felt the mattress dip as he shifted behind her.
Cool air brushed over the backs of her thighs, then lower, making her shiver.
She tensed as his hand skimmed the inside of her knee, sliding up her leg, over the curve where thigh became hip.
His fingers didn’t go where she expected. Instead, they parted her gently, baring her in a way that made her face burn even though no one else was there to see. She heard him inhale sharply. “You smell like you’ve been thinking about this all morning,” he said.
She made an inarticulate sound into the mattress.
He chuckled, low. “I told you,” he leaned in. “Couldn’t get you out of my head.”
For a heartbeat she thought he was going to kiss her where she ached most. Her body clenched in anticipation. Instead, his mouth found a different hole, more forbidden.
The first wet, warm swipe of his tongue over the tight ring of muscle made her whole body jerk. It was like being struck by lightning in a place she hadn’t even known had nerves. “Gage,” she gasped, voice half shock, half warning.
“New, isn’t it?” he said, his breath hot against that sensitive skin. “No one’s ever touched you here.”
She shook her head, too stunned to be ashamed.
“You want me to stop?” he asked.
Honesty warred with modesty. Modesty lost. “No,” she whispered.
“That’s my pretty girl,” he said again, and then his tongue circled her slowly, teasing the edges, making her toes curl into the blanket. The unfamiliar feeling sent strange, shivery waves through her, radiating outward in a way that somehow made the dull ache between her thighs even sharper.
He moved his face lower until his tongue reached her clit.
She instinctively repositioned her legs, spreading her thighs so he could get in close.
Gage’s tongue lapped at her clit, then drew small, torturous patterns that made her moan into the mattress.
“Say you want more,” he said, voice roughening.
“I… want more,” she gasped.
He stilled. “Not good enough,” he said, louder. “Beg for it.”
She bit the pillow, pride warring with need. “Please,” she managed, the word muffled. “Please, Gage. I want more.”
He made a satisfied sound. Then he obliged.
His tongue continued circling her sensitive nub as his finger slowly traced her back entrance, still wet from his tongue.
His fingers pressed more insistently now, tracing and circling.
He began to gently suck on her clit, while at the same time finally pressing past the tight resistance of her back entrance.
The intrusion was strange and intense and impossibly intimate.
For a second, discomfort flared. Then it turned into something else—hot, shocking pleasure that made her vision blur and her fingers clench uselessly against the rope.
She moaned, louder this time, hips bucking without her consent. The sensation of both her front and back being worked at once had her eyes rolling back in her head. He held her steady as his free hand slid up to cup one breast, thumb rolling the nipple through the thin fabric of her dress.
Her body felt like it was on fire. No one had ever dared to touch her like this.
It felt like she was with three men at once, but it was only Gage.
Every stroke of his tongue, every teasing retreat and plunging return of his finger, every hard pinch of her nipple, rewrote the map of her own body.
“Listen to you,” he said loudly between licks, his voice vibrating against her. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she choked out. “I—Gage, please.”
He moved his tongue back and forth. Moving to her slit briefly, letting her feel his breath against her soaked entrance, then returned to the place that made her toes curl and her vision go white. “Do you want more?” he asked again, as he gave her nipple a hard flick.
“Yes,” she cried. “Yes, oh, please—”
“Keep being good for me. You dirty girl,” he said, cruel and almost tender all at once.
“Please,” she begged. “Please, Gage, I need you. Inside me. Please. I’m so close, I—”
Suddenly he pulled away. She almost sobbed at the loss.
Cool air rushed in where his tongue had been. The gap felt raw.
She heard him spit into his hand, heard the slick sound of him stroking himself. Then his weight shifted, and she felt the broad, hot head of him nudge against her entrance. He didn’t tease now.
He pushed forward in one long, punishing stroke, sinking into her until his hips hit the backs of her thighs.
The fullness was almost unbearable, made more intense by the lingering buzz of his tongue’s work.
She cried out, the sound high and desperate.
He groaned, low and deep. “Fuck,” he breathed.
“You’re… you’re gripping me like you were made for this.
” He withdrew partway and slammed back in, hard. The pillow muffled her scream.
He set a brutal rhythm, each thrust driving her higher and higher. Her body, already strung tight, responded helplessly, clenching around him, pleasure coiling low and tight.
“Ahh, I love how you take me. Your ass looks so good from this angle. With me pounding deep into your pussy.”
Then, just when she thought she couldn’t take more, his hand moved from her hips back down to her backside, a single rough fingertip finding the place he’d just been with his mouth.
He pressed there gently, not quite entering, just adding that extra edge of sensation that made her see stars.
Her mind dissolved. She had never felt anything like this.
Every nerve seemed to be firing at once.
The pressure built and built, like a wave drawing back.
“You’re doing so good. You’re my good fucking girl,” his voice growing louder. “You’re mine,” he boomed.
His words pushed her closer to the edge than she'd ever been. “I’m—” she gasped, words tumbling over themselves.
“Gage, please, I’m going to explode, please don’t stop!
” She managed to twist her head enough to look back at him, hair sticking to her cheeks, eyes wide and wild.
He saw her, truly saw her in that moment—disheveled, bound, flushed, on the brink of something she’d never reached before.
And then he made his choice. He pulled out. The sudden emptiness was like being dropped from a great height. “Wait,” she cried, voice cracking. “No—no, please, I—”