29. My Safe Word is Pumpkin Spice
Chapter 29
My Safe Word is Pumpkin Spice
CHARMING
P lease sit on my cock again, mistress.
How does she fucking do that? How does she know what persona I’m slipping in and out of at any time? She catches it before I even do.
And for a moment there, it was the Prince Charming show. The one I put on to entertain others. It gives me emotional distance so I can focus on the novelty or depravity of what I’m doing. It’s about fun, breaking the bonds of my position, my title, my life.
This is different. If only because Cinder demands it.
Maybe I didn’t realize what I was getting into when I decided to get tied up and put myself at her mercy. Something deep, dark, and lonely yawns open deep at my core, and suddenly I feel like I’m that boy again, wanting too much, too hard.
Shit, we should make a safe word.
Pineapples?
Pumpkin spice?
Stop touching me in my sensitive feely place?
Satisfied with my compliance, Cinder approaches again. While her perfect petite pierced breasts—the triple Ps I decide to call them—push her dress down in a lewd, sexual manner that makes me dizzy with horniness, I’m desperate to see her naked.
“Take the dress off,” I rasp.
She pauses. Violet eyes narrow with merciless cruelty.
Then she turns on her heel and leaves the room, disappearing into mine.
What? Where did she go? Is she leaving me here?
The sound of drawers opening and shuffling filters in from my room.
“Looking for something?” I call out.
It’s not long before she returns and there is a familiar implement in her hand. My cock swells with arousal while my balls shrink in fear. The slap of the riding crop hitting her palm resounds in the room. A positively wicked and triumphant smile curves her lips.
Uh oh.
Pumpkin spice! Pumpkin spice!
“You want me to take this dress off? Ask properly.”
I swallow hard. “ Please take your dress off, mistress.”
Cinder nears me and puts the crop between my erect cock and stomach like it’s some kind of shelf. She only briefly eyes the angry mark where her silver piercing burned into me.
I want to assure her again, but then she starts pulling at her dress, all the little fastenings until it loosens. Then in one fell swoop, it collapses to the ground, leaving her completely naked for the first time and I’m choked by awe.
Oh fuck, her tattoos curl down over her ribcage and under her breasts. One hip is engulfed by a massive phoenix and flies in majestic bright orange, yellows, and reds. I want to drag my tongue along it. In addition, to the skulls and flowers, I catch sight of little pumpkins and a cute pink cupcake with a little black dog peeking out from behind it.
And holy witchtits, I get my first full devastating view of her body. Precum leaks from the tip of my dick.
Despite the burn of silver, I’m so desperate to play with her cute little clit piercing, my fingers itch.
But then my attention catches on something else.
“What—what are those?” The question comes out in a harsh whisper as I take in the scars along her stomach, and full exposed arms. Now that I see the more prominent ones on her side, on her thighs, I see the ghost of those scars almost everywhere on her.
Worst yet, many had already been visible to me and I simply hadn’t noticed. The tattoos, the jewelry, the fishnets, and the long gloves covered them from view. She was bare of makeup to cover up the angry red bite marks that covered her.
Ignoring my question, she plucks the crop from where my dick was holding it. She snaps it on her hand. “Don’t talk unless I tell you to.”
My arousal is quickly siphoning off into fiery anger.
Someone has fed on her.
A lot.
All over.
“Who fucking did this, Cinder?”
I’m not joking anymore.
I’ve never been this serious in all my life.
Is this what happened at the border with those rogue Midnight fairies when she was younger?
I’ll find them. I’ll thrall them. I'll make them suffer beyond their imagin?—
A sting explodes on my upper thigh, too close to the family jewels.
“Hey,” she snaps, purple eyes burning. “Do not talk unless I allow you to.”
Then before I can disobey again, Cinder drops to her knees before me and drags that sinful tongue from base to tip of my dick.
My murderous need to hunt down whoever did this to her fights with what she’s doing to me, but Cinder is thorough in how she licks me back into full mast. She toys and plays with the ring at the top until I’m leaking precum, my head is fuzzy, and my balls draw up into my body.
I still have to know. Who did this to her?
Is this related to her supposed encounter with rogue vampires at the border? Was there some truth to the gossip? Did she nearly die?
One thing is for certain. This is the reason why she can’t stand my fangs being near her body.
This is why when I tried to kiss her neck, she—ahhh fuck she’s taken me completely in her mouth.
Cinder must have some unnatural power to open her throat because a shocking amount of me disappears. The scalding pressure of her sucking me off has me so close to popping, it’s all I can do to thrust and groan and think of anything to keep from losing control right there.
Before I register the cold air on my cock, Cinder returns to her previous spot to begin the painstaking journey of taking me into her tight little body again.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fucking witchtitties on a toothpick,” I curse, eyes clenched shut as I fight against the rope binding me. Again, the heat exchange between our bodies is so disparate, she is a hot, divine inferno of pressure, choke holding my dick.
Another stinging snap against my thigh has me jolting.
I’m not sure if I love or hate Cinder getting her hands on my crop.
“Open your eyes,” she commands, though she can’t keep the thickness out of her voice. She’s also affected.
I do so but thrust into her with as much motion as I can.
She gasps and her head drops back.
There are only little grinding motions she makes on top of me and again I feel the pressure of her clit piercing.
It burns. It burns so fucking good. It pushes my orgasm closer to the edge while strangling it in place with biting pain.
I’m not sure if she’s using the silver piece intentionally against me, or if she’s fully forgotten as she takes her pleasure on my hard dick.
Her movements are so minuscule, she might as well not be moving.
I want to scream, beg, shout at her to move. To fuck me. To ride me like an animal she wants to break.
“Please, please, mistress,” I beg. One of the marshmallows drops out of my mouth, but she catches it between us.
Cinder turns the dented mini sugar pillow over between her fingers then grabs my hair with her other hand, jerking my head back.
“Open,” she commands. I do so and she pushes it onto my tooth again.
Despite her harsh act, the soft scrape of her nails along my scalp sends warm pleasure tingles throughout my body.
Her mouth crashes into mine with a fervor I'm not expecting. The kiss is hungry, desperate. She needs to escape whatever is inside her.
As our lips meet, a searing pain shoots through me, emanating from where her silver tongue ring presses to mine. It's a white-hot agony, the metal scorching my sensitive tastebuds. But I don't pull away. Instead, I lean into the kiss, savoring the burn as a tangible imprint of her touch.
The pain grounds me, anchors me to this moment. It's a different kind of pain from what my father inflicts—this is a pain I choose, a pain that connects me to her. So I deepen the kiss, ignoring the blistering sensation, pouring all my unspoken emotions into the slide of our lips.
She raises her hips and slams them back down. I grunt into her mouth, feeling the impact hit the middle of my bones. She does it again. And again.
Each time, her hips increase in speed, driving me into a frenzy. My entire body shakes with lust. Her impossibly tight, pulsing walls surround me, overwhelming me with pleasure. Her breasts, still bare and perfect, transfer their weight and heat to my body with each thrust like an electric current.
She moans into my mouth, the sound low and guttural. My animalistic noises echo hers, lost in the haze of our coupling. As I feel myself reaching the edge, I grunt and thrust upward as much as I’m able to with that half-inch of movement.
Her clit piercing scrapes against me, but her pace is so volatile, the bright sting of pain comes and goes.
Cinder’s hips rock faster, harder, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. I arch my back, trying to get deeper inside her, but she's in control now. Her nails dig into my sides, leaving little half-moons of pain that meld with the pleasure.
“I’m gonna—” my words are muffled by her lips.
“No.” Her command is a sharp crack. “You will not come until I tell you.” Even as she says the last words, she shudders.
“Cinder,” I whisper. “Come. Come on me, I want to feel you.”
Those violet eyes sweep down to me in surprise.
I’m not playing our game right now. I need to say her name, to feel her break apart around me. I can hold off like she said, but I want—no, I need to feel her come.
To drive my point home, I buck up into her again with that scant half-inch of hip room I have to work with. But I fill her up so much, it still rocks her back with a squeak of surprise.
With that, her thighs shake like earthquakes, and the most glorious, sex-sodden wail escapes her throat. Cinder’s hips rub and buck desperately, while her inner muscles strangle me in alternating waves.
I war between shutting my eyes to keep hold of the fast-unraveling threads of control and forcing them open to watch my writhing tattooed fake fiancé take my throbbing erection deep inside her orgasm-shattered core.
Sweat and exertion have destroyed her normally perfect line of bangs. She's flushed, messy, and so very fucking hot. Hotter than anything I’ve felt or known.
By some fucking miracle, I hold back as she fucks out two more orgasms on my dick before she says the magic word with a kiss at the corner of my (still full) mouth.
“Come for me, Kai.”
My name on her lips has me exploding like a party popper. My body strains against the rope as a tortured half-groan, half-cry escapes me. The blood disappears from my head and gravity doesn’t exist. Nothing exists except the fingers stroking my chest and the lips softly laying trails of kisses down my throat.
I thought I came in here to have fun. To scratch an itch around this need I have for Cinder. But even as I’m still inside her, I realize that whatever this is. . . it isn’t that.
It’s not just fun.
She isn’t a novel amusement ride to try out before moving on.
I already know I’ll be playing this memory out over and over in my head. I’ll be counting minutes, seconds to when I can touch her again, see her face vulnerable, open, and breaking from pleasure, from when I can hear my name pass on her lips.
Despite being part of the royal family, I realize with a solid block of ice dropping in my stomach, she’s charmed me .
For a moment, I think she’s right there with me. Falling. Feeling. Succumbing to this thing between us.
Then something shutters down in her gaze, and I’m locked out. Her walls are up, the doors are sealed, and as she lifts off my body to stand, I know she’s retreated to the internal fortress she’s built.
While I sit out here, with a softening dick and a different kind of need inked all over me in plain sight.
A need for Cinder.