Chapter 4 #2
He was big—intimidatingly so—thick and long and fully erect, his shaft jutting from a nest of dark hair. But that wasn’t what stole my breath.
He was pierced. A silver ring glinted at the tip of his cock, threaded through the head in a way that made me clench involuntarily just looking at it.
And below that, running down the underside of his thick length, a ladder of small barbells—five, maybe six of them—that caught the light as he shifted.
I’d read about this in my romance novels, but seeing it in person, on him, and knowing all of that metal was about to be inside me—
“Breathe, kitten.”
Tate’s amused voice cut through my spiraling thoughts.
I realized I’d been staring with my mouth literally hanging open and snapped it shut, cheeks flushing.
He wrapped his hand around himself, stroking slowly, and the sight of those barbells disappearing into his grip and reappearing again made my core pulse with desire.
“It’s called a Jacob’s ladder,” he explained, his voice dropping to that low, rough register that did things to my insides.
“The ring at the top is a Prince Albert.” He stroked again, his thumb rubbing over the silver ring piercing the head.
“And before you ask—yes, it’s as much for your pleasure as mine. ”
“I...” I had to swallow twice before I could form words. “Does it... will it hurt?”
“The first push inside might be a stretch,” he admitted, moving toward the foot of the bed.
“You’ll feel every single barbell as I fill you up.
But I promise you, kitten—” He climbed onto the mattress, positioning himself between my spread legs as he leaned over me, hands braced beside my head.
“—it’s going to feel so fucking good you’ll forget your own name. ”
I believed him. Looking into those dark, hungry eyes, feeling the distinct press of his pierced cock against my inner thigh, I believed every word.
“I trust you,” I whispered.
Something shifted in his expression—something raw and almost vulnerable beneath the dominance—and he leaned down to capture my mouth in a kiss that was more tender than I expected. His tongue stroked against mine, tasting and exploring, while one hand trailed down my body to cup my breast.
He rolled my nipple between his fingers, pinching until it hurt, and I gasped into his mouth. He swallowed the sound, then broke the kiss to trail his lips down my throat.
“I’m going to make you come again before I fuck you,” he murmured against my collarbone. “Get you nice and wet and ready. Make sure you can take me.”
“I’m already—” I started, but the words dissolved into a moan as his mouth found my breast.
He sucked my nipple between his lips, flicking it with his tongue while his hand attended to the other.
The dual stimulation made me arch off the bed, straining against my restraints, desperate for more contact.
He chuckled against my skin and switched sides, giving equal attention to my other breast.
“So responsive,” he praised, nipping gently at the sensitive peak, just enough to cause another sting of pain. “I could play with these gorgeous tits for hours. If I wasn’t so damn eager to get inside you, I’d push them together and fuck them and come all over your chest and throat.”
“Please,” I gasped, not even sure what I was begging for. Just more. “Please, Tate.”
He lifted his head, his eyes glittering with heat and desire. “Please, sir,” he corrected softly, the edge in his tone unmistakable, as was the shift in our dynamic. “Tell me what you want, kitten. Use your words.”
“I want—” I pulled at my restraints, frustrated by my inability to touch him. “I want you inside me. Please, sir. I need—”
“Not yet.” He pressed a kiss between my breasts, then continued his descent. “First, I’m going to taste your pussy.”
Oh, God. My breathing hitched as his mouth blazed a trail down my stomach, pausing to dip his tongue into my navel, to nip at the curve of my hip, to press open-mouthed kisses to my inner thighs.
By the time he settled between my spread legs, his broad shoulders forcing them wider apart, I was trembling so hard I was surprised the bed frame didn’t rattle.
“Look at you,” he murmured, his breath hot against my exposed center. “So wet. So swollen. So needy.” He ran one finger through my folds, gathering moisture, and I whimpered at the teasing contact. “This pretty pussy has been waiting for me all night, hasn’t it?”
“Yes,” I breathed. “Yes, please, sir—”
He licked me, cutting off my words. One long, slow stroke of his tongue from entrance to clit, and I nearly came off the bed.
The sensation was electric, magnified by everything that had come before.
By the vulnerability of my position, by the knowledge that anyone who cared to look could see the shadows of what he was doing to me through those sheer curtains.
“Delicious,” he growled against my flesh. “Fucking perfect.”
Then he stopped teasing and started devouring me.
His mouth was relentless—sucking and licking and stroking, finding rhythms I didn’t know I needed, discovering sensitive spots I hadn’t known existed.
His tongue circled my clit with maddening precision, then dipped lower to thrust inside me.
I writhed beneath him, pulling at my restraints, babbling words that might have been his name or might have been pleas or might have been nothing at all.
“That’s it,” he murmured, giving me another slow lick that made me cry out with need. “Let everyone hear what I’m doing to you and how much you love me eating this sweet, perfect pussy.”
He sealed his lips around my clit and sucked, and I shattered.
The orgasm hit me harder than the first one out in the alcove, waves of pleasure crashing through me in relentless succession.
I screamed, my back arching, my thighs clamping around his head, my entire body convulsing with the force of my release.
He didn’t stop. He worked me through it and then kept going, his tongue never faltering as he pushed me higher and higher until the first orgasm crested into a second, until I was sobbing with overwhelm and begging him to stop and he finally, mercifully, relented.
He pressed one last kiss to my swollen, sensitive flesh, then crawled up the length of my body until we were face to face. His lips were wet with my arousal, his eyes wild with barely-contained hunger, and when he kissed me, I tasted myself on his tongue.
“Ready for me?” he asked against my mouth.
I couldn’t speak. Could barely think. I just nodded, my body one giant nerve ending, raw and exposed and desperate for whatever he wanted to give me.
Kneeling between my thighs again, he reached toward the shelf beside the bed and retrieved a condom.
Tearing the wrapper with his teeth, he rolled it on with practiced ease.
I stared, mesmerized, as the latex stretched over his pierced length before he draped my thighs over his so that my hips were tilted at a better angle for him to fuck me.
Taking his cock in hand, he positioned himself at my entrance, the silver ring at his tip gliding over my swollen, over sensitized flesh.
“Eyes on me,” he commanded, leaning over me, strands of dark hair falling over his forehead. “I want to watch you take every inch of me for the first time.”
I met his gaze and held it as he flexed his hips and pressed inside, that first unrelenting push making me gasp, then moan, my hands instinctively pulling against my restraints.
The stretch was intense, just like he’d promised, but it wasn’t painful.
Not exactly. It was overwhelming, every little movement of his cock making itself known as he filled me with agonizing slowness.
I felt each barbell as it passed through my entrance, felt the ridged texture of his pierced shaft dragging against my inner walls, felt my body struggling to accommodate his size.
“Breathe, kitten,” he reminded me, holding himself still when he was only halfway inside. “Relax and let me in.”
I forced myself to exhale, to loosen muscles I hadn’t realized I was clenching, to trust my body to open for him. And gradually, miraculously, it did.
He moved completely over me, arms braced on the bed beside my shoulders as he sank deeper.
Another inch. Another barbell. Another wave of sensation that was almost too much to process until finally he was fully seated inside me—his hips pressed against mine, his cock buried to the hilt, every single piercing nestled against nerve endings I hadn’t known existed.
“Oh God,” I breathed, overwhelmed by the fullness, by the foreign sensation of all that metal inside me.
“How does it feel?” His voice was strained, his jaw clenched with the effort of holding still. I could feel him twitching inside me, could feel the heat and the hardness and the barely-restrained power of him.
“Full,” I managed. “It’s... I can feel everything.”
“Good.” His smile was depraved and wicked as he pulled back slowly—and the sensation of those barbells dragging against my walls made me cry out—then pushed forward again. “You’re going to feel even more.”
He started to move, his strokes slow at first, letting me adjust to the unique sensation of his piercings. But even at that measured pace, the pleasure was unlike anything I’d experienced. Every thrust lit me up inside. Every withdrawal left me gasping, desperate for him to fill me again.
“So fucking tight around me,” Tate groaned, his forehead dropping to mine. “You feel incredible, kitten. Like you were made for my cock.”
“Harder,” I gasped, surprising myself with the demand. “Please, sir. I can take it.”