CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR #4
Then he moves up, goes to the valley between my breasts, his hand flat and wide, his thumb tracing circles.
Without me having to prompt him, he begins, “I was quiet. Even before everythin’ happened.
Serious. Kept to myself, did my work. Other than Arsen, didn’t have a lot of friends.
Any time I was with a girl, it was fun, but”—he shakes his head and strokes my tits, making me whimper—“didn’t want just fun.
Or casual or somethin’ that didn’t mean anythin’.
Thought it was a waste of time, goin’ out with girls just for the sake of that.
I did it, yeah, ’cause I was horny, but…
I wanted somethin’ else. Somethin’ different. ”
My heart is slamming so hard in my chest, I’m sure he can hear it, feel it against his palm. I’m sure he can hear the longing in my heart, touch the love swirling in my chest, my belly as I whisper, “What did you want?”
He looks up, his eyes green and intense.
He slides his hand to my throat. He thumbs my collarbone, dips his fingers into the triangle as he says, “This. A girl, somewhere. Somewhere isolated, in the woods maybe. Or on a ranch, far, far away. Away from everyone and everythin’ else.
Wasn’t lyin’ when I said if someone dared to come within a hundred feet of her, I’d shoot ’em dead. ”
He keeps staring at his fingers on my throat as he continues, “Or if she ran, she wouldn’t see a soul for miles.
Every turn she’d take, every road she’d walk on, would lead to me.
Wouldn’t tell her that, though, not at first. I’d let her run and run until I caught her.
Maybe tied her up, roped her like a wayward filly.
But only with the softest rope I could find.
Because I knew she’d have to stay roped for a long time. And then I’d explain.”
My pulse is fluttering really fast as I whisper, “Explain what?”
He looks up, his eyes dark, his features sharp and predatory.
Keeping our gazes locked, he moves his hand again, brings it up to my jaw, puts it on my trembling mouth.
But he doesn’t stop there, he puts his fingers—three of them, all together—inside my mouth and dips them deep.
So deep and far down that my neck arches and I gag.
Then, looming over my face, he rasps, “That there’s no one here but me.
” Over my gagging, choking, horny moans, he continues, “I’m all there is.
For her. I’m her god, her king. I’m the man and the monster she belongs to.
And this is her life, bound to me. Roped to my side.
Roped to my bed. For my pleasure. Where I can watch her, play with her, touch her whenever I want.
Maybe tattoo my name on her neck where everyone can see she’s mine.
My property. My fuckin’ territory. Where I can scare her when I want, thrill her.
Punish her, reward her. Use her, pamper her, make her come at my command.
” He brings his fingers out, all wet now, just like my mouth, my jaw, saliva dripping down as he grips my throat again and growls, “That’s what I want.
A girl, bound and open. Helpless and wet.
At my mercy. My Princess, my darlin’, my fuckdoll. ”
I feel faint, dizzy, so fucking horny that my words sound slurred when I ask, “This is y-your ranch, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“And I’m in your bed.”
“You are.”
“Roped.”
He squeezes my throat in response.
“I’m that girl.”
He squeezes some more and I arch my back, struggling to breathe. “You’re that girl.”
I lick my lips. “What does that… what does that girl get in return?”
He runs his eyes all over me, squeezing and squeezing my throat before coming even closer.
He rolls his body onto mine and settles between my thighs.
His hard cock slides over my swollen and wet cunt as he rasps, starting to rock, “My air. My blood.” I gasp as he hits my clit and continues, “My cum, my spit.”
To demonstrate, he squeezes my throat so hard, my lips fall open and he spits in my mouth before thrusting his tongue inside my mouth and kissing me hard. Then, “My body and soul.”
This time when he squeezes my throat, my moans become squeaks and all my breaths are cut off.
I feel like I’m going to pass out. But in the last second, he comes down on my mouth and saves me.
He fills me with his air and gives me second life.
At which point his rocking speeds up and I come, writhing under him.
He breaks the kiss then and lifts himself up.
He comes up to his knees, all bare and beautiful, and he jacks himself off, watching me tremble for him as I lie there, tied up.
His eyes move over my bound form, frantically, much like his hand on his cock, taking in my arched back, my flushed skin, the rope he’s used on me.
Just as I call out his name, he comes. His cock pulses in his hand and paints me in his cum in thick streams. Completing this almost ritualistic union where he gave me his air, his spit, and his cum.
He’s already shed his blood one too many times for me.
And I send out a wish, purely for selfish reasons: that somehow, someway, I get to keep his body and his soul too.