26 #3
So I don’t understand why Vengeance has come back into the doorway after having just gone in there with him, wearing nothing but her little black underwear.
My mouth goes dry.
“Yes?” My voice comes our far rougher than intended.
“Come.” She turns around without waiting for my response.
I huff. I’m still hurt—and yes, slightly pissy—from earlier, but my body doesn’t care about that, already swollen and hard for my Bonded from just one glimpse.
And my mind clearly doesn’t have a good enough reason not to follow after her like a trained dog, because I’m walking into that bedroom without a smidge of hesitation in under a second.
“Close the door behind you.”
The low, silky caress from Ezla’s lips moves my limbs, and the taalk slides closed behind me with a gentle swoosh before I even know what I’m doing. Swallowing thickly, I turn to face the rest of the room.
Tate glares at me from his position on the bed where he sits crossed-legged like a sullen teenager.
I can’t keep my snort in. “What’s this, Vengeance?” I shift my gaze away as Tate growls, coming to rest it on her.
“Tate is receiving his first punishment,” she tells me leisurely, twirling a lock of her unbound chestnut-brown hair around her finger.
My brow raises. “And what does that have to do with me?”
“You are going to help me.”
I scoff. “Sorry, Vengeance, but I think we’ve just found one of the very few things I won’t do for y—”
Her eyes roll. “You will not be whipping him or anything of the sort.” Clearly she’s plucked that traumatising thought from my mind. “We will be working on my beast’s jealousy today. He is doing much better, but I would like to test it in more . . . intense circumstances.”
Interest piqued, I straighten and walk towards her. “And you want to do that by . . . ?”
Her smirk is pure wickedness. “Of course.”
I huff out a low laugh, glancing at Tate, who glares into my soul like he’s trying to summon an Avri missile to blast me from the picture. Returning my focus to Ezla, I say, “You’re bloody evil, Vengeance.”
She waves a hand dismissively. “Do not pretend you do not love it.”
Shaking my head, I bite my lip to try and contain my grin.
“Don’t do this to me, Havoc,” Tate rumbles darkly. “I’ve been good. I’ve been doing damn well. But this? I don’t know if I’ll be able to take this.”
“You will.” HC’s eyes narrow on him threateningly. “You will do anything for me.”
Fists clenching in his lap, he can’t deny that.
“On your back.”
Growling again, he obeys. Naked other than for his black boxer briefs, he stretches out on his back on the bed, raising his arms above his head. Clearly, they’ve already had some sort of conversation about what’s about to go down.
Smirking, Ezla’s eyes rove over him, and my own are drawn to the movement of her hips as she walks over to the bedside table. Chains clank, the restraints she brings out far more intimidating than those she used on Tiger previously, and Tate’s chest begins to rise and fall faster.
She straddles him, and his fingers almost spasm with the need to touch her. To give him credit, I don’t know how the fuck he can restrain himself when he’s got a literal goddess on top of him.
“Fuck, that’s hot, Havoc,” he mutters ravenously, seeming to forget he’s about to be punished in the worst way possible as he watches her cuff his wrist and attach him to the headboard.
Humming, she purposely moves her chest closer to his face so that her breasts are hovering just out of reach as she works on his other arm.
Spitting out a curse, his hips thrust up without warning, and his tongue lashes out as he attempts to reach her nipple through the fabric of her bra.
Slapping his arm and yanking herself back when his entire upper half jerks forwards, Vengeance grins cruelly. “No, my beast. You stay still.”
“No, Havoc.” His grunt is rough, his anguish clear when she pulls away after a couple experimental tugs on the chains. “Fuck, please. I fucking need you.”
“Behave, and you will get me later,” she purrs, trailing a finger torturously down his torso and stopping just before she reaches his waistband, taking herself from the bed.
“Fucking fuck!” he bellows, thrashing about like a bloody wild animal as his near-frantic eyes track Ezla’s slow advance on me. “Fuck, I’m sorry, baby! Is that what you want?! An apology?! I’ll give you anything you want!”
“I do not need your apologies, my beast . . . I need you to take your punishment like a good boy.” Her eyes are on me as she speaks, and in my mind, I hear, Strip.
Out loud, she continues, glancing over a slim shoulder, “Your jealousy can be quite . . . thrilling, I must say . . . But not when it has caused my other Bonds harm, and not when it encourages you to act irrationally as you did in Techtis Ballroom.”
His groan is pure agony as I work on my Avri suit, heated liquid sluicing through me.
As I do, Ezla slowly removes her bra and thong, and the sound leaving Tate becomes tortured despair.
Swallowing thickly, I can only work to keep my breathing even as I absorb all that she is while I undress, eyes running up and down her mouth-watering figure, fucking devouring her milky-olive complexion, the dip of her slim waist, the toned muscles of her arms and legs, those fucking perfect dusty-rose peaks on her breasts . . .
Left in my underwear in the middle of my discarded items, I wait for her next instructions.
Soundlessly, Vengeance walks right up to me, and my skin prickles when she takes my hand.
Leading me over to the chair in the corner of the room, she turns me around.
A grunt is drawn from me when she shoves me into it, and my hands find the armrests, gripping on tight, needing something to stabilise me with her satiny skin all up in my face, the sight completely arresting.
I can feel Tate’s burning glare digging into the two of us, but I don’t think he can really spare too much anger at the moment when I can feel him through Ezla’s wide-open end of the bond, his attention digging into our flawless Bonded just like mine is.
Well, that is until she grabs my shoulder and pushes my back right up against the back of the plush onyx chair, the material giving way to me, then flattens her tongue straight to my skin. Then I forget all about him and what he may be feeling.
Hissing, my head slams back into the seat, the cords in my neck rigid. “Vengeance,” I grit out, trying my damn hardest not to haul her into me as she licks over the ridges of my muscles.
Humming, she simply keeps going, taking her sweet fucking time as she makes her way lower and lower, sinking down in front of me as she does.
My thighs spread wide for her so she can find her place on her knees, the rock-hard line of me straining against my boxer briefs as she reaches my happy trail.
It’s a bloody surreal sight, and I can’t deny that it makes me feel ridiculously high to see a literal goddess of death kneeling for me, lapping at my body like it’s the best meal she’s ever had.
Even so, we both know she’s still the one in control here.
And I don’t mind that one bit.
The leather armrests creak beneath my grip as it tightens, the colour leaching from my knuckles as her tongue follows the trail of dark hair from my navel to my waistband. Breathing picking up speed, it becomes ragged as my chest heaves.
In the background, I vaguely hear gravelly muttered words, but I can’t pay enough attention to Tate to tell if they’re more jealous or aroused.
There’s the faint clanking of chains every few seconds to remind me of his presence, but he might as well be on the other side of the world.
All that exists is Ezla and her tongue on my burning skin before she leans away while her fingers hook into my waistband.
When she stretches the fabric down, I’m almost embarrassed by how angry and red my cock is as it bobs in the air.
“So greedy for me,” Ezla comments with no shortage of glee.
Taking a deep breath, I say, “How could I not be, Vengeance? Look at you.”
Smirking, she hums, and the sound alone draws more moisture from the head of my already-leaking dick. She doesn’t reply before she licks up that droplet, one hand wrapping around the base of me and giving a shallow but firm stroke.
My temperature shoots through the roof, hips twitching of their own accord. “Fuuuuck.” Lids drooped to half-mast, I struggle not to thrust myself down her throat. Jesus Christ, she feels phenomenal.
But I can’t keep myself from reaching for her head, hands tangling in her long, glossy hair as she tongues the crown of my cock next, collecting the pre-cum from the ridge.
Groaning roughly, my brows push together as my muscles bunch and coil, and I’m still struggling to comprehend the sight of her on her knees for me, her goddamn perfect lips stretched around my girth as she takes me in now.
Her hands are on my thighs, satin-smooth against the coarse hair there, and the pinch of her nails biting into my skin has my length jerking inside her mouth, begging for some more of her violence.
I gather up her long strands into a messy ponytail, maintaining a secure grip afterwards, and when Ezla looks up at me with something like a challenge in her eyes, my insides turn molten.
“Shit, you going to let me, HC?”
In response, she takes me further into that wet warmth, and I grunt, hips bucking before I even hear her smoky words in my mind: Maybe just this once. My beast would like to do the same, and this will certainly test his jealousy.
I try to scoff, but all that comes out is a choked sound as my cock hits the back of her throat in the next second. No hesitation, simply her mouth swallowing me whole before I can push her onto me myself as she’s just given me permission to.