Page 44 of Sin

“Don’t.” The word came out of his mouth with a harsh finality. My teeth clanked together as I forced myself to stop talking. “I don’t want to hear your apologies.”

For several moments, we just stared at each other. I’m sure the ceremony was about to start, but neither of us made any move to back away from the other.

His grip on my tie loosened as he slid his hand up to the knot. Hooking his finger through the knot, he slowly undid it. It took me several tries to swallow as he wrapped the tie around his wrist and palm, eyeing me with a hungry yet fiery examination.

I licked my dry lips. “I know you said you don’t want to hear my apologies, but maybe I can use something other than words?”

He inhaled sharply, and his nostrils flared. His grip on the tie tightened and cut off the circulation in his hand. “Yes.”

That was all the permission I needed. Closing the distance, I sealed our mouths together.

His lips were soft but unyielding as they moved against mine. He tasted like he smelled—like coffee and cigarettes. A new flavor but one I devoured nonetheless.

Dios mío, lo quería.

The slide of fabric against my wrists distracted me, and I broke from the kiss to glance down at my now bound wrists. The fabric slipped beneath the dampening cuffs I wore and tightened against the raw skin beneath, making me wince.

“Well, this is new,” I mused, trying and most likely failing to appear calm. Internally, my heart drummed, my pulse throbbed, and my lungs failed to catch a full breath. But not from fear. Not even close. I was so excited that I didn't even care that my wrists stung. “Usually it’s me tying you. I like it.”

Flashes of images flew through my mind. London on his knees, rope woven across his body in beautiful, intricate patterns. London sprawled naked on the bed, a lattice-work of colorful ropes across his skin, following every enticing curve and indentation of his body. London with his legs folded and butterflied open, ropes binding his hands to his ankles as I sucked his cock.

London gave the knot ensnaring my wrists a quick yank, bringing me back from my dirty memories, and I forced back a hiss as he sent me a narrowed look. “Will you please just be quiet for like five seconds?”

I grinned, even as my wrists stung. “Nope.”

He sighed in resignation.

But I forgot all about the pain with what happened next.

Curses flowed freely from my lips as he sank down to his knees, bringing my pants and boxers down with him. I moaned as he licked the crown of my cock before sucking me down. My fingers itched to run all over his body, to rip his shirt and pants off, and mess him up as thoroughly as he was messing me. But with my hands still tied, my brain fogged with lust, and my legs like jelly, all I could do was sit back and accept what he gave me.

His tongue probed the slit of my shaft, and I let out a little moan as he slurped me down to the back of his throat.

I wasn’t going to last long, and as if he sensed that, he sucked harder. There was a clicking sound, and I peeked down, finding him squeezing a dollop of body cream onto his fingers. It must have been one of the items that had fallen off the vanity. He swirled his tongue around the sensitive head of my dick and the tickle of fingers along my taint had my back arching.

I was a trembling, sweaty, and needy mess as his slick fingers made a slow trail back toward my hole. They circled the sensitive ring of muscle with a tempting sweep. I swore when he finally slipped one lotioned digit inside.

In and out, in and out, in and out… Each slow thrust brushed over my prostate. It was torture and bliss all at the same time, and when he stretched me even more by adding a second finger…

“I’m going to come,” I warned, and London sped up his ministrations, making sure the flame of desire building at the base of my spine roared into a full-blown inferno. Licks of pleasure seared through me as I orgasmed, and London continued to massage the sweet spot inside me through every pulse.

Once he finally wrung out every ounce of pleasure from my body, London finally pulled back to look at me. Too many emotions swam in his gaze. Pain, anger, regret, love…

Without uttering a word, he stood from his kneeling spot and moved to stand in front of the dressing mirror in the corner. Carefully and methodically, he straightened his clothing, all the while watching me in the reflection. I didn’t understand how he was capable of moving when I was still struggling to get off my ass after that epic orgasm.

His gaze roved over me, the hunger back in his eyes as he took in my debauched appearance. The bulge in his dress pants begged for assistance, but London ignored it as he walked to the door.

“Are you coming?”

I grinned, and he rolled his eyes. But I caught the small spark of amusement he couldn’t conceal. He was still angry, but maybe…maybe with some time, we could figure this out.

And with that thought, I finally dragged myself out of my post-orgasmic bliss and fixed my clothes. I didn’t understand how his clothes hadn’t wrinkled when mine were a rumpled mess, but no one would be able to tell he’d been on his knees giving me the best damn blowie of my life.

“Are we…” I trailed off, still winded. “Are we okay?”

He paused in straightening his tie, searching my face like he could figure out the answer to that if he just stared long enough. “No,” he admitted honestly, making my chest constrict. “But maybe we will be. With time.”

I swallowed down the panic which seemed to be present more and more these days. “I don’t want to lose you.”

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