He pressed a tender kiss to my nose. “Everything about this is normal,” he encouraged. “You’ve been through a lot of trauma, and you’re still healing. You need an outlet for your emotions and I am giving it to you.”
Slowly, I nodded, understanding starting to click. Jericho reached for the candle and handed it back to me. I squared my shoulders, the confidence I’d lost long ago, on the eve of my first wedding, coming forward. “Lie down,” I demanded with a voice I didn’t recognize.
I pointed to the couch, and he obeyed. The Pakhan, the ruler of the underworld, was bending the knee to me. The man everyone feared. He was my husband, mine to command. He rested his head on the edge of the sofa, then kicked his feet over the other edge.
He was so tall that half of his body hung over, but I forced myself to make eye contact with him as he finished unbuttoning the crisp white shirt he was wearing. Anticipation swirled in my gut, while thick sexual tension flung through the air.
I’d fantasized all the ways I could hurt my first husband despite not being able to act on them. And here Jericho was, willing to let me do something about it. He never broke eye contact with me as I straddled his waist, the candle in my hand. Didn’t flinch as I dragged the nails of my free hand down his chest.
There wasn’t even a slight tick of his jaw as I hovered the candle over the mark I’d left on his chest. The scar that would now be a permanent mark of the first time I’d hurt him. It was only fitting that’s where I dripped the melted liquid now.
“Fuck, Eve,” he said through gritted teeth.
Black droplets fell over the scar, down his chest until it stopped when the hot liquid cooled and hardened to his skin. I moved the candle, placing it directly over his nipple this time, and pouring again.
His entire body tensed, writhing beneath me as I continued. I wanted to hear him plea, beg me to stop. I wanted him to squirm. The only thing that would have made this better was if I’d restrained his hands, rendering him unable to touch me while he offered me a slice of his strength and I took it, embodying it as my own.
I’d once thought the greatest gift Jericho had given me was watching the Queen of the Night bloom, but he continued to surprise me. I set the candle down, my heart pounding in my chest. As much as I loved watching him squirm, I needed his mouth against me and then I needed to taste his salty release.
I dipped my head as I hovered over him, our lips inches apart, and cupped his face as he peered up at me with awe. “How does it feel?”
His tongue darted out, wetting his drying lips. My thumb stroked along his Adam’s apple as it bobbed with anticipation. “It stung at first. It’s fine now.”
I knew that to be true, just from the few times I’d accidentally spilled a burning candle. Still, I shivered with anticipation. My cheeks burned as dirty thoughts flooded my mind. “I want to tie you up,” I admitted as I pushed away any embarrassment that would have normally come with that admission.
Jericho nodded, his eyes sparkling with approval and arousal. “So do it. Restrain me. Hurt me. Fuck me. I’m yours to use however you need, sweet Evie.”
I sat up straighter and rolled my hips against his hardening erection. The friction caused him to jerk, and a moan escaped his lips. I was just as desperate for him, didn’t want to climb off him, but I knew I needed to.
“Don’t move,” I said, trying my best to hone that commanding tone that my Pakahn used with his men.
I must have been convincing enough because he obeyed, his eyes never leaving me even as I approached my work bench and grabbed the twine. It wouldn’t hold him truly. He could easily break the weak fabric made to be used as decoration on my crafts.
Still, the illusion would be enough for me. I also grabbed the blade I used to cut it and headed back to him. The view of him stretched along the too small couch, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he peered up at me, waiting for instruction made my blood hum with arousal.
“First thing,” I said, my chin held high as I grabbed his hands and worked to knot them together. I lifted his hands above his head. Then, I straddled my king. “Sweet Evie is too …” I pressed a finger to my chin as I thought. “Pure for the things I have planned.”
“Yes, mistress.”
I halted my movements, trying out the name for size. I hadn’t been sure what I wanted from him, I just knew that there was nothing sweet about me. “Mistress” coming from his deep voice, with a hint of submission in it made me even slicker. He was giving me control, giving me everything that he thought I needed. And I loved him for that.
I dragged the blade in my hand down his chest. The pressure was light enough that it didn’t break skin, but firm enough it left a red, angry line down the center of his torso until I reached the fabric of his trousers. I tugged at the waistband, and allowed my urges to take over.
I was holding a knife against his most prized body part and he wasn’t stopping me. The blade tore at the fabric, and I let out a firm tsk. His cock sprung free, proud and ready for me.
“Jericho, you naughty boy. Where are your briefs?” I dropped the blade and took his length in both my hands.
He didn’t answer as his head fell against the arm of the couch, eyes closing while I stroked the warm velvet of his shaft. A bead of liquid fell from his slit, and I massaged it into the crown.
“Do you remember how you tied me up?” I asked. “Made me beg for you to touch me. Stuffed me with that toy? I was full, but I still felt so empty.”
“Fuck, yes.”
“It’s your turn, tyrant.” The threat in my voice stuck, coming out just as cruel as I intended. “You’ll be a fucking mess for me by the end of this. You’ll ask me for permission to come, do you understand?”
“Yes, my queen.”
God, I think I liked that better than mistress. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could take not having him inside of me.