Page 76 of Wicked Revenge

My hand moves to rub the sleep from my eyes but immediately meets resistance.

“What the fuck?” I crane my neck up to see both of my hands restrained above my head with a rope. Panic floods my body instantly, my breath coming out in labored pants. I try to pull my arms down, making the soft rope dig into my wrists. I try to twist my body, but I can’t close my legs either.

“Easy, Angel. It’s me,” The sound of Royal’s voice breaks through my panicked breathing, making my body sag in relief against the restraints. It’s only when he places his hand on my stomach that I notice that his head is between my legs.

“Wh-what are you doing?” I ask, the question rushing out as I take deep pulls of oxygen into my lungs to calm my racing heart.

“Exactly what I said I would do if you put yourself in danger,” he says, and his warm breath against my bare pussy lets me know just how wet I am for him.

He doesn’t say anything else, just dives back in, giving me long, slow licks up and down my slit. He’s not in a hurry. He takes his time like he just sat down to his favorite buffet and has all day to graze.

The delicious torture has me arching my back and driving my hips up to meet the strokes of his tongue, silently begging him to go faster. Harder. My hands ache to grip his hair and grind my pussy against his face to set the pace I need to come.

The sharp sting of his hand slapping my pussy pulls a desperate cry from my lips. “I’m going to enjoy my pussy, and you,” he growls, bringing his hand down once more, “are going to stay still and take it.”

The vibration of his dominating words against my sensitive flesh sends sparks of lightning straight to my clit. A drawn-out groan claws its way out of my throat, but I force my hips to stay planted on the bed, allowing him to go back to his torturous pleasure.

He continues taking his time, adding two fingers and curling them inside of me, slowly stroking the spot that makes my eyes roll into the back of my head and my toes curl, pulling the restraints on my ankles tighter.

My moans echo around the room. I might be embarrassed about how loud I am, but he is driving me out of my mind, and I don’t have it in me to worry about that right now.

Then, with no warning, he suctions his devilish lips around my clit, sucking and nipping at the swollen bud. I can’t keep my hips on the bed this time, the action jolting my entire body. His fingers increase their pace, rubbing that spot faster. I can feel my orgasm right on the edge of my reach.

“Fuck. Yes. Please,” I cry out, begging him to push me over the edge and into oblivion.

He has been teasing me since I woke up tied to his bed. He drives his fingers into me faster. Harder. He alternates between flicking my clit with his tongue and sucking it.

“I’m going to—,” I cry out, and just before I shatter on his tongue, he withdraws his fingers and mouth, sending me crashing down into a puddle of disappointment.

Angry tears prick the insides of my eyelids, and my breath comes out in harsh pants. I should have expected this. He warned me earlier. This is the second time today he has edged me, but this time I’m so pissed off I can’t form words.

The bed dips as he moves from between my thighs. The loss of his body heat sends cool air directly to my dripping pussy, making me shake with more than just pent-up frustration. I’m so embarrassingly wet that I can feel it on the sheets beneath my ass.

He doesn’t say a word as he grabs one of my ankles, but I feel him undoing the rope that is restraining me. I want to kick him in his beautiful fucking face right now, but I know that won’t do me any favors.

He moves to the other ankle and I feel the rope slipping off a few seconds later. When his hand leaves my skin, I snap my legs closed, drawing my knees up. I can hear him walking around the bed, but I keep my eyes screwed tightly shut, not willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing my tears of desperation still building.

I sigh in relief when I feel his warm hands pulling on the rope at my wrists. But he doesn’t release me. My heart rate picks up when his touch disappears until I feel something soft on my stomach. It's light like a feather, ghosting over my skin causing goosebumps to pebble in its path.

“Do you have a safe word?”

His deep voice crackles through the air like he is holding onto his restraint by a very thin thread. A shiver runs through my body at the sound, so it takes me a second to process what he said.

“Safe word?” I ask, confused about what he means.

“Yes. If you want to stop at any time, if it becomes too much or pushes beyond the boundaries of what you are okay with, you say your safe word, and I will stop immediately,” he explains.

I’m a little embarrassed that I didn’t know what a safe word was, but I do appreciate him giving me the option.

“I don’t have one,” my whisper barely audible around the lump in my throat. Thankfully I’ve still got my eyes closed because I can feel the heat creeping up my neck and staining my cheeks. I’ve never had any kind of relationship. I don’t have experience with consent.

His fingers grip my chin, tilting my head back. “Look at me, Angel.”

My heavy eyelids flutter open, finding his icy blue eyes have darkened to almost black. His stubbled jaw is clenched tight, the muscle ticking like a time bomb waiting to go off. His shoulders rise and fall with each heavy breath he takes.

“Pick a word for me,” he growls, and I’m beginning to forget what his voice sounds like when it isn’t dripping with barely controlled restraint.

Without thinking too much about it, I blurt out the first word that pops into my brain.

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