Page 35 of The Silencer

“Couch,” he finally says.

I reach up to touch the belt between my lips, but don’t remove it. God, I’m living for this. I want him to tie me up all damn day.

He could do this, and I’d be a willing participant.

He doesn’t seem to understand my willingness though because he grabs my wrists and tugs me forward. I wasn’t going to take the belt off, for fuck’s sake. I’m going to leave it there and let Anthony have his way with me.

He can so have his way with me.

When we get to the couch, he reaches his hands up and drags my robe off. It falls to the ground and my body shakes in response.

He faces me away from him as I hear some fabric rustling, and then I feel it, something soft tying my wrists together. His necktie.

Oh my god.

Oh my fucking god.

I don’t even have time to comprehend it. It’s just there and I’m bound and gagged, completely at his mercy.

At the mafia boss’s mercy.

Fuck. Yes.

His hand reaches down and his fingers dip into the ointment with a squelch before he starts to apply it on my back. I start to moan the minute his fingers land on my skin and start to rub. I can’t believe he tied me up.

I mean, I can, but fuck me.

Why is this so hot?

Because it’s Anthony.

“Turn around,” he commands when he’s done rubbing his hands all over my ass and the back of my thighs.

I do as he says, my fingers curled up into my palms, my fingernails biting into my skin, trying to keep myself from coming just like this.

Oh god, do not come just like this.

His hands continue to run all over me, making my gaping, gagged mouth pant. I’m drooling, some running down the sides of my lips but honestly, I don’t even care. I just whine.

His fingers drag up my thighs and my head falls back, exposing my bobbing throat to him.

Suddenly, his hands leave my legs and he pushes me backward. I fall with a cry, my bound hands aiding in my fall. Not that I’m hurt. The cushions soften my landing, but the surprise of it has my eyes widening.

Anthony takes a step closer to me, using his knees to push my legs apart. They’re spread open, my balls and ass on display as he steps between them and places a hand on the back of the couch, leaning over me.

I stare up at him, the way his shirt is unbuttoned slightly, the way his chest rises and falls.

He’s breathing just as hard as me.

Lube appears somehow and dribbles onto my straining dick. I gasp behind my restraints and watch as the liquid slides down my cock and pools around my groin. A moan slips from my mouth when those tattooed fingers wrap around my cock and squeeze.

I don’t know why he’s doing it, have no idea of the motivation behind it, but even if I could talk, I wouldn’t question it. I just arch my hips up, feeling the sting in my side from my bruised ribs, but I manage to look past it.

I can so look past it for this.

More. I want more.

His fist pumps up and down my length, twisting at just the tip and making me moan in desperation. My balls are drawn up tight, full and ready to explode as he leans even closer, the edge of his suit jacket brushing my bare knees.

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