Page 29 of Merciless Queen

Ignoring how that term makes my core clench, I head down toward the end of the bed to tie his ankles. As I go, my finger trails over his abs, his hip, pausing an inch away from that cock of his. I hover, checking his reaction.

There’s hope in his gaze. Longing. But denial is half the fun, so I continue, moving down his legs, anticipation thrumming to see him all bound up. He certainly isn’t my first, and he definitely won’t be my last, but has there been a man I’ve been more eager to have?

By the footboard, I gather the ropes there, showing him one. “For your ankles. Can’t have you taking over.”

“No, that’d be a shame,” he murmurs, watching with an intensity I’m finding downright terrifying as I loop the rope around his left ankle, tying it quickly thanks to practice.

Then I do the same to his right one before verifying, “Feel good?”

He jerks his legs, checking the bounds, and responds, “Yes.”

“Remember your safe word, if you need it,” I remind once again as I stop by my nightstand and jerk open the drawer. Alongside my gun for extra nighttime protection are my usual toys. He did say he doesn’t have limits…but the more seconds that pass, the more I’m finding this isn’t what I want tonight. There’s something different about Zeno. His directness. His humour.Somethingthat has me wanting it to only be him and me. Not even a blindfold appeals to me because I want to watch his piercing emerald eyes. Want him to see precisely who he’s with and remember this night long after it ends.

So I instead grab a condom for later before shutting the drawer and sliding onto the bed beside him. “When’s the last time you were tied up?”

“A few months ago.”

I nod, pretending to think his response over. In truth, I have no idea why I asked at all, other than having the urge to know. A strange sensation since I’ve never cared about a man’s sexual history before.

“Tonight,” I start, voice low as I slide overtop him, one leg on either side of his stomach. It positions me right over hisabs, but his cock taps the back of my ass, taunting me with the temptation of just sliding down and taking him inside me.

I can already imagine the feeling of being stretched with his girth. Of feeling mindless and even boneless. Of throwing my head back and thrusting overtop him, feeling him everywhere at once so when the orgasm consumes me, it’s as though nothing will ever replicate the sensation he brings.

“Tonight,” I try again, “you’re all mine. And what I want is to see how long I can keep you on edge before you beg for release.”

“That depends. Do you want me to beg you at all?”

I smirk at his cheekiness. Clearly, he knows how to play. “I do,” I reply in a low crooning voice as I lower my chest to his. Nails scrape his pecs and over his neck, tracing a delicate vein. “I do because my favourite thing is to make a man lose his mind.”

Zeno’s eyes flash to mine, a strange look in them when he says, “You made me lose my mind the moment I saw you on that balcony.”

My stomach flips, both in appreciation and in denial. I shake it off with a tap of my index finger to his neck. “Compliments won’t make me go easy on you. Now, no more talking unless you’re begging to come.”

I straighten, studying my work on both his wrists and ankles. He watches me carefully as I press a gentle, barely-there kiss to his lips and slide my hands along his arms until reaching the black rope.

“Seeing you all bound for my pleasure gives a woman ideas, Zeno.”

So many, I almost don’t know where to start. I want to taste him, exactly as he did for me, only to pull back right before he can come. There’s something about a man being edged that’s entirely too sexy. Witnessing the plea and desperation in his expression while being awareI’mbehind it.

But even better: finally granting the release he’ll crave. Of witnessing his orgasm consume his entire body, mind, and even fucking soul. That’s my favourite. Teasing my partner but being trusted enough to eventually give in and release them from both the physical and metaphorical bounds they’ve found themselves in. Then there’s the aftercare. Rubbing aches from their nerves, warming any post-orgasm shakes, and simply caring for them before sending them on their way.

I kiss down his neck, over his smooth chest, breathing in the scent I can’t quite place but wish I could bottle. My tongue dabs out and licks through my movements, heading for his pert nipples and taking one in between my teeth.

He jerks his wrists and ankles at the same time, causing me to smile. He’s sensitive here, which makes this more fun. I lap the small nub while my hand plays with his other one, rubbing circles around it until trading off and repeating the same to his other. He makes a low sighing sound, his weight dropping deeper into my bed as he begins to let go.

As I move my mouth down, my hips have to follow the trajectory and my pussy slides right over his cock. I bite the inside of my cheek, but Zeno’s restraint isn’t the same, and he makes another noise, this one a partial grunt.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You’re so warm.”

“You’re talking,” I remind him. “For every word that isn’t aplease, I’m more likely to hold back.”

I keep going, kissing down his body but purposely avoiding his cock, instead going around and lapping at the sensitive skin. He’s all muscle, which makes me wonder what he does for a living. Construction or other outdoor work? Something that keeps his skin toned, his muscles strong. I’d ask, but it goes against my casual disinterest during these interactions.

I move over him, purposely blowing on his erection, smirking as it twitches. I do it again, this time focusing on the bead of precum.

“Signora...”

That didn’t take very long. Zeno definitely seems like a man who won’t break so easily. Shame.

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