Page 39 of Red

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” she whispered, tilting her head and giving him access to her throat. He kissed her jaw, the little spot behind her earlobe, and continued down her neck. If this was her punishment for being a brat, she’d consider doing it more often.

His chest vibrated against hers along with his deep chuckle. “Letting you go would definitely not be the right thing to do.”

He captured her lips beneath his in a powerful, demanding kiss, like he was staking claim on what was his. No proposition, no request for entry, he stormed the territory and planted his flag. Not that a coherent thought could have formed and been executed from any part of her brain at that moment. The instant his lips touched hers, her resistance melted away. His tongue swept through, touching hers, teasing and playing with her until she fell under his complete command.

And when he finally pulled away, pressing light kisses to her cheek, she betrayed herself with a heavy sigh. He chuckled again, this time against her neck, as he slid his hands beneath her robe.

When had he untied it?

“This is better,” he said, letting the robe fall to the floor and pool at her feet, along with her resolve to keep firm against him.

“What is?”

“You, being like this, kissed into silence.” He kissed the curve of her shoulder. His beard tickled her skin.

She clung to his arms, not sure if she was gearing up to shove him away or hold him closer.

“I suppose it’s better than your belt, too,” she breathed as he made his way to her lips.

“Hmmm, when you aren’t being so naughty, I’ll show you how good my belt can feel.” He kissed her chin, cupping her shoulders. “But that mouth of yours needs a lesson.”

She sank to her knees before him without any pressure from him to put her there. Her tongue ran along her lip while her eyes took in the bulge of his pants.

He put space between them while he worked his zipper. With his pants open, he pulled his cock free and fisted his hard length.

She swallowed.

She’d seen cocks before. She wasn’t completely inexperienced, but she’d never witnessed a man stroking himself. His hand, strong and rough, wrapped around his thick shaft and maneuvered up toward the head and back down. It was mesmerizing.

A small bead of precum formed at the tip, and without thought, without motive, she leaned forward and swiped her tongue across it, gathering up the salty drop.

He hissed as though her touch burned him.

“Again.” He shuffled forward a step, planting a hand on the top of her head.

She licked the underside of his cock.

“Give me your hand.” He beckoned her obedience. Once she complied, he wrapped it around his shaft. “Hard, Red. Hold me tight.” His voice sounded like he’d swallowed a fistful of rocks, scratchy and raw.

She gripped him hard, the slick smooth shaft beneath her fingers as she stroked him then closed her mouth around him and suckled.

He groaned. His fisted her hair, but still he didn’t move her, just held her, like he needed something to keep him steady on his feet.

She took him into her mouth, going down, down, down until her nose hit the coarse curls at the base. He intensified his grip, not letting her back off when she tried to move again.

“Hold still.” He sounded like his teeth were clenched, but she couldn’t look up at him, could only hold the position he held her in.

“Open wide, Red,” he ordered.

She sputtered, needing air, but she managed to open her mouth wider, sucking in a bit of oxygen when he slid his cock back. The reprieve was short-lived as he quickly thrust into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat and catching her unaware.

She gagged, but he wasn’t deterred, continuing to pump into her throat, cutting off air, choking off her thoughts. Her palms pressed against his thighs, but she would have had more luck moving a steel barge.

“Keep your throat open, Red.” He grunted, thrusting harder into her throat. “Your naughty mouth is getting the punishment here, Melinda. Put your hands behind you.” He gripped her hair and yanked her off his cock. Drool hung in a thick string between her lip and the tip of his dick.

She folded her arms behind her. Melinda remembered the girl at the Annex, how she’d been merely bent over a table and used. It felt Erik was doing the same—using her to fulfill his primal urge—and yet, she looked up at him with a hunger she’d never felt before.

He slapped her cheek lightly. “Open up,” he ordered, and she parted her lips wider, wanting him to do his worst—and his best—to put her back where she felt good again. Where she didn’t feel like an annoying brat.

---