Page 115 of Servitude to Serpents

I gasp as he shoves his fingers in my mouth, gagging me as he presses down on my tongue. “Quiet now, those pretty words are only for me.”

I nod, tears spilling out over my cheeks because it’s too much. It’s too much and I can’t get enough. I’m so fucking close when he snakes a hand between us, gently pinching at my clit. My orgasm hits me hard, but he cuts off my scream, gagging me as he takes over, fucking my swollen core. I’m lifeless when he releases me, exhausted as he moans my name, filling me as he follows over the edge.

We sit like that for so long: me drifting in and out of sleep as his hands explore my body, testing, adoring, taking his time with each inch, checking that I’m okay. My heart swells. As much as I need the scathing, controlling side of him, it’s this side that made him the object of my obsession, the plot to every dream. My lids are heavy as I force myself back to look at him. The smile that fills my face is real,blindingly genuine despite all the uncertainty of what our life is about to hold. I don’t care what comes next because he’ll be with me.

“Tell me you love me,” I command.

He smirks, making my heart flutter. “I love you. So fucking much, it's maddening.”

“Keep going.”

His smile widens, those hazel eyes drinking me in. “It’s so much more than love. I’m obsessed with you, Chloe. I have been since the moment you walked into my office. You’ve consumed me,owned me. I never want it to stop.”

“Good boy.”

His eyes narrow on me, making my pulse jump, but he fails to hide the amusement on his lips.

I purse my lips, widening my eyes the way he likes. “Too much, Sir?”

“Far too much.” His voice is dark, and already, my body is thrumming, needy all over again. I make a sound of protest as he lifts me off him, gently tucking me into his side as he addresses Stuart, getting briefed on stuff I couldn’t care less about as his hand makes soft passes through my hair.

My eyes are on the window, watching the world blur as I pout, already desperate to be in his arms again when his hand abruptly tightens, making me gasp. “Oh, and dog?”

That name makes my pulse jump in the most degrading, tantalizing way, and I release how much I’ve missed hearing it. “Yes, Master?”

He steers my attention back to him, his thumb dancing across my swollen lips. “You made a mess.”

My eyes slip down to his still-exposed cock. Even in the darkness of the back of the car, I can see how wet it is, glistening still with our combined arousal. My cheeks heat as he leans in, his lips tickling my neck. “Lick it clean.”

And I do.

Chapter forty-seven

Epilogue: Part I To own is to… Redeem

Chloe Three Years Later

I bring the tiny cup full of far too much caffeine for me to handle to my lips, sipping it gently. The bittersweet tang of expertly ground coffee explodes on my tastebuds, forcing a wanton moan from my lips. The clearing of Sir’s throat is the only warning I get before another jarring buzz sets off deep in my tight hole. I flinch, pain beginning to edge the pleasure in a way that makes me want to crawl over the small café table separating us and impale myself on his cock. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve come today, my thighs slick with my arousal, hidden beneath the floor-length skirt I’m wearing. Shortly before he guided me to the café, I’d all but sobbed in the couture boutique dressing room, begging him to let me take the plug out of my ass.

He declined.

Adamantly.

The smug asshole sets it off again, and this time, I poorly disguise my whimperunder a terribly fake-sounding cough. I don’t need to look up from underneath the wide brim of my sunning hat to feel the displeased look he gives me. Those hazel eyes are filled with warning, with promise. My heart skips a beat as he leans forward, his muscular, inked arm stretching toward me in the most tantalizing way. Our eyes meet, making my stomach fill with butterflies and my core clench. Even as exhausted as I am…I want him just as badly as he wants me.

Warrick’s fingers skim across my wrist the way he always touches me—adoringly, with an underlying threat that drives me fucking insane with need. To anyone else at the nearby tables, that’s all this looks like: a man enamored with his woman. They aren’t wrong, but there’s more. I watch him, my teeth prodding at my bottom lip as he slips another one of the black diamonds across the band of my bracelet. It’s a beautiful piece he had custom-made for me before this trip. Excitement and a good amount of fear settle in my belly, low and deep, that stunning diamond joining the steadily growing line of ones to the right.

My master is keeping score.

Every time I let someone hear me, I get a mark.

At this rate, I won’t be able to sit for a week, and the bustling streets of Paris are oblivious to my plight.

“Tsk. Sweet pet, you’ve nearly run yourself out of diamonds,” he taunts before lifting my hand to his lips, brushing them across the back of it in featherlight kisses.

I try to glare at him, I really do.

“If you would let me take this fu—” I’m cut off as an older woman approaches our table, her entire vibe screaming luxury. She looks kind, her weathered hand pressed against her chest, keeping her tiny bag in its place on the crook of her arm. I don’t miss the way Warrick’s hand on mine goes from adoring to possessive, the way he tenses. Always ready, always waiting. I suppose, as a notorious criminal, he should be.

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