Page 23 of Marked

Chapter 14

Riley

Is he playing me again? Or is this for real?

I try to silence these questions, but they keep calling for my attention. I close my eyes while I engulf his length in my mouth, my tongue pressed against his shaft as I slowly move back and forth. His groans grow louder with every motion and the pleasure ripples through my body just as much, heating my core with need for him.

I resist the urge to touch myself, not only because he never gave me permission to do so, but also because I fear that he won’t go through with it again. I expect him to withdraw at any moment, belittling me with a condescending smirk before he vanishes.

It’s terribly distracting to have these concerns run through my head as I try to focus on something that holds promise for a temporary relief from my cruel circumstances. A relief I have been denied before.

A relief I only sought because I wanted to turn the tables and regain the control he took from me.

I thought I could make him fall for me. I thought I could seduce him to become too fond of me to go through with the deal he seems to have. In a way, I did exactly what he wants me to do to Charlie—and I failed spectacularly. Cain saw right through me—at least that’s what it seems like. His sudden retreat remains unexplained, leaving me with nothing but speculation about the nature of this punishment—and a strong reluctance to approach him again, because he seemed too wary of me.

I want to believe that it is different now. I want to believe that his moans of pleasure are as sincere as the world-forgotten look on his face when I hollow my cheeks to increase the pressure on his cock.

I know it’s different for me. I’m not doing this to manipulate him. I’m not closing my lips around his growing hardness to gain anything other than delight from it.

Right now, all I want is him. Him close to me, him inside me. Him moaning in unison with me as we both explode with sheer delight in a tight embrace.

“Good girl.”

His words pull me back into the room, back to the moment between us. I refuse to question this any longer.

He won’t retreat. He won’t leave me.

Because he wants this as much as I do.

My apprehension is pushed aside when I feel his hand at the back of my head, gently caressing me before he reaches down to my neck, where he grabs a fistful of my hair to pull me up on my feet.

I grimace when he yanks me up, not stopping until I’m forced to stand on my toes as he presses his lips on mine in a hungry kiss. This kiss is not a lie. It’s not a game or a sadistic move to put me in my place.

This kiss is tingling desire that borders on greed, relentless, invasive, demanding, and perfectly delicious. Teeth clash against each other while his tongue invades my mouth, intertwining in a wild dance governed by lust.

The moan that leaves my lips when he breaks our kiss is born out of both disappointment and bliss, and when I open my eyes to meet his gaze, I find myself hugged by concern again.

His eyes are hazy with lust, but narrowed and stern, and for a moment I fear it is because he’s about to break this off.

“Turn around.”

His baritone voice is low but unyielding, and I comply immediately. My chest heaves in heavy but controlled breaths while I listen to the sound of clothes being removed behind my back. The anticipation makes my pulse speed even more, making it almost impossible for me to stand still.

I can feel the heat of his body behind mine, edging closer while I force myself to stay in place and not sway toward him as I’d like to.

“Hands,” he breathes against the back of my ear, and I respond with an elated sigh as I move my hands to my back.

Surprise hits me when I feel something being wrapped around my wrists. It’s softer than rope and oddly familiar, a velvet touch on my skin rather than jute cutting into it. He fastens the fabric around my wrists, tying them together before he hooks a finger through the knot and beckons me to move toward the bed. I smile when the tip of his hard-on pokes against the small of my back while he follows closely behind me.

“This one is for me,” he announces when we reach the bed, followed by a strong push against my back with one hand while he controls my fall with the other, holding me back by my bound wrists as my knees hit the mattress and I threaten to fall over.

I stumble, trying to accommodate my fall as well as I can while I’m forced to bend forward, only relying on him to prevent me from falling flat on my face.

“Stick that ass out,” he demands in a hoarse whisper. “Show me what a good girl you are.”

The echo of his growling voice pulsates through my body, all the way to my throbbing core, while my head and shoulders meet the sheets on the bed and I adjust myself to follow his command.

He positions himself behind me, still holding me in place by the tie around my wrists. I hollow my back even further when I can feel his steely length at my entrance. He teases me with his thickness, the head of his member parting my lips ever so slightly without giving in to my apparent desire to be stretched by him. My moans grow impatient as I invitingly move my hips for his benefit, keen on showing him how much I want him.

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