Page 60 of Untamed

This isn’t just a fantasy anymore. It’s real.

And I’ve never wanted anything more.

His mouth to my ear, he whispers, “Spread your legs for me.” His harsh tone leaves no room for argument.

I hesitate for a split second, and his hand grips my thigh, fingers digging in just enough to make me gasp. "Now," he snaps, and my knees part instinctively, heat pooling low in my stomach as his control washes over me.

"That’s better," he mutters, his voice laced with satisfaction. His hand moves higher, his touch slow and deliberate, teasing, as if he knows how badly I want more. "But don’t think for a second I’ll make this easy for you, Ember. You want me? You’re going to earn it."

I’m already trembling, his words sinking into my skin like fire. I moan against the gag.

"Quiet," he bites out, cutting me off. Even blindfolded, I can feel his dark eyes on me, daring me to disobey. "You’re not in charge here. I am. And I decide when you get what you want."

His hands slide to the inside of my thighs, his fingers brushing higher and higher until I’m biting my lip to keep from begging. He leans in, his breath hot against my skin.

"You’ve been running that smart mouth of yours for weeks," he murmurs darkly. "Posting your little fantasies. Talking about men like me. But now that I’m here, you don’t have a fucking clue what to do, do you?"

I shudder, his words cutting through me like a blade. It’s true.

“You want my mouth, don’t you?” His voice is low and rough. “Nod if you want my mouth on you.”

I nod, stifling a moan, thankful for the blindfold so I don’t have to look into his eyes. I’ve never had a man dothatbefore, and I—am not really sure if it’s going to be as nice as I’ve imagined.

They sure do like it in the books…

I swallow hard, my pride warring with my desire. But he doesn’t give me a choice. His grip tightens, his thumbs pressing into my thighs, spreading me wider.

He laughs, dark and almost cruel, and I’m here for it.

And then his mouth is on me.

It’s not gentle. It’s not teasing. It’s raw, consuming, and merciless. His tongue moves with precision, claiming me the way his words have—completely and without apology. My head falls back against the wall, a muffled cry tearing from my throat as he devours me.

I can’t see him but can only imagine his mouth moving like he’s starving, like I’m the only thing that can satisfy him. It makes my entire body clench with need.

"You’re mine," he snarls, his teeth scraping against my sensitive skin, sending jolts of electricity through me. “Give me that pussy. Spread your legs and lean on me.”

When I do what he says, he grants me a reward. “Good girl," he says, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. "Now keep your fucking hands where they are and take it."

I try to move, to shift under the overwhelming sensation, but his hands clamp down on my thighs, holding me in place. "Don’t fucking move," he snaps, his tone a brutal warning.

Every stroke of his tongue, every flick and press, pushes me closer to the edge. He knows exactly what he’s doing, exactly how to undo me. My breaths come in shallow gasps, my body tightening as the pressure builds to a breaking point.

"You don’t come until I say," he growls, pulling back just enough to make me sob in frustration. "You’ll come when I tell you to and not a fucking second before."

I whimper, my hands clenching into fists as I fight to hold back.

I’m trembling, teetering on the edge, and when he finally snarls, "Now," the word hits me like a command I can’t ignore.

I don’t know how to come on command. I don’t know how?—

“Come,” he orders with a sharp slap to my hip, and something releases in me.

I fall apart, my body shattering under his relentless touch. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, driving me through wave after wave until I’m wrecked, my legs shaking, my voice hoarse against the gag.

My body slumps against the wall, trembling, but all I can think is that I’ve never wanted him more. My breath comes in ragged gasps as I fight to collect myself. My legs are shaking, my throat raw from muffled cries, and still, all I can think about is him. How he pushes me to the edge and catches me every time. How I never knew surrender could feel this intoxicating, this safe.

His hands are on me again, firm yet careful, steadying me like he knows I can’t stand on my own, as he removes the blindfoldand gag. The gentleness of his touch is a stark contrast to the wreckage he’s left behind, but it makes my chest tighten. When I glance up at him, his eyes are dark and unreadable, but his jaw is tight, his control ironclad.

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