Page 13 of Bound By His Name
Lev teases the edge again and again—building, holding, pulling back—until I stop caring what I look like. My body forgets everything but the ache between my legs and the rhythm of his voice.
“Look at yourself,” he says.
I watch my own face twist in pleasure. I see how badly I want it. I see what he sees.
“Touch your breast.”
I lift my hand and do as I’m told.
The moment my palm brushes over the peak, the vibration hits a high frequency, and I nearly drop to my knees.
“That’s it,” he says. “Stay with it. I want to watch you come apart without me laying a hand on you.”
With a sudden jolt, I realize Lev has turned it up even higher.
A cry escapes my throat, raw and primal. "Oh fuck!" I shout, my hips bucking wildly as the intensity becomes almost unbearable.
The room is filled with the slick sounds of wet flesh meeting vibrating silicone. My thighs are quivering as I lift my ass up to meet the relentless toy.
At this point, I don’t need more.
My hand drops between my legs, just to anchor the pressure. I keep the toy in place, barely moving, hips circling, rocking in slow, desperate rhythm.
A gasp escapes me as my legs shake, and then I fall.
It happens hard, a sudden, wracking orgasm that makes my thighs buckle and my body jerk forward toward the mirror. My palms hit the glass as I ride it out, my cheek pressing against the cool reflection, breath clouding the surface in a wave.
When I manage to lift my head, Lev is still in the chair, fully clothed and calm.
He sets the remote down gently on the table beside him.
“You looked beautiful giving up,” he says. “Next time, you’ll beg to be touched, won’t you?”
Then he stands and walks out, leaving me trembling and still pressed to the mirror.
Chapter 6
Lev
I stop the recording just before Anya’s orgasm.
I’m too fucking invested.
I’ve watched men die on that floor and signed contracts on that mirror. I’ve stood over grown men who pissed themselves at the sound of my voice.
Yet, none of them have ever held my focus the way she does when she falls apart.
I close the tablet and set it face down. The room is quiet as I pour a drink I don’t want and stare at the amber in the glass like it might dull the heat sitting just beneath my skin.
I’m the one who started it, and now she’s making me wait.
I walk back to the study in desperate need to focus. There’s a meeting tomorrow—arms logistics, maybe another territory to purchase. I can’t remember nor do I care.
Finally, I hear the knock.
It’s soft but not shy or hesitant.
“Come in.”
