Page 9 of Cage the Storm
I meet his eyes, and the raw hunger I see there makes me suck in a breath. I lean in, my lips brushing against the tip of his cock, and a hiss tears from his throat. I take him in my mouth, my tongue swirling around him as I start to move. His hands tangle in my hair, guiding me, urging me on. I can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles flex beneath my touch.
“Fuck, Luna,” he hisses, his hips bucking slightly. “You’re so good at this. So, fucking good.”
I’m gagging on his length as he fucks my mouth. Tears are streaming down my face as I struggle to keep up with his rhythm. His grip on my hair is fierce, almost painful, as he guides my movements. I can feel the pressure building in my throat, the need to breathe becoming nearly unbearable.
Just when I think I can’t take any more, Nico’s thumb brushes across my cheek, rough and calloused, smearing my tears and mascara in one unrelenting swipe. It’s just another sick reminder that even in my unraveling, he owns the moment.
I look up at him through blurred lashes and broken pride, and the raw hunger in his eyes steals my breath. And somehow, it makes me desperate to match the intensity he’s pouring into me with nothing but a look.
His body tenses, and the muscles in his thighs and abdomen go rigid. I know he’s close as my hands and mouth move in perfect sync. I can feel him swell, can feel the pulse of his veins against my tongue.
“Luna!” he cries out, his body rigid as he comes. His release is hot and thick in my mouth, and I swallow. My own body trembling with need, thighs clenching with an ache I’m desperate to fuck away.
He pulls me up, his hands on my waist, and his mouth crashes down on mine. I know he can taste himself on my lips, and it sends a fresh wave of desire crashing through me. His hands roam over my body, his touch hot and demanding. And I know that I’m lost to him, to this, to the way he makes me feel.
“I hate you,” I whisper against his lips, even as I melt into his embrace. “I hate you so much.”
“Lies,” he murmurs, his hands sliding under my dress, his fingers finding my pussy. “Your cunt is soaked and needy for my cock. You want me. And you know it.”
I stand there, breathless and aching, my body betraying me with every pounding heartbeat. Nico’s touch is both torture and ecstasy as his fingers tease my opening and flick over my clit. Edging me, but never satisfying this ache building inside of me. I want to hate him, to push him away, but my body yearns for his touch, for the release he promises but refuses to give. It’s a cruel game, and I’m trapped in its thrall, desperate for it to end, evenas I crave more. “You can’t come,” he whispers, his voice a low, commanding growl. “Not yet. This is your punishment.”
“Then I’ll take matters into my own hands. Like I always do.”
“Like hell you will,” he growls. “I’m the only one who can make you come, so do not touch yourself. Do you understand? Good. Now, go get cleaned up before we leave.”
CHAPTER TEN
NICOLAI
Once again,I lead her through the winding halls beneath the estate. A cavernous maze of lefts and rights designed to disorient. She stumbles slightly, lightheaded. Whether it’s from the lack of oxygen or the way I had my hand around her throat minutes ago, I don’t ask. She’s quiet now, and I prefer it that way.
If I wanted to stifle her screams or bury her body, this would be the place. But I didn’t bring her down here for that.
I brought her here to remind her who she belongs to.
“We’re almost there,” I say, glancing back at her. “Then we can clean up for dinner.”
“I’m not hungry,” she mutters.
I spin her around before the words finish leaving her mouth. She sways, and I catch her by the waist, steadying her. Her eyes flick up to mine, and I know what she sees. Danger. Dominance. The kind of man any sane woman would run from.
But Luna? She doesn’t so much as blink.
She’s been around men like me her whole life. Men who take what they want. Men who punish and protect in the same breath. Giovanni taught her fear. I’m teaching her obedience.
“Maybe you misunderstood me,” I say. “I didn’t ask you to dinner. I said we could get cleaned up and get ready for dinner. There’s a difference.”
Her lips part, but I don’t give her room to argue.
“As my wife, it’s your place to be by my side, whether you have an appetite or not. It’s an insult to the chef if you don’t show. Not to mention more work for the kitchen staff if they have to bring you a tray.”
I lean in, just enough for her to feel the heat of my breath.
“You’ll come with me. And you’ll eat.”
We step into the central part of the house, and I close the door behind us. Her shoulders drop, and she finally lets out a breath. She hated being down there. Good. She thought she could wrap me around her finger early on. That was her mistake. But she’s learning the hard way.
Now I’m waiting until she finishes getting ready before we go down to dinner. Luna will soon find out that I follow the traditions my family set years ago, and that’s never going to change. Whether there’s one sitting at the dining table or twenty, we will be there every night. If, for any reason, I’m called away because of business, then she will dine alone. No exceptions. Bedrooms are for sleeping and fucking, and that’s where it begins and ends.
