Page 32 of Gamble with Me
“Yes!” I responded, putting every bit of defiance I was capable of into that one word.
“Fine.” He chuckled darkly, but there was no amusement in his little laugh. “Let’s see if he’s better than me.”
The hand disappeared from my throat, and I frantically searched the darkness for some clue of his plans. But then I felt rope on my skin, tightening around my wrists, and pure panic settled in my chest.
“What are you doing?” I gasped when he straddled me and tied the rope to the headboard. I tried to move, but it held me in place with my arms stretched above my head.
“What are you doing?” I repeated in a trembling voice when he knelt between my legs and placed his hands on my thighs, spreading them.
“Which one of the triplets got your attention, huh?” he asked, ignoring my questions. The gloves’ leather was cold against my hot skin, bringing goosebumps with every move.
“What?” I squealed when he clutched my thighs, kneading them and slowly moving up to my hips.
“Answer the question, Valeria,” he demanded. I bit my lip, embarrassed to admit my interest in Zyon to someone else. I was breathing hard, my heart galloping like a wild horse, my body more aroused than ever before.
It was utterly absurd. My stalker had me tied up. He questioned me about another man like I had committed a deadly sin, and he was clearly upset about his findings. But I waspreoccupied with thinking about his fingers on my body that brushed dangerously close to my soaking panties.
“It’s not important,” I stated, hating the fabric of my nightgown uncomfortably grating against my erect nipples. I despised the reaction of my body to his unconsented touch.
My skin tingled with every move of his hand; my core was constricting and desperate for some action. I didn’t know him. For all I knew, he could be a psychopath or a serial killer, but that treacherous thing between my legs didn’t care.
“Which. One?” he roared, making me wince. He roughly tore off my panties, bringing my dripping wetness to light. I gulped, shaking from fear and excitement, not comprehending what was happening to me.
“Zyon,” I whispered.
He pinned my thighs to the mattress and lay between my legs. A whimper escaped my lips when his breath fanned my exposed pussy.
“If you want me to stop, now would be the right time, Valeria,” he muttered against me, blowing air on it, and I wriggled my hips. Closing my eyes, I realized I hadn’t said anything to stop him, but the words died on my tongue. I wanted to fight him, scream at him, kick or punch him, yet I didn’t do anything to prevent his mouth from attacking my pussy.
“Oh, fuck,” I breathed as quietly as possible when he licked me from my hole to my clit, sucking my sensitive bud between his teeth and darting his tongue against it. I pulled at the restraints, groaning in frustration over this situation.
“Imagine him, Valeria,” my stalker growled between the long licks, and I moaned, pressing my head into the soft cushion. “Imagine the man you want to give you pleasure.”
He seized my nightgown and ripped it open, revealing my chest. His hands grabbed my breasts, tugging and rolling my nipples while his mouth returned to my pussy. My breathing grew heavier with every flick of his tongue, and when his thumb pushed against my clit, his gloved finger entered me, and he licked around it. I almost screamed.
An image of Zyon’s sinister black eyes glared back at me when I whined and arched my hips against my stalker’s mouth.
“Fuck, you’re wet, mon cœur,” he chirped happily, but my attention was directed elsewhere. My mind was a blur, my skin quivered, and my body writhed in magical intoxication caused by his skilled fingers and my wild imagination. “Come for me, Valeria. Don’t make me wait.”
He drove me over the edge into the sweet nothingness, and I moaned and gasped for air, digging my nails into the rope that cut my skin.
“Shit, that was a great show,” he purred, bringing me back to reality when he cupped my chin. His glove was moistened with my pussy juices, and he smeared them on my dry lips.
“Open your mouth,” he commanded. I slowly obeyed, fascinated by the calmness that settled in my chest. “Tongue out.”
I darted it out, not knowing what to expect, when a few drops fell on it, and I tasted something unfamiliar.
“Swallow, mon cœur,” he whispered, his nose almost brushing my cheek. “Taste yourself.” He gently pushed my jaw, so I closed my mouth and gulped, staring at the dark silhouette hovering over me. “So perfect.” He traced the line of my chin and gently pecked my lips, caressing my skin.
“Free me, please,” I begged, tugging on the restraints. He hesitated for a moment but released my wrists, and a sigh of contentment left my throat. Carefully, I placed my palms on his shoulders, slowly moving them to his face, but he stopped me when I got to his neck.
“Why not?” I asked quietly. All kinds of reasons for his secretiveness popped into my overthinking mind.
“Maybe one day, when you’re ready,” he replied in a low, strained voice, and my eyes widened. I heard that exact tone and color of voice when Zyon asked me if my head had been checked out. Could he be?
“Why did you tell me to imagine another man?” I blurted out, desperately trying to find some clue. I clutched his hoodie with my hand and wrapped my arm around his neck, pulling him closer.
“Because it was the last time you’ll think about him. Starting now, I'm the only man permanently living in your head,” he stated with unshakable confidence, chuckling when I tried to see him.
