Page 5 of Captive Desires
I press my lips together. I’m talking too much. Again.
“You can choose your punishment,” he murmurs.
Oh?
Oh. I get to choose. The combination of helplessly tied down and control over what happens next is heady.
I think of obvious stuff. Spanking. Pain. Denial. I can almost feel the sting of his hand on my buttocks. But that’s so usual, it wouldn’t be right for him.
I take a deep breath. “You said I talk too much.”
He raises one eyebrow.
“You could shut me up.”
“And how do you suggest I do that?” he asks with brutal calm.
“I…” My pussy clenches and throbs at the thought. “You could…” My gaze slips to where his cock is hard, and saliva pools under my tongue. I swallow and look back at his face. “Fuck my mouth.”
He tilts his head to the side as though considering. “That’s the punishment you choose, is it?”
“If I have to be punished, I guess I think it’s appropriate.” Sort of. Is it? I’ve lost my mind. Nothing about this is going the way I thought it would. Nothing has been normal since the night I met the man at the masquerade.Ian. I have a name to obsess over now. “I dunno, what do you think?”
He doesn’t answer, but moves with swift efficiency. He yanks my hair elastic out, tugging on my scalp as he does so and I wince. That small pain reverberates through me as pillows are piled behind my back, lifting me up to almost sitting and he undoes and reties my wrists. Then I’m so distracted by his beautiful chest inches from my eyes that I miss what he’s doing.
“Keep your hand here, or this all stops.” He places my left palm onto his arse.
I mean to ask what happens if it stops, but the silken smooth head of his cock touches my lips and instinctively I open.
I’ve never done this before. I’ve imagined, and read smutty books, but I’ve never… And oh god the feeling of his cock is amazing. It fills my mouth and pushes at the back of my throat.
Silky and hot. So much hotter literally and figuratively than I thought it would be. When he shifts away and then back into my mouth, I realise he paused, giving me a moment to accustom myself. Or maybe to change my mind?
My nipples have gone hard and sensitised, and when his thigh brushes against my breast it sends pleasure zipping down to between my legs where I’m so full and wet I’m aching. I had no idea beyond a whim what this would be like. But as he begins to thrust, gently at first then with more confidence that I can take it, I love it. Yes, he’s clearly too big, the physics of this is impossible, but being crammed over-full with him is part of the appeal. As are his hands cupped at the back of my head and his strong legs on either side of my torso. He’s got me on all sides. I can’t escape and I don’t want to.
I press my fingers deeper into Ian’s buttock, or I try. It’s all hard muscle, tensed. The one thing I’m not doing is letting go. I’m never letting go of this man.
His pace is firm and constant, and utterly out of my control. As I suggested, he’s fucking my mouth. I’m his toy. His breathing has gone a little ragged, he shaking, and it’s the best sound in the world, stoic Ian Abernathy beginning to come apart because of what he’s doing to me.
“Open your eyes, Cleo.”
I don’t know when they closed, but I look up at his face. What I see shakes me. Yes, there’s lust in his expression. Yes, a satisfaction in the pleasure of the warm wet around his cock. But he’s not using me randomly, or impersonally. Savagely happy, that’s the only description I can think of.
“Good lass. You’re making me crazy with the feel of you.”
His praise lights me up. I love the idea of pleasing him, however insane this is. He must recognise, somehow, because he keeps telling me in that rough voice, his Scottish accent like hot buttered toast, that I’m beautiful, perfect, and he’s wanted my mouth on him. He tells me that this is everything he’s imagined and more. He tells me I’m his wee bonnie lass, and it’s like drinking warm honey. Sweet, so sweet.
He says that he’s never been this hard, and I believe him.
Shifting one hand to wrap my hair around his fist, the other cradles my skull firmly. He pushes harder, the rhythm he’s established slipping a little into jerks as he swells further under my lips.
I hold his gaze as he shudders and gasps, his grip tightening and tugging at my scalp. Just a hint of pain and it’s so good.
There’s no warning as he pulls out and spills over my breasts. Reams and reams of hot ejaculate hits my skin. I was already molten between the legs, but his come feels like a brand that links every part of my body, lighting me on fire.
His green eyes don’t leave mine. We’re locked. I think he wanted me to open my eyes so I’d see it was him marking me, and I couldn’t deny it.
As if I could. I can’t deny him.
