Page 222 of Those Who Are Bound

He tugged on her ponytail, forcing her head back. She looked up at him as he bent over her, a triumphant smile on his face. “Well heeled now, aren’t you? You’re waiting to find out what I’ll do to you next.”

Elliott’s eyebrows drew together. Was heplayingwith her? Teasing her? “I’m not ‘well’ anything!” She tried to dip to the side, but he fisted the ponytail as he stood again, holding her still.

She heard his zipper. Oh, lord, the puddle in her panties at the sound. She still wiggled, staging a mock rebellion as he walked around her. One hand was still in her hair while his other hand reached into his jeans.

Glaring up at him, she mocked, “What, exactly, do you think you’re doing? You invade my home and now—”

“And now you’re going to suck my cock,” he said evenly.

She snorted, even though she contemplated his progress, her mouth watering. She loved Jonah’s cock. It took every ounce of willpower not to lick her lips in anticipation.

“I’ll consider it an apology for kicking me out—”

Her attention snapped back up. She reminded him, “You got laid beforehand.”

His jaw tensed and his lips twitched. His wicked expression told her he was enjoying this little playfight as much as she was. But he ignored her remark. Freeing himself, he stroked slowly. “For the parking garage and the night of the reception; for every moment I wanted to sink into you and you shut me down.”

“We’re broken up,” she reminded him.

He let out another low, long growl; it crawled all the way through her, clawing along her nerve endings exquisitely.The sound alone had a way of claiming her.With her arms behind her, his hand tilting her head back, her breasts were thrust forward. He could see what she painfully—a beautiful pain—felt: her nipples straining against her T-shirt.

Accentuated by her quick breaths.

She wanted this; he knew it.

“For that,” he snapped, referring to the breakup. He smacked her on the lips with his cock. “Now show me you’re sorry.”

Oh, she wanted to, but she glared at him instead. Lips brushing the softness of the tip, which only triggered an overwhelming urge to take him into her mouth, she sassed, “You assume that I am.”

She was, in truth. Had been all along. But that wasn’t the point now.

He raised an eyebrow and moved his hips forward, prodding her lips. “Open.”

It was an order. One side of her wanted to rebel. She wanted him to be humble. Although she wasn’t in the position to wage any battles, she didn’t want to go down—or take him down, as it were—without a fight.

But with his glorious cock in front of her, hard, ready, and glistening with pre-cum, she told herself that this wasn’t her giving in. She was simply taking what she wanted. Opening her mouth, she touched her tongue to taste; it’d been so long since she’d tasted Jonah. A low hum escaped her as she savored the drop, her gaze sliding up to meet his.

His lips were parted, a half snarl of pleasure, looking like he was trying hard to control himself. Or rather, attempting to keep himself from shoving the full length of him into her mouth as he watched her lick her lips. Slowly, taunting him.

The green of his eyes darkened with lust. A slight jerk of his hips eased the crown beyond the threshold of her mouth; she allowed it. Wanted it. He reached forward and caressed her cheek, her jaw; encouraging. She didn’t need the encouragement. Opening her mouth wider, she guided him in with her tongue. She welcomed him with a gentle seal at first, her tongue flicking back and forth.

His breathing became raspy as he watched—felt—her.

There was no sound, no life, beyond the two of them. His low moans, the sucking noises she made, their breathing—his, rough and staccato; hers, desperate and quick—mostly through her nose. Above all, she heard her blood, the pounding in her ears.

She experienced the same in her chest, the rapid hammering of excitement, increased sensation. The beat between her legs, along with the slippery heat that begged for him, eager to welcome him.

He withdrew slowly and eased back in. It was repeated. It reminded her of how he made love to her, a gentle glide before he demanded more. They stared at each other, lost in the world of the other; what he was doing to her, and what she was providing for him.

When his fist tightened on the back of her head, she knew his patience for gentle was over. That, and the naked need in his eye, the teetering along loss of control. It was a triumphant moment for her.If she could have smirked at him, she would have.

Seconds later, he slammed into her. Again and again. Fucking her mouth. There was no gentleness, no relief, as saliva dripped. He paused only briefly when she gagged, allowing her to recover before he was filling her mouth again.

“Take it,” he rasped out.

She couldn’t argue, not that she would have. This was her punishment for tormenting him, for hurting him. So she took it, and she took him. Sucking, licking, apologizing with her mouth and tongue. It was a small price to pay, and the best way to say it.

He supported her head. Her body shook as she used her core muscles to stay upright under his onslaught, with her arms tied behind herself.

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