Page 95 of Those Who Are Bound

“So wet for me.”

“Yes,” she agreed, rolling her hips against his hand, taking in an uneven breath.

A second finger joined the first as he palmed her clit; a low hum escaped her; she shivered. His fingers moved slowly, teasing out each sensation. He didn’t release his hold on her jaw, his breath heavy against her face as he pressed against her, his forehead against hers, watching every moment of her arousal.He studied every stuttered breath, fluttered pulse, and quivering lip. The sounds she made ranged from low hums to quick, surprised squeaks.

When she tried to shut her eyes against his scrutiny, he ordered her to open them. Her cheeks flushed with more than desire. As he moved his fingers deeper and faster within her, she gripped his arm to hold on; hold herself up.She writhed against the wall, moving against him. She stared up at him, lip between her teeth, silently pleading; he was her all—he was her universe.

He slowly withdrew his fingers. She whimpered when he slipped from her to place the flat of his palm against her abdomen. Her muscles jumped and contracted under his palm; her legs trembled with unbearable need.

“Jonah, please,” she begged. She didn’t want to cry again, but god, the point he’d gotten her to, only to deny her at the last minute. This time, he deserved her tears—and any other meltdown she’d have at being denied the satisfaction of relief.

Jonah angled her head back and softly kissed her, maintaining eye contact. She gasped against his lips; her need had to be written all over her face. He said quietly, “I made you cry.”

Elliott blinked; she didn’t want to acknowledge it. It hadn’t been intentional. She forgave him, completely—hadn’t blamed him, even.

He bent, kissing the jumping pulse in her neck. “I made you cry, and now I’m going to make you scream.” He finally released her jaw, sliding his hands to her breasts, cupping them. His fingers found her nipples through the T-shirt and worked them, flicking, pinching. Lowering himself, he took one between his teeth and tugged, sucking hard through the material, the sensation heightening the overwhelming ache between her legs.

Elliott gripped his arms tighter to keep from crumbling to the floor, her head lolling along the wall. “Jonah!”

“You can do better than that,” he predicted and dropped to his knees.

“Oh my god.”

He grasped her knee and pulled it over his shoulder, looking up at her wickedly. “I’d prefer if you said my name, kitty cat,” he teased. Staring at her still, he nuzzled her before flicking his tongue out.

Elliott’s head slammed back against the wall. “Oh, Jesus!”

“Closer.” And then he nipped at her clit before giving a gentle suck, pulling from her that short scream he’d predicted as her fingers dug into his hair. He buried his face more deeply as he lapped her up, his arms between her legs, spreading her for him and cradling her at the same time, the wall providing her the most support.

Her leg over his shoulder jerked, her body twisted, her hands smacked the wall and—forgetting herself—smacked him once or twice. He laughed against her, the vibration of his voice setting off small squeaks and pleas from her. And then she finally found his name again in her repertoire as she began to buck against him with her initial orgasm.

He drew it out, slamming his fingers into her as he pressed his forehead to her abdomen; she folded over him, the spasms continuing to overtake her. But even as they began to fade, he lurched to his feet and spun her around, slamming her against the wall and kicking her feet wide.

She was gasping, her head spinning, certain she was about to faint, when she felt his fingers digging into her hips and the head of his cock at her entrance. She sucked in a breath as he slowly slid into her; a slow-moving coup that had her shuddering all over again, pushing back against him.

“Hands on the wall.”

She obeyed, her hands and forehead resting on the wall as he slid out just as slowly as he had slid in. She shivered.

His cheek resting alongside hers, his body pressing hers into the wall, their breaths labored, he informed her, “I’m going hard now.”

She barely had time to acknowledge his words when he slammed back into her—that’s why he’d told her to put her hands on the wall—to brace. Because he was going to drive himself into her. And he did. She loved it; her body loved it, craved it, rewarded him for it by clenching around him.

He breathed hard in her ear. “Fuck, Elliott, I’m almost there.”

Elliott shook her head. “This is for you, Jonah.”

He let out a strangled laugh. “Oh no, kitten, I’m not leaving you behind.” He reached around to her clit, this time slapping it instead of massaging it.

The sharp sensation startled a ragged gasp from her, the pain followed by an overwhelming rush of pleasure. Her knees shook on a surprised cry. He smacked her again and her brain stuttered; her body melted down. He spanked her clit six times. She came so hard she lost her legs out from under her, and Jonah had to wrap his arm around her waist to hold her up. She cried out, body convulsing uselessly against him as he continued to pound into her.

He came, slamming them both into the wall on his low cry, but she was oblivious.She was putty; her limbs had turned to liquid. When Jonah shifted, she faltered. He moved back and allowed her to fall back into his arms, lifting her up and cradling her against him. She rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her into the bedroom.

“I think I fainted,” she whispered, not certain she wasn’t still passed out. Maybe she’d died. Maybe he’d literally fucked her to death. She tested her theory. “Am I dead?”

Jonah chuckled. “You are not dead.”

“Are you sure? I feel like I’m floating.”

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