Page 224 of Those Who Are Bound

But, “What are you—?” Jonah hadn’t introduced ass play before, and beyond his question that first night, it hadn’t been brought up again.

His low laugh met her struggles. “Accepting your apology.” His tongue met that same hole, flicking, circling.

Elliott struggled on the bed again, trying to dislodge him from her backside. It wasn’t unpleasant—she liked it very much—it was… oh, lord, she was embarrassed! He was doing something to her she’d never had done before, something completely out of her repertoire and control.

Meanwhile his hands were holding her ass cheeks open for him to explore; his thumbs massaging in tandem the folds on either side of her vaginal opening, stimulating every part of her except for her clit. And her clit was painful with the need for relief, each throb like pinpricks.

When his tongue invaded her clenched barrier, she squeaked, “No!”

He stopped, his whiskers tickling her ass seconds before his teeth grazed a cheek. After a soothing lap of his tongue, he asked, “Is that a serious no?”

Elliott squeezed her eyes shut. Of course, she wasn’t serious. But it was a valid question, and Jonah wasn’t going to do anything to her she didn’t want. “It wasn’t serious,” she panted. Which meant she was going to have to get over her own inhibitions about having his tongue in her ass.

He hummed, accompanied by a slow lick that started with a spearing and curl inside her center, then traveling back up to her puckered ring. Oh, fuck, that felt good; so good. Her flesh broke out in goosebumps, and she bit the comforter, releasing her own hum.

“I love it when you purr,” he murmured. His thumbs slid inside her, still massaging. “I love making you purr.”

She loved it, too. Loved it more when he made her scream. And she wanted to scream. But if she asked for it, he wasn’t going to give it to her. Penance. This was penance. It was the worst thing he could think of doing to her.

“Think of a word,” he instructed, nipping across her butt cheek. “When you say it, it’s a serious no.”

Elliott shook her head. Not her style. “I don’t need that.”

“This isn’t a competition or a negotiation.” His massaging thumbs ceased. “A word, or I stop right now.”

She wriggled her butt, trying to entice, trying to find friction. Her splayed legs were useless to her, and all she did was scooch herself farther down. Any more, and she’d be in danger of falling onto the ass he was teasing. “No, just…”

She noticed his absence at the same time she heard a grunted sigh of resignation.

“Wait. What?” She arched herself upward to try to see over her shoulder. Jonah was sitting on the floor, leaning back on one hand, staring at her with barely concealed impatience. He wasn’t unaffected. But he wasn’t going to give her what she wanted until she complied.

Jesus, his control! Because he was denying himself, too.

“Okay!” she relented. Only because sheneededhim to relieve her, wanted him to torture her a little more so she could find her salvation at the other end. “Okay, you win.”

“I’m waiting.”

Elliott pounded her head against the covers. Of all the times for every word in her vocabulary to escape her.

“C’mon, wildcat.”

She growled. Jerk. Then she blurted out, “Meatloaf.”

He let out a short laugh. “What? Did you say meatloaf?”

“You asked for a word. Meatloaf. You were eating meatloaf, after you came back. There was no meat, but it was meatloaf.”

He laughed again, and it sounded—felt—closer. The air that had briefly cooled became electric and heavy and heated again. His nose nudged her clit and she moaned; her body jerked. The ropes snapped, and her eyes rolled back.

“Good girl.” He licked again. And again avoided the insanely aching bud that screamed for attention.

“Jonah,” she started to demand, but clamped her mouth shut. If she complained, she feared her poor clit would never have a stroke of his tongue, a touch, a suck. All she needed was one. The nudge had nearly done her in.

But he had his own agenda. It pissed off her internal monster, but at the same time, that demon was wise enough to know when it was beat. And he had complete control over her right now. She almost thanked all his deities when he began a ferocious attack: purposeful, hungry. His mouth suctioned her, drinking her arousal as his tongue thrust, encouraging more from her. She squealed and bucked. Her legs rebounded again and again from the ropes, heightening her pleasure.

His thumb pressed the puckered entrance, creating a circular motion. It was as arousing as everything else he was doing to her. She tried to arch for him, to offer more of herself, as fire blazed over her skin—through her—starting with his mouth at her core.

She cried against the covers, tugging at her arms furiously, dying to ease the storm of tension in her yet-unappeased clit. She could come anyway, just from what he was doing to her, but she so desperately needed his touch.

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