Page 53 of Deceiver

“If you need me to, you would ask,” he growls, gripping my chin and tipping my head back.

Him being this close, it’s doing things to me. Things I shouldn’t be wanting yet I am. His mouth is only an inch away from mine, and the desperation I feel right now is almost out of control. I want him to kiss me. I need him to. I just want everything to disappear for one minute, just one damned minute.

“Kiss me,” I say, locking eyes with him. “I need you to kiss me.”

He doesn’t release my chin; instead, he slowly leans forward, bringing his mouth to mine. Never once has Western kissed me after I’ve demanded it, and the sensation it brings to me makes my body come to life. His lips are my heaven, and the way they move over mine, his tongue occasionally dancing with mine, has me weak at the knees. I need him more than I’m willing to admit–or accept.

His kiss deepens, and my fingers grow a mind of their own, reaching for him, curling around his arm. He doesn’t like being touched, but I’m surprised to see him allow this. His muscle jumps beneath my palm, and I squeeze, kissing him harder, until my mouth burns from the scratch of his beard. A throaty sound escapes his lips, a sound of pleasure that I rarely hear from him, and it only spurs me on.

His hand slides down the side of my body, gripping my thigh.

He squeezes, making me wince as he pulls it up and around his waist.

I’m wearing jeans, but that doesn’t stop the thrilling sensation of his cock rubbing right against my pussy, a tease of what’s to come.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he murmurs against my lips.

“Do you want to fuck me?” I throw back, daring to slide my hand from his arm. I move it up slowly, until it is curled around the back of his neck.

His eyes flare, but he doesn’t stop me.

“You have no fuckin’ idea.”

He reaches down and hauls me up until both legs are around his waist. He walks me to the sofa and places me down, before stepping back. “Strip.”

I stare at him, knowing this is the moment I should be walking away, but, instead, my fingers go to my jeans and slowly I begin unbuttoning them. Little by little, I let them slide down my thighs. Then, I reach for my top, pulling it over my head, my braless breasts jutting out and bouncing as I do. Western enjoys this, his growl is low and pleased as I stand before him, naked.

“Bend over that chair,” he orders, pointing to the sofa. “Put your hands behind your back.”

I comply, moving toward the sofa. I kneel down on it, and then slide my body over so my bottom is exposed to him. When I’m comfortable, I bring my hands around behind my back. Western shuffles about, and then I feel a soft rope securing my hands. My eyes widen, but I don’t stop him– my curiosity far outweighs any panic I feel. He hasn’t tied me tight enough that I’m worried, but just enough to keep me where I am.

Running his finger down my spine, he stops at my bottom. I hold my breath, not entirely sure where he is about to go with whatever it is he’s going to do. Moving his finger away, I twist my neck to see what he’s doing. He stands just at the foot of the sofa, stripping down his clothes until he’s butt naked. Gosh, I want to see more of him. So much more. His cock, already throbbing and hard, juts out as he approaches.

He sits himself down on the sofa beside me, and then with one quick movement, he reaches out and grabs hold of me, pulling me so my pussy is directly over his face. He shifts us until my legs go over his shoulders. Pinning me down with his arms over my thighs and his hands on my lower back, he holds me there, basically sitting on his head. His tongue lashes out, sliding up my already wet pussy, and I gasp. God, that feels incredible. Using my hips, I gently pulsate against his face, getting the perfect rhythm. I’ve never had a man go down on me quite like this, it's thrilling and, at the same time, incredibly confronting.

I have to trust him to hold me up entirely, because my arms are still bound behind my back. His hands are the only things stopping me from toppling off him and falling on my back. He’s hanging onto me just enough to ensure that doesn’t happen. His tongue, doing wicked dances between my legs, is bringing me closer and closer to the orgasm I’ve been so desperately needing. I grind my hips as best I can, shoving myself into him, so his tongue goes deeper, harder.

I’m moaning, the sound echoing through the room as my release builds higher and higher.

I find it with a scream of his name, shuddering against him, my thighs tightening as my body jerks.

Before I know it, he is flipping me off him, a low growl in his throat as he hauls my body up and over the back of the sofa once more, as if I weigh nothing. He’s behind me in seconds, his hands curling around my restraints and jerking my arms back just enough to send a slither of pain up my spine. Then, he buries his cock into me. I gasp, lurching forward, but he keeps me in position by holding my bound hands.

Then he fucks me.

He fucks me with a roll of his hips that is precise and perfect.

He fucks me slow, then hard, until my body is trembling, and my knees threaten to give way.

He fucks me in a way I’ve never been fucked before.

His hands jerks on my restraints as he picks up the pace, and, before I know it, I’m screaming out his name with another orgasm.

“Fuck. I love your little cunt,” he growls as he buries his cock deeper, as deep as he can possibly get it.

Then, he finds his release with a bellow that has my skin prickling. His body shudders behind me and the sensation that gives me is thrilling to say the least.

As he slowly comes to a stop, his body relaxing, I take a minute to process what we’ve just done.

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