Page 45 of Delicious Prey

“Kneel,” he says again, and I fall to my knees.

When I see the black tie in his hand, I look up at him and meet the eyes that are still giving nothing away.

“Is this a formal occasion?” I deadpan, and I’m rewarded with the tiniest of smirks before the mask falls back into place and he grabs the end of the belt, giving it a hard tug that forces me to quickly scoot closer on my knees. I notice he didn’t set me down on the soft, shaggy rug. The hardwood flooring digs into my knees, the sharp, aching pain a reminder that this is supposed to be a bit uncomfortable.

He cups my face, running his thumb over my cheek, giving me this moment of sweetness. I lean into his touch and close my eyes, but his voice has me opening them again. The hard look is back in his eyes when he says, “Try to take it like a good girl, zaika, but if it’s too much, tap my thigh, and I’ll stop.”

I swallow and nod my head, wondering just what in the hell I’ve signed myself up for. Keeping the belt wrapped around one hand, he opens the tie and presses it against my eyes, tying it tightly behind my head, surrounding me in darkness. There’s something about having your vision taken away that immediately throws you into panic mode. My breathing picks up, and I turn my head. Why? I’m not sure. It just feels right, like I’m trying to hear what the hell is about to happen. I remind myself that I’m not a goddamn bat, and echolocation is not a skill that’s magically going to appear just because I’ve got a fucking tie around my eyes.

All my senses perk up when I hear his zipper being pulled down and then the sound of his jeans being peeled off before dropping to the floor. I hear him step closer, but he doesn’t touch me. My wrists are still being held up at my chest, almost as if I’m kneeling and praying before my god, which I guess isn’t all that far off. Religion hasn’t ever done much for me, but this man who’s just bound me and put me on my knees regularly gives me glimpses of heaven.

I sigh when I feel his fingers dancing along my collarbone, tracing the line of my neck before wrapping his long fingers around it and holding me in place.

“The next time I tell you to do something, are you going to do it?” he asks.

I lick my lips and debate lying, but decide there’s no point in it. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” he repeats, the disbelief obvious in his tone. “What the fuck does that mean, little bunny?”

“It means that I will if I agree with it.”

He lets out a harsh laugh. “So much to learn,” he murmurs, tightening his grip on my throat, not enough to block the airflow, but enough to constrict the hell out of it.

“Open,” he growls.

I open wide for him, waiting for what I know is coming. He keeps me waiting on my knees, hands bound and mouth hanging open until my jaw aches and spit is puddling under my tongue. I resist the urge to close my mouth and swallow. I hold still until the spit starts to drip down my chin. His deep groan when he sees it lets me know I made the right choice. The feel of his thick head brushing against my lips startles me enough to make me gasp. My head pulls back on instinct, but the tight grip on my neck makes it impossible for me to move. I know I can tap his thigh at any time and this will all stop, but there’s no way in hell I’m doing that.

With my knees in agony and my vision gone, I run my tongue over his head before wrapping my lips around him and sucking him in deeper. He growls something in Russian and widens his stance so he can reach me easier. His thumb gently caresses my throat, and I know he’s telling me to prepare myself for what’s about to happen. I take in a deep, steadying breath, and as soon as I exhale, he slams into me, feeding me his cock in one hard thrust. I don’t even get a chance to gag before he’s down my throat, blocking my air and making my eyes water.

“So fucking beautiful,” he growls, holding me in place, watching me choke on his cock.

I will my body to relax, giving myself over to him completely. My lungs burn right along with my jaw and my knees, but I don’t tap his thigh. I don’t want it to stop.

“I need to know you’re going to listen to me, zaika,” he growls. His accent is much thicker, his voice strained, his whole body radiating with tension. “I need to know you’re safe. If I tell you to do something, it’s because there’s a reason for it. Last night you got lucky. You could’ve been killed.”

His voice is laced with pain when he adds, “I couldn’t go on without you. I have to keep you safe, and you have to let me.”

My lungs are screaming for air, and I let out a soft moan when spots start to fill my vision. He waits a second longer before finally sliding out and allowing me a quick breath. The reprieve doesn’t last long. Once I get that first sweet inhale, he slams back into me, and this time he doesn’t stop. He fucks my mouth in a brutal, hard rhythm, and all I can do is take it. This isn’t a sexy blowjob where I can tease him with my lips and tongue. This is purely about him using my mouth to get off. Spit drips down my chin, tears soak his tie and fall down my cheeks, and I love every goddamn second of it.

He tugs on the belt, bringing my hands further up, and when my fingers meet his balls, I know what he wants. I run my fingers over him, lightly dragging my nails along the underside of his heavy sack as he lets out another deep groan. I’m expecting to feel the pulse of his cock as he lets go, but at the last minute, he pulls from my aching mouth right before I feel the wet heat of him hit my face. He groans as more of his seed hits my parted lips and chin.

When he’s empty, I run my tongue over my lips and fill my mouth with him while he lets out another groan at the sight of it. Letting go of the belt, my arms fall down, and before I can register what’s happening, I’m in his arms and his mouth is on me. The kiss is hungry, demanding, and messy because I’m still covered in his release. There’s always something feral right below the surface of Kirill, and when he unleashes that side of himself, it’s overwhelming in the best possible way. Our tongues collide, each of us hungry and desperate for the other. I’m already soaking wet, dripping down my thighs as I moan and bring my hands up to rest on his chest.

“Fucking hell,” he groans against my lips, cupping the back of my head and lowering me to the floor as he settles between my legs. “Do you feel what you do to me?”

He’s already hard again, and when he presses against my wet slit, I moan his name and wrap my bound wrists behind his head while I spread my thighs wider. He nudges my slit, pressing in just enough to make me mewl at the feel of him and arch my hips, so fucking desperate to get him inside me.

“Promise me you’re going to listen to me next time, zaika.”

I let out a frustrated groan and wrap my legs around him, trying to force him into me.

“Promise me,” he repeats, knowing there’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to overpower him. He teases me with the head of his cock, gently pushing in just a little bit more before taking it away and leaving me feeling emptier than I ever thought possible.

“I promise,” I gasp, digging my fingers into his back and wishing I could see his face. “I promise I’ll listen next time, just please fuck me.”

“I love you,” he whispers against my lips as he slides into me.

“I love you,” I whisper back right before his tongue finds mine again and everything else fades away.

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