Page 102 of Kept

Taking the hair, I criss-cross the braids over her shoulders, looping them underneath her breasts and tugging hard enough to make her gasp. “It’s a useful skill,” I whisper in her ear. “As you’ll find out.”

I can’t do a typical chest harness when my rope is attached to Zella’s head, so I improvise. Positioning the bight at the center of her back, I draw the working ends through and wind them around her, moving in the opposite direction. When I reach her back again, I draw the ends up through the loop and bring them around one more time, this time above her chest, wrapping the ends underneath the rope stem I’ve created to lie vertically against her spine.

She presses her face into my chest as I work. “You smell really good.”

“Thank you.” I create the half hitch, making a loop in the ends and bringing the rope over the stem and back, tugging it to tighten and wrapping the last piece of her braid around it, making sure it’s secure.

When I sit back, I have to run a hand over my mouth. “Well,” I say roughly. “Shibari suits you, Zella.”

She smiles up at me shyly, tied up with her own fucking hair and open for my touch. “I think so, too.” She wriggles. “It’s surprisingly comfortable.”

I run a teasing finger down the arch of her foot, and she squeals, unable to move away. “This is about pleasure for both of us,” I say quietly. “I want you to think of a word. One you’ll use if you want me to stop. If you say it, I’ll stop immediately, Zella. I’ll untie you straight away. Do you understand?”

She nods, and I can see her thinking. “Rodin,” she blurts out finally, and I blink.

The laugh catches in my chest. “An erotic sculptor for your safe word. Appropriate.”

She manages to shrug, even as that perfect blush makes its way over her face again. “It seemed appropriate.”

Her words trail into a soft moan as I press my head against her entrance, sinking in slowly as she watches our joining with hooded eyes. I slide out, slowly, keeping up the movements until she’s twisting within her bindings. “More.”

Her mewled demand draws a smile to my lips. “As my lady commands.”

Her laugh cuts off in a choke as I thrust, hard, pinning her back to the bed and fucking her with every inch of the lust that’s consumed me ever since I saw her in that fucking dungeon.

She tries to speak, but all that comes out is jolted sounds, jagged and needy, torn from her throat as I bury myself inside her.

“Your tight little pussy feels like heaven,” I tell her roughly. My hands land on either side of her shoulders as our hips slap together, the rough sound of our breathing and the wetness of our movements filling the room with savage desire. She moans and I pull back, my fingers finding her clit and pinching it. Her hips buck wildly, and I tweak her clit again, just to hear that noise pulled deep from her throat.

“Maverick,” she gasps, and the sound of my name on her lips does something to me, drives me to thrust deeper, faster, until she’s convulsing around my cock, her cries rasping as I empty myself inside her with a bellow. My release sends white lights across my eyes, and I look down, half expecting to see her stomach swollen with all the fucking cum I’ve just pumped into her.

Also… fuck.

“Birth control,” I say hoarsely as I reluctantly pull out of her. My release trickles from her opening and I gather it up with my fingers, pushing it inside.

Tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow.

Zella twitches, and I shift to untie the makeshift ropes. Her limbs flop down to the bed as she’s released, and she watches me through half-closed eyes as I grab a pot from my bedside drawer. “What’s that?”

“Cream.” I dip my fingers in and begin massaging it into her reddened skin, drinking down the little noises she makes as my fingers knead her muscles. “You’ll be sore tomorrow.”

“Worth it,” she whispers, and I press a kiss against her lips. “When can we do it again?”

I give her a stern look. “When the marks have gone down.”

She gives me a full-blown pout that she’s clearly learned from Ryder, and I smirk. “Plenty of other things we can do.”

She stumbles sleepily to the bathroom and I quickly swap the sheets for clean ones. When she wraps her arms around me from behind, I turn, and she smiles at me.

I wrap my hand around her hair, tilting her face up to mine.

“Why don’t I have a nickname?” she asks me. “Enzo calls me little prey. Ryder calls me princess, or little thief. But you… you don’t call me anything.”

My hand slides around her throat, cupping her possessively. As I grip her throat and breathe her in, her legs buckle and I drag her closer.

“You have one,” I breathe. “Mine.”

She flushes scarlet, but a grin lights up her face as I nudge her into bed and tug the covers over us. As I settle her against me and sink my face into her neck, she turns, her lips brushing mine. “Night, Daddy Mav,” she whispers.

---