Page 36 of Feast

“Don’t come without me,” she begged, wiggling her hips, trying to angle them down to scrape her pussy against the sheet. Her whine of frustration told him she hadn’t been successful.

“Better catch up, sugar,” he advised unfeelingly while his mind scrambled for something, anything, to push her over the edge. “I’m not waiting for you.”

“I hate you.”

She all but sobbed it, and really, he couldn’t blame her. Desperate, he shifted to drag one hand out from under her and shoving it into her hair, made a fist and pulled.

She let out a small squeak of surprise, then a purring growl that shot straight to his balls. Removing his other hand from her breast and planting it on the bed for leverage, he pulled harder, dragging her head back so her shoulders came up off the bed, her throat exposed and her hair tumbling over his shoulder.

Her face was so close he could feel her breath, see the bright flush on her cheeks and her glazed eyes. “Come on, sugar,” he urged. “Fucking do it.”

“I’m trying,” she managed, tears of frustration forming in her eyes. And his status as A Sick Motherfucker™ was cemented, because the sight of those tears only spurred him on.

“Try fucking harder,” he growled, tightening his fist in her hair.

“Fuck, that’s working.” She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing as her ass began to ripple on his dick. “More.”

“I swear to God if you don’t come right fucking now, I will leave you hanging,” he promised with as much menace as he could muster. “I will pull my dick out of your greedy, gaping asshole and strip off this condom and jerk off until I come all over your red ass. Then I will leave you tied to this bed, unable to even get yourself off, for the maids to find.”

She whined, a high, thin sound that told him she was balanced on the razor’s edge. He went down to his elbow, slid his hand out of her hair and wrapped it carefully around the base of her throat. Her pulse hammered under his fingers and his whole hand vibrated with her shocked moan.

“Come, goddammit,” he growled in her ear, and with a howl, she did.

He fucked her through it, using his weight to pin her down, though she nearly bucked him off. Her orgasm gave him everything he wanted—her ass clutching his dick, her pussy soaking his balls, choking wails and the bonus he didn’t know he craved, the soft rain of her tears trickling down her cheeks to her throat to bless his restraining hand.

When he felt her go limp under him, he buried his teeth in her shoulder and let himself go.

7

“Holy fuck,” Maddie managed, her words muffled by the duvet she didn’t have the strength to lift her face out of. “Did we survive?”

Her answer was a grunt, loud in her ear, from the dead weight on top of her.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” she sighed. “Are you going to fall asleep again?”

That got her a louder grunt, then a grumbling, “Don’t tempt me,” before he shifted off her to collapse on the bed beside her.

Though it seemed a monumental task, she made the effort to open her eyes. The hotel room looked the same, which confused her for a moment. Surely the cataclysmic explosion she’d just experienced had broken a lamp, or at least moved the bed. But apparently, all the destruction had taken place internally.

She felt it everywhere. Her butt and thighs still burned, her asshole felt as though she’d been fucked by a battering ram—in a really good way—and his teeth marks were throbbing in her shoulder. Plus—

“My shoulders are starting to cramp,” she told him.

“Yeah, they probably are.” The bed bounced beneath her cheek when he rolled off it. “Hang on and I’ll get you undone.”

“Appreciate it,” she murmured, drifting a little while he worked to untie her, his gentle tugs of the rope almost soothing. “How does my ass look?”

“Red,” he said bluntly and gave her left cheek a gentle stroke before pulling the loosened rope from around her wrists. “Sitting might be interesting for a bit.”

Taking it philosophically, she rolled her sore shoulders in a stiff shrug. “Maybe the gift shop has a doughnut pillow I can buy.”

He snickered and began to unravel the rope around her left ankle. “If they do, bill it to my room.”

“Count on it,” she murmured and carefully stretched her arms out to the sides.

Her left ankle free, he shifted his attention to the right one, his hand braced on the inside of her knee as he worked. It was heavy and warm, and she liked how it felt there. When he stood and his hand dropped away, she bit her lip to keep from murmuring her disappointment.

“Arms doing okay?” he asked, bringing her back to the moment.

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