Page 68 of The Secrets That Kill

But I can’t. To do that is going to mean me shooting my load, especially with my attention being pulled, screaming, from what she’s doing.

I stroke her cheek, letting her set the pace, letting her go at me. It’s a lesson in control for me, humiliation for her.

Stone pushes his girl gently from him and makes her put his dick away. “We’re gonna go to one of the rooms and fuck. Want to join?”

“I said you don’t touch her. She’s mine.”

He leaves and there’s another slave up on the cross, this one being eaten by another at their mistress’s orders. We’re also being watched. I feel that.

And oh, fuck, I don’t know if I can keep this up. I need to own this mouth.

My fingers curl tight in Ivy’s hair, and I start pushing her down, holding her still, then pulling her back. It’s glorious and hot as fucking hell. Each time I hit the back of her throat, she tries to speak, and the humming vibrations do things to me.

She looks like a gorgeous mess. My balls are climbing up,my spine electric, and I know I can’t hold it. I pull her down, to the base of my shaft and hold her there.

My cock jerks as her tongue works against me, and as she tries to get up and off me, to breathe, it intensifies my orgasm as it rips through my bones. I spurt and spurt, my cum hitting the back of her throat.

When I’m done, I release her. She starts to cough and splutter, her face wet, red with tears, black streaks of mascara, lipstick all over the place, spit dripping down her chin.

It’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve seen since I had her sit on my face, since I spanked her. Since I did everything to her.

“Clean me.” I rub a thumb at the corner of her mouth and she nuzzles in to me. Shit.

Ivy gets to work, lapping me up, cleaning my cock. I look up and Henderson’s gaze is locked on her.

Fuck, yes. She did it.

I’ll get a personal invite soon. An invite to the OG Broken Angel. One I’ll ignore.

When Ivy’s done, I have her put my cock away, then bring her up to my lips and kiss her. I can’t help it. She tastes sweet and a little salty. I wipe down her face a little, dry her chin.

She’s gorgeous.

“Come on, Ivy.”

She wobbles and almost falls into me. I could make her crawl, but instead, I just tell her to wait. Then I get myself a drink.

My feet slow as I walk back to her.

She can see me, which is good.

There are four men, all lifting her to her feet, touching her, hands placed on her just enough that it would feel beyond invasive. I arranged the whole thing. They’re my people. I want her scared, like a line’s been crossed and her only protector isn’t there.

Her eyes lock with mine, gray now and scared.

I falter because it hits harder than it should.

I don’t like them touching her, even if it’s orchestrated, even if I gave very explicit instructions via text on the way here. I don’t like it. At fucking all.

Actually, I want to kill them.

For obeying me.

Thank God they’re sticking to every curve of every letter I gave them.

I cross. “Get your fucking hands off my property or I’ll kill you.”

“Sorry, we thought she was fair game.”

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