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“Fuck. I shouldn’t be doing this.”
But he does anyway.
He’s gentle in the way his finger pulls them down, careful not to touch the welts across my skin. And his breath is skimming my exposed, private area. The place I’m throbbing the most. The pooling of anticipation. The ache so internal, I’m squeezing my thighs together to keep it all in. Dessin notices.
“Open for me,” he says, low and ragged with need.
I exhale slowly, letting my thighs drift apart, far enough to let him decide what he wants to do next. He watches me like a man starved, a hungry beast waiting to devour.
“Do your wrists hurt?”
I look up at my arms over my head. I hadn’t noticed. Yes. No. Yes. Kind of, not really at the moment.
He nods as if understanding my confusion about what I’m feeling.
“Hook your legs over my shoulders. I’ll hold you up.” Dessin guides my legs on either side of his neck, then slides his hands over the roundness of my butt. Groaning as he squeezes. And he does it, stands up straight to his full six feet and four inches. My wrists are no longer straining against the metal shackles. He’s tall enough that my arms hang loosely only an inch or two above my head.
“Thank you.” I breathe out, relieved.
But the moment to relax is gone. He couldn’t wait any longer, dipping his face directly between my legs to consume my heat, my desire, my wetness as if his life depended on it. And those plush lips kiss my clit, once, twice, and then his tongue, testing the waters, taking a long taste of my center.
We both moan at the same time. I don’t know what this is. I’ve heard Scarlett talk about doing it to other women, but the thought of having it done to me has never crossed my mind.
“Wider, baby,” he orders. My legs slide farther away from his neck and he’s done holding himself back, done making slow strokes with his tongue.
He collides with my pussy, teeth grazing my clit, and then with one unexpected motion, that tongue sinks inside of me. Blazing fire ripples deep in my stomach, curling my toes over his back.
“Fuck!” I grit out.
His growl of approval vibrates between my legs and I throw my head back again, letting out strange, needy noises for more.
“I need you.” I’m practically sobbing at his savage mouth feasting on me, melting inside of me, turning my bones into pudding.
He lifts his head to look at me, eyes foggy and unfocused, as if he’s under a spell, bound by a coma slipping over his consciousness. “Say that again.”
I blink down at him. “I need you, Dessin.”
“Again.” He removes a hand from my backside, angling a hooked finger to slide inside of me, slowly, agonizingly slow, until he stops pushing at the knuckle. That fingertip presses against a spot in a pulsating rhythm. He’s scratching an itch or soothing a burn. I can’t tell. I can’t think.
“Say it,” he barks, but his tone is weak and strained.
“God. I need you. I’ll always need you.” I’m bucking against him hysterically. Ravenously chasing that energy building around his finger. I would be embarrassed if I wasn’t so high on unquenchable lust.
“There,” he says. “You’re going to come on my tongue. And when you do, I want you to scream my fucking name.”
I’m hyperventilating. His dark voice is torturous and only adding to my building tension.
“Do you understand? I don’t give a damn who hears you.”
I nod quickly. And he’s lowered to my clit again, sucking and lapping me up. That finger drums against that spot, and it’s over.
As if I’m spilling my soul to the floor, tumbling down a cliff, every cell, every muscle goes up in rapturous flames. “Dessin!” I howl, my thighs clenching around his head as the world goes black and cloudy. I’m floating above him, no longer trapped, no longer a patient. It’s just me and him and his mouth eating me up.
A moment passes, and I go limp and floppy over his shoulders. He laughs, lowering my legs to dangle above the ground again. Rushing to the lever attached to my chains, twisting as fast as he can until I’m a pile of sludge on the cold ground.
Dessin catches my head before I let it flop to the tile. And he’s staring down at me, wiping sweat from my forehead, tucking loose strands of wavy locks behind my ears.
“I don’t care that she was coincidentally interrupted by the blonde bitch. I’ll sever that bony arm from her body the moment we get to leave.” His attention is sucked in by the welts burning over my skin. His brow furrows in a vengeful need to carry out his threat now.
