“And what exactly does this destruction entail?”
My words are barely audible, and he remains silent for a moment, pondering until he eventually answers, turning his head to gaze at my side profile.
“I want to stretch and fill each of your tiny holes with my cock and come. I want to make sure you don’t walk back out of my fucking bedroom the same girl you were when you walked into it.”
His raw honesty thrills me, but it also causes me to stay silent as I consider it since he is asking for far more than Chaos would, but Reign isn't Chaos, and Chaos isn't Reign, which is exactlywhy I love this whole fucked up scenario. He draws back until he is peering into my heavy eyes, while I can't seem to get any words out and when he continues calmly, his gaze drops to my lips.
“Meet me upstairs.”
He pushes his bulky frame off the rail, allowing me a chance to breathe, but I find my voice as he turns around.
“And what happens if I don't come upstairs, Reign?”
As he responds, he strides toward the door.
“Then I'll come, and fucking find you.”
With his hand on the door, he glances over his shoulder at me, our eyes colliding.
“And you don’t want that.”
When he enters the house, I roll my eyes and face away, and I stand there for some time, unsure whether I should do this, but when a sudden shiver shoots up my spine again, I swiftly lunge forward toward the door.
As soon as I step inside, I discover that everyone has gone to bed except Callie and Lana, who are on the couches. They observe my every move as I stroll in the direction of the kitchen to pour myself one last strong drink. Once it’s poured, I fire it back in one shot and cringe as it burns my throat while I set the glass down on the counter. I exhaled an uneasy breath before straightening my shoulders and finally ascending the flight of stairs.
I stroll slowly up the long corridor and come to a halt outside of Chaos’s bedroom door, peering off into the distance at Reign’s. I'm not sure what's holding me back. Is it a source of shame? Is it because the guy is nine years older than me and clearly very, very experienced? Is it fear of what he might do that I won't enjoy? Is it because I am still a little fucking pussy?
Chaos and my Nana's words about having fun and living life to the fullest resound through my mind, prompting me to take a stride forward, bracing myself for what lies ahead. I pause for a while outside of his door, which is ajar, before finally gently laying my palm on the wood, easing it open.
As I creep into the huge, dimly lit room, I notice him immediately in the far corner, seated in a chair, now shirtless with a glass of whiskey in his tatted hand. We stare at one another as I close the door behind me before leaning against it. Once I've coaxed some courage from myself, I push myself off the oak and stride toward him, my heels clicking on the dark floorboards.
When I'm about halfway across, he casually raises his finger with the hand holding his whiskey, causing me to come to a standstill. His devious gaze wanders over my body before he brings his whiskey to his lips, takes a sip and as it burns his throat, he hisses, his eyes flashing to mine.
“Take your dress off.”
I want to ask him, isn't that your job? Shouldn't you just rip it off me and toss it across the room? But instinct tells me that he knows exactly what he is doing and what he wants, so I reach around without hesitation and drag the zip down while holdinghis focused stare. When it reaches the top of my ass, I slip each strap over my shoulders before pushing it over the curves of my hips until it pools at my feet.
Once I kick it to the side, I don’t stop there, and I reach around once more, unclipping my bra, which I allow to fall away from my body, leaving me in only my heels and black lace panties for him. As he maintains his relaxed posture, his dark eyes ravage every inch of me.
“To your knees.”
I carefully lower myself to my knees at his order, and he sits forward, placing his glass of whiskey on the small table beside him. When he returns his gaze to mine, he rests his fully inked forearms on his muscular thighs and points to the floor between them.
“Crawl to me like a little fucking slut.”
I still do as I'm told, thrilled by his degrading words and place my palms on the chilly floor before bending over and crawling to him, prowling while maintaining intense eye contact the entire time. He observes my figure swaying as I edge closer, and I come to a stop when my face is near his, peering into his dark orbs through my thick lashes.
He glances around my face; the sheer animalistic look in his eyes almost makes my toes scrunch before he settles back and removes his belt from his black, tight pants. He leans forward as I sit back like his good girl, taking his lead, and he sets the belt over the front of my throat, then forces my arms behind my back before fastening the belt around my wrists, fully restraining me.
I've read about this kinky shit, but I never expected to experience it firsthand; in any case, I'm suddenly up for the wild ride in thehands of Reign. When he has me completely at his mercy, he tightly snatches my throat with his big palm, forcing me to gaze up at him.
“Such a good girl.”
I bite my bottom lip, relishing his praise, and he observes the movement before sliding his palm to the back of my neck. He keeps going until he gets a firm hold on the back of my hair and leans back in his chair again.
I watch intently as he unzips his pants, anticipation building as his hand disappears into his black Calvin's and as soon as he finally reveals his cock, I can't stop my eyes from widening at the sight. My mouth waters as I take in the full ladder of piercings that armor his big, veiny weapon from bottom to top.
Silent and captivated, I make no sound as he presents his heavy shaft to me, a silent invitation hanging in the air for me to give him head. Without hesitation, I lean forward, drawn by eagerness, and lower my lips onto him.
