Page 97 of Wicked Queen

“I think you’re overheating,” I said. “Let’s take care of that.” I dropped my hold on the strap and her dress fluttered to her waist, exposing her breasts.

“Perfect,” I said, leaning down I caught the peak in my mouth, but I didn’t suck. Instead I bit. Clara gasped, her hands gripping my hair. She didn’t try to pull away. Instead she writhed against the bite until she was panting. I released it, admiring the teeth marks. “And the other?”

Another slide of the throat and a nod, her eyes bright. I wouldn’t stop until the light faded and I knew she’d entered another place that only I could take her.

I caught the other one, biting down and then sucking it hard until she cried out. When I stopped she was was shaking. I paused, looking her over, until I discerned it was pleasure.

Straightening, I pushed her dress to the floor. It puddled at her feet and I helped her step from it. Taking her hand, I led her to the wall.

“Do you know that I planned to take you here for days? That I pictured you standing naked amongst what others consider priceless? These are masterpieces, and you outshine them all.” I turned her to face the wall, running my eyes along her backside to where my last marks had faded. Lifting her hands, I placed them on the wall, before I knelt behind her. Gripping her hips, I kissed her tailbone, trailing my tongue down until I came to the curve of her ass.

“My marks have faded,” I told her, kissing the spot. “Would you like more?”

“Yes, please.”

“Please what?” I wanted to hear her say it. I needed to hear it spill from her mouth as wantonly as her pleasure. The permission and the desire were intoxicating. Knowing she not only gave herself to me fully, but that she wanted it as much as I did, was the sexiest thing in the world.

“Please mark me. Please own me,” she whispered. It wasn’t timid but rather reverent.

“I will not stop until I’m satisfied and until you’re marked properly, Poppet. I will stop only if you use your safe word. I will not stop if you scream, although”—I laughed at the thought—“the sound will carry. The guards won’t let anyone in but you may consider placing your arm near your mouth.”

Clara shifted her arm, dropping her to cheek to it. I loved how she responded to each suggestion like a command, her submission as natural to her now as I’d dreamed it could be. She moaned when my teeth clamped onto the soft flesh and pulled slightly. The first bite was gentle, and I wondered if the simple act would be enough to satisfy me. My palms itched at the thought of smacking her ass, defiling her amongst the art that couldn’t touch her. But that sound would carry as well, and these sessions needed to remain private—a blasphemous communion more pure than any other.

When I released her, I massaged the spot before turning to the parallel cheek. This time, I bit down harder, paying attention to the skin’s resistance until I knew I’d brought it as close as I could. Clara shifted in her heels and when I pulled away, her mouth was pressed to her arm, imprisoning her cries. I rubbed the spot and whispered praise, “Perfect and strong. Your skin loves it as much as I do.”

I continued, aware of every flinch of her body and every whimpered cry. But there were no safe words, and with each assault, her scent bloomed in my nostrils. When bite marks covered her tender flesh, I ran my hands over them, feeling the indentations along my fingertips. Clara’s head fell to the side, her breathing heavy and laboured. My cock ached from drinking in the redness that covered both sets of cheeks.

“Mine.” I kissed each mark before spreading her open and dipping my mouth to run along her slick heat.

“Oh,” she gasped as my tongue plunged inside her. She tasted like heaven—or as close as a man like me would ever come. I continued to devour her but this time all I cared about was her pleasure. There was no pain except the lingering sting of her submission.

“X,” she called as her body continued to tremble, “I need you to fuck me. Please, I need your cock.”

It was hard to refuse, even if I wasn’t through with my plans for her, but I’d never been able to deny her that. I pushed to my feet and whipped my belt loose, opening my fly to free my cock. It fell heavily into my hand.

“Thank God for high heels,” I said as I moved behind her. She giggled, the sound settling like a melody over my heart. Leaning against her, I drew her hands over her and pinned them together in one of mine. “A little wider.”

She stepped to the side, allowing me better access, and I positioned my cock at her entrance, slipping the tip inside her.

“You asked nicely, but what did you do wrong, Poppet?” I had her at my mercy, which was the best opportunity for education.

“I spoke.” She sounded crestfallen by her mistake.

“When I told you not to.” I kissed her shoulder to give her some comfort. “You always have a voice with me, but when you submit to me, you only have one word.”

She nodded.

“Good girl,” I soothed her. “Now you have your voice back. What do you need to ask me?”

“To fuck me,” she said, the edge of desperation there. I could already feel her channel tightening against my tip. She wouldn’t last through one thrust. “Please will you fuck me?”

“Yes, Poppet.” I wanted to slam into her. Instead, I slid in inch-by-inch knowing it would dull her orgasm into a lingering ache that primed her for another.

She cried out as I tortured her with deliberation, enjoying each pulse squeezing my cock and drawing me toward my own release. Her breath turned to pants, shallow and near panic as the climax failed to diminish.

“Now you’re ready,” I whispered before thrusting into her. We moved together in a rhythm that belonged only to us— a symphony of pain and bliss we wrote together.

She went limp with a strangled cry, and I caught her quickly, keeping her on her feet. Her body sagged against me, her face turning up to give me her mouth. The last bit of her to claim. I captured it with my own and erased the rest of her world and replaced it with me.