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"What do you want me to concentrate on, Aidan?" I snapped at him, outrage and annoyance spewing from the words.
"Brunch."
Nostrils flaring in annoyance, eyes clenching as a vibration hit one of my sweet spots, I ground out, "Brunch, I forgot. We arranged it before your father’s death." A breath whistled from between my teeth as the vibrations doubled down.
"How about you tell me what you learned from tonight?"
"Oh, my GOD!" I shrieked, my legs slamming together, restraints be damned, as I felt that buzz deep in my core. Tireless, ceaseless. It wouldn’t stop before it broke me— "It was… I was… You were… We were, I’m nottousesextocontrolyoubecauseyou’reacontrol FREAK!"
The buzzing stopped.
A harsh breath escaped me, and through the blur that came from the tears leaking from my eyes, I turned my face to the side as he stepped over to the bed.
His fingers were slick—oh God, from his pre-cum?—as they gently traced over my wrists.
"I didn’t think this would get you so hot," he mused as I winced at where the skin had rubbed raw from my movements. "Short-sighted of me," he continued, that same musing tone still lacing his goddamn words. "Brats like boundaries."
Outrage had me retorting, "I’m not a brat."
"You’re the dictionary definition of a brat," he disregarded with a hum. "Luckily for you, I like a side of discipline with my fucking—"
"All you Catholics are the same," I jibed, but he ignored me.
"—so if you move your wrists one more time, if I hear the cuffs rattle against the frame, I will stop whatever I’m doing, do you hear me?WhateverI’m doing, little one."
I heard the warning, and knowing that he was a bastard who would leave me in the lurch, one quite capable of tying his wife to the bed to go and do mobster stuff all while said wife creamed herself silly in their marital bed, I quickly promised, "I won’t move my hands."
And not only because I didn’t want him to stop whatever he had in mind but because they were fucking hurting as well.
Gracing me with a smile, he let his fingers trail over my arm, down my chest. He rubbed them around my nipple then pinched, making me jerk in response. He moved over my stomach, the caress almost ticklish enough that my belly turned concave—fuck, that almost made me move my upper body.
He switched gears by letting the tips drift through the landing strip that was the welcome beacon to my pussy.
Slowly, he retrieved the vibrator and pulled it out, tossing it onto the bed at my side.
With the flat of his hand, he tapped my pussy. Once. Twice. It gave off a weird thudding sound because I was dripping wet.
I didn’t have it in me to be embarrassed because he found my slit with two fingers and thrust inside.
Heat.
Him.
Not silicone.
My pussy knew the difference just as well as my brain did.
The butt of his hand ground into my clit as he speared them into me, driving them deep. I shrieked as, in a pathetically short amount of time, my overeager body soared high, exploding as he graced me with the smallest amount of attention.
I screamed when the orgasm blasted me between the eyes, and it just made it so much better when he said, "You’re so fucking beautiful when you come for me, Savannah. So fucking beautiful. So perfect. This cunt was made for me, wasn’t it?" Amid the whirring praise that spiraled in my brain, he suddenly paused. "Did I hear a rattle?"
Amid the glut of pleasure hitting me in the face, within that chaos, I knew to freeze.
"No! It wasn’t! I didn’t move my hands!" I whined, but his fingers were already leaving me.
The orgasm wasn’t broken, but fuck if I hated that he moved away…
Of course, when he lifted that hand to his mouth and sucked on the digits, I released a guttural groan.
