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“No one,” she breathes out so quietly, that if I wasn’t listening, I would’ve probably missed it.
“Good girl.”
I push my finger into her entrance and she’s so wet, I slide in easily, right to the knuckle before moving it back out. I push back into her with two fingers, going as deep as I can, satisfied that I made her take off my rings. Her back arches, but her ass and head are still pressed up against the bars.
She moans as my fingers quicken, hitting her deeper with every thrust, her moans and wetness deafening in the quiet space.
“Quiet now, sweetheart, or you’ll give everyone a show.”
She bites her lip in an attempt to stifle her moans, but it doesn’t do much. She looks and feels so goddamn sexy, and I’m furious the bars are restricting me from having all of her in my hands. I can feel her pussy clenching around my fingers as her breathing spirals out of control.
“Say my name, sweetheart,” I demand, waiting to finally hear her moan on my name. “Say my name when you come on my fingers.”
Her knees buckle and her hips jerk. She’s held up solely by my hand around her neck that tightens even more as she moans my name breathlessly, filling the silent walls of the prison with my goddamn fucking name whilst she comes undone.
“King!”
To hear my name from her lips again unleashes a feral need within me. To finally have her crumbling at my mercy after so many years is euphoric. And if Theo wasn’t occupying my every waking thought before, she certainly is now. I’ll never be able to unhear the way she just said my name.Never. And I’ll be damned if it’s the last time I do.
I slow my fingers as she comes down from her high, her legs finding some strength to stand up on her own, and I pull my fingers out and quickly swipe one last time over her clit, making her quiver.
I travel my hand up to her chest and over each nipple, trailing her wetness over each pebbled bud whilst she catches her breath. With difficulty, I release her neck and she turns around so I can see her in all her glory.
Her pussy is weeping, her nipples are rock-solid, and they’re glistening with her cum. The red fingerprint marks around her neck make a beautiful accessory I’d love to see on her every day.
She looks lazily up at me, biting down on her bottom lip, watching intently as I bring my fingers up to my mouth, still wet from her, and suck on them. The heat in her eyes intensifies as I taste her on my tongue.
I reach my hand out once more, grabbing her waist and snaking my arm around her back, pressing her into the metal bars. Her flesh hugs the bars, each breast sticking out in between, an invitation if I ever saw one. She hisses at the cold but softly moans as I flick her nipple with my tongue.
“Next time,” I say normally, not worried about keeping quiet anymore so she can hear the seriousness in my voice, “I’m tasting you.”
She licks her lips, about to speak before I interrupt her again.
“Put on a shower show for anyone again and I’ll make you regret it.”
I release her and walk away, disappearing out the door before I find myself turning around and breaking into her cell.
Now that I’ve felt her come undone on my fingers and briefly tasted her on my tongue, I’m not sure how I’ll ever leave this goddamn prison.
10
THEO
I’ve beenin this cell for a total of three days, roughly seventy-two hours stuck confined within the same four walls. I miss the daylight and fresh air, the sun beaming down, burning my skin until it’s a glowing tan, strays of my hair sticking to my neck as sweat beads coat the top layer of my body all over.
I even miss the rain that freezes my pores, soaks my clothing, and mats my hair. The thrill of walking under the raindrops, rinsing away your sorrows.
But the simple pleasures of Mother Nature are robbed from you in here. There’s no sun. There’s no rain. There’s just damp and cold and terribly unnatural dim lighting.
I’ve felt like a prisoner for most of my life. My father never gave me the privileges most teenage daughters had, like getting to go out with their friends, meet boys, have parties. Even the simple pleasure of going to school daily, something I know most teenagers complain about. But what wouldn’t I have done to go to school even for a day.
I’ve been home-schooled all my life. My only friends were my mother and Emerson, who technically doesn’t count considering my father paid him to watch over me. There was only one other friend I really treasured closely, but he disappeared as quickly as he came.
So feeling secluded, trapped, and like a prisoner isn’t new to me.
But no amount of exclusion or depravity from normal life would’ve compared to this. What I wouldn’t give to be stuck at my father’s mansion, at least with the freedom to roam the outdoors and the grounds without having to watch my back.
At least this place has given me Puck.
