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"No, I wouldn't," I whisper boldly. "The more I push back, the more you like it, Bronx. Everyone else in your life does exactly like you tell them to do. You say jump, and they jump. You freaking love that I don't."
"Yeah? You think so?" He unloops my destroyed dress from around my wrists, dropping it off the side of the bed, and picks up his rope. "Put your hands together in front of you. Like this." He demonstrates where he wants them, indicating he wants them at chest level with my hands together as if I'm praying, and then waits for me to obey before he nods.
"I know so," I say as he sets to work on the rope, wrapping it around my wrists twice before he loops it through and ties it off in a knot. He then wraps it around my arms twice, securing them in place, before he loops the end through near my wrists.
"Your smart-ass mouth makes my cock fucking throb," he admits as he wraps the rope around the ties and then around my body again. "But that doesn't mean I won't turn that gorgeous ass red, Dilemma." He flicks his gaze up to me again, smirking. "Any excuse you give me to get my hands on that gorgeous ass, I'm taking."
"You just want to punish me," I mutter.
"No. I just want to wreck you." He continues wrapping and looping and tying off the rope until there's just a small section left. He wraps it around my wrists and then tucks it through the rest, hiding it. "I want you ruined, thinking about me and my cock day and night, Gemma. I want you unable to breathe without remembering what I feel like on top of you, inside of you, all over you." His eyes glitter as they meet mine. "I want you, every goddamn minute of the day. Period."
I swallow hard, my heart thudding so loud I'm sure he hears it. If that isn't a declaration of how he feels, I don't know what is.
"How do you feel?"
"I…" For a long moment, I don't know what to say. It feels…terrifying and incredible and like Christmas and Halloween on the same day. And then I realize he's talking about the ropes, not about what he just said. "Perfect," I whisper. "I feel perfect."
I'm not just talking about the ropes. With him, I feel perfect. If there was a question, I think I just found my answer. I don't care how terrifying it is to give my heart over to this man, it's his. Every single piece of it. I'm not holding any of it back. I'm not questioning it anymore. I'm his. Every part of me.
"Good." He grins, a wicked, unrepentant grin that sends a shiver through me as he reaches for the second length of rope. "Now for the fun part."
"I thought earlier was the fun part."
"Spread your legs, Dilemma."
I obediently wriggle until my legs are spread a little further apart.
Bronx nods and wraps the length of rope around my waist before tying it off. From there, he brings it down my hip and then around my thigh. His knuckles drag across my center, making me moan.
"The fun part," he breathes softly, looping the rope up and tying it over my hip. He then pulls it around to the back, running his hand across my ass before he ties it to the length around my waist.
"You meant the torturous part," I groan, on to his game. He's going to spend the entire time tormenting me with little teasing touches, just trying to drive me crazy. It'll be fun for him, and torture for me. I think that's exactly what he was counting on. The man doesn't play fair. At all.
"Same difference," he says with a wicked chuckle, running his hand down my ass. He dips it between my legs from behind, making me gasp. One finger plunges into me, his thumb pressing against my clit.
He's gone again before I can even enjoy it, removing his hand to continue tying me.
I glare at him. "You want me to kick you."
"Try it," he suggests. "See how far it gets you." He plunges his hand between my legs, grinding his palm against me. As soon as I push back against him, he removes it, going back to his rope as if he didn't touch me at all.
I bite my lip to keep from sobbing.
He keeps on and on, touching me, stroking me, plunging one finger inside of me, only to completely remove it before I can even get used to the fact that it's there at all. Each time, he goes back to tying me, smirking as if he knows exactly what he's doing to me. As if he's just waiting for me to snap and try to kick him. It's what he wants me to do. He wants me to give him a reason to punish me.
I resist for as long as I can, fighting the urge as it builds just as high as the desire surging through me. But the minute he smears my juices on his cock and starts stroking himself, I snap.
I lunge at him, too turned on to think straight. Too turned on to think at all. He's torturing me and I can't take it anymore. I need to come more than I need my next breath.
He grabs me by the harness, flipping me onto my stomach. My cheek lands against the pillow, my ass in the air. Thanks to the way I'm tied, I can't fight back. I can't even move.
I sob in frustration as he licks me from behind, using just the tip of his tongue. He doesn't put it anywhere I need it. God, no. He runs it around my hole, teasing, teasing, teasing.
"You think you're in charge here, Gemma? You think you decide anything?" His hand comes down on my ass in a hardslap that sends a pulse straight to my clit. "Toys don't make decisions. They get played with. That's your role here. You take what the fuck I decide to give you." He slaps my ass again, that wicked tongue still not anywhere close to where I need it.
"Please," I sob, my voice cracking as I yield. I can't take it anymore. I need to come so badly; I'll give him whatever he wants. I'll do whatever he wants. "Please, please, please."
He growls, a triumphant sound I feel all the way in my soul. His tongue spears into my hole. I come instantly, screaming his name. It echoes in the room around us as lights burst behind my eyelids and blood rushes in my ears.
