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“Really?” I ask, my accelerated breathing pushing out my chest, and I don’t miss the way Quinn’s eyes flicker with interest as he watches my breasts rise with each intake of breath.
“I think you would much rather punish me.” My gaze drops to his jeans. “I mean, you were the one who said you liked me being submissive. And what’s more submissive than me cuffed to your bed, a hair’s breadth away from coming in my pants at how fucking hot you are when you go all alpha male?” I wriggle my hips because my hands may be cuffed, but my legs are not.
“What are you doing?” Quinn asks with a hiss when my jeans shimmy lower, exposing my lace underwear.
But I don’t answer him and continue wriggling, hoping I can yank my underwear down a fraction lower to tempt Quinn back onto the bed. Thankfully, it works, and he places a knee onto the edge of the mattress, lowering himself down onto my body.
“Kiss me,” I whisper under hooded eyes, gasping when his nipple ring presses through the light cotton of his T-shirt.
Quinn complies, inching his lips toward mine, and when he’s within reach, I rear up…and I bite his lip ring hard.
“Uncuff me,” I muffle from around his lip, but Quinn only laughs in response, which infuriates me.
Therefore, I bite harder, sucking his piercing deep into my mouth, my sharp teeth biting into his fleshy lip.
This situation is beyond ridiculous, but I will not let go, and Quinn seems unfazed that his lip is fixed firmly between my teeth. So I guess that means we’ll just have to stay this way—forever.
My neck begins to cramp at the angle I’m currently in, and although I can’t see Quinn’s face as he’s suspended above me, I know he is presently smirking his ass off.
“Uncuff me,” I murmur again, tugging harder on his piercing, and this time, I taste blood.
The only response I get is Quinn’s hips shifting off my body and his hand slipping between us.
I attempt to move my hips, but Quinn is too fast as he slips his hand into my underwear while the other hand slides my jeans down my legs. The moment his fingers touch my bare flesh, I know I’ll lose.
There is no foreplay as he inserts a long finger into my hungry body, and instead of crying out, I just bite harder into his lip. I’ll try to hold out for as long as I can, which won’t be long, as his other hand slides under my camisole, palming my breast.
When he thrusts the bra cup down, pinching my nipple between his thumb and forefinger while inserting another finger into me, I scream, and his lip pops free. But I don’t care as I’m about five seconds away from coming.
Sadly, Quinn has other plans as he slows down the tempo.
He is going to make me beg.
His face is hot and wild, and I groan. Lifting my hips, I hope to get faster friction, but it proves unsuccessful, and Quinn only chuckles.
“Beg.”
“Never,” I stubbornly spit, the cuffs rattling against the headboard as I yank on them, hoping they’ll miraculously snap free.
A dimple hugs Quinn’s cheek, and my eyes drop to his bloodied, swollen lip. Instead of feeling remorse, I smile, relishing in the fact that I have marred him. This overwhelming, animalistic claim I have over him has a fever burning in me, and Quinn knows it.
“You will.” He smirks, and I gasp as he adds a third finger, stretching me further than I thought possible.
A low growl rumbles from within Quinn’s chest, and the possessive sound has my back bowing off the bed, my feet pushing into the mattress to arch my hips to deepen the angle.
“Who do you belong to?” Quinn snarls, biting my chin.
“Y-you,” I gasp as his fingers twirl deeper within my body.
“Again,” he orders, his hand slipping free from my breast as he grips my face, turning my cheek to look at him.
“You,” I moan, biting my lip, my eyes never leaving his.
“Who am I?” Quinn asks, his eyes dipping low, mesmerized at how my body responds to him.
“Quinn,” I groan loudly as his fingers increase the speed and pressure, and I’m about to become undone.
“Louder,” he orders, his breath coming out in labored pants as he watches his fingers pump in and out of my body.
