I struggle slightly against the bonds, and he shoves me lightly onto the table, not hard but just enough to let me know he wants me to lie down.
His hands trail down my arms, across my stomach, pausing to tweak at where my nipples press against the fabric of my shirt.
I gasp at the sensation, then moan, already excited beyond belief at this game he’s playing. It feels wicked and naughty to be laid out like this, tied to the damn table in a room meant for the whole crew to eat in, but no one is on the ship but Nydo and me.
There’s no chance of anyone walking in, but it doesn’t matter.
The vague idea of it, the off-limits nature of this, is making me even hotter.
His fingertips tickle over the hem of my pants, and I stiffen as he goes down further, cupping my sex with one hand.
My head turns to the side, and I moan.
“Who does this belong to?” he growls.
“Me,” I say, resistant to the very end.
“Wrong,” he says, his voice liquid heat, those otherworldly eyes flaring red and orange, the tips of his hair throwing off sparks. “This is mine. This belongs to me. Say it.”
He waits, his hand still over my pussy. Heat begins to trickle over my folds, through my wetness, his damn powers making me squirm with renewed need. “Say it,” he says, his voice tight and controlled, whereas I’m moaning like an animal in heat, wild with need. Wild for him.
“Mine,” I tell him through gritted teeth.
His eyes flash. “Then use your safe word, and we’ll stop this,” he commands.
“No.”
“You are as stubborn as you are beautiful.” He sighs, and his hand moves further down my leg, until he pulls out a second length of cord, stopping at my ankles. These he doesn’t tie together. No, he loops the cord gently around my ankle, tugging my boot off, my sock, and tossing them over his shoulder without a care, his focus wholly on me.
One end loops through one of the bolts under the table, and then he spreads my other leg wide, looping the other end around it.
I try moving, testing the bonds.
I’m not going anywhere. The hem of my shirt has ridden up, and I raise an eyebrow at him. “So you’ve got me fully clothed and tied up. Is this it?”
“Oh, no, my little mate. My little flame. This is not it. Not at all. Lie back and let me work. At the end of this, you will admit who that cunt belongs to.”
“I will n—” My voice breaks as heat flares all over me, stinging across my skin.
My clothes are incinerated. I’m completely naked in the next instant, the table hot from Nydo’s strange, fully controlled fire.
“How did you—” I gasp as his powers caress down my body, lifting my chin and watching him.
His gaze is triumphant, victorious, and I realize he’s staring at me, watching me writhe and moan under his phantom touch.
“You’re just going to tease me, then?” I ask, but my voice is a breathy moan. “Are you afraid to touch me? Afraid to lose control?”
“Oh, little flame, when it comes to you, I will never lose control, and when I let go, it will be on purpose, to fill you up with my seed as you scream my name.”
I try to laugh, but it comes out a high, keening noise as he slicks his finger through my folds.
“So fucking wet for me, all tied up and nowhere to go,” Nydo says, his voice a luxurious taunt. “Whatever will I do with you now?”
I’m practically panting. Every nerve is all too aware of him, ready for the next touch.
“Who does this belong to?” he asks again, lowering his face between my legs. I hold my breath, not trusting myself to continue to resist him. His hot tongue darts out, and he licks long across my pussy. His powers penetrate me, warmth gliding in and out of me, even as his tongue works around my clit.
Never quite enough, never quite where I need it.
“You are a tease,” I pant, squeezing my eyes shut, not wanting to beg.
That’s what he wants. He wants me to beg for more, to break down and tell him it’s his. That I am his.
It shouldn’t be so damn sexy, but it is.
“Look at me,” he rasps. “Eyes on me, little flame. Let me see you unravel. Let me watch while I set you on fire.”
He licks again, slow and sure and hot, and I lift my hips, the building ache too much for me to deny it now.
“Exquisite. Everything about you is exquisite,” he says. “Love it when you offer your sex to me, lifting your hips like such a good little mate.”
I groan again, tossing my head, his dirty talk only driving my need higher, harder.
“Do you need more?” he asks.
“Yes,” I manage, just shy of begging.
“Good,” he says approvingly, and I yelp as he slaps my pussy, then shoves a finger inside me with a wet, sloppy sound. Any blood that wasn’t already in my privates rushes there as fast as it can. His mouth moves back over me, languid, sensual, unhurried.
I’m going to fall the fuck apart, and he’s teasing me. This is his game. He wants to keep me on the edge, so fucking close, and then wait for me to beg him.
“Who does this belong to?” he asks again.
“Me,” I groan.
Sweat breaks out on my chest, my forehead. He smiles up at me, and it’s pure pleasure on his face. He’s enjoying this battle of wills.
I am too.
He reaches between us with the hand that’s not inside me, pinching my nipple.
I roll my hips, the increased sensation making it all build to a delicious, unstoppable high.
“I feel how you want me, my flame, my mate. I feel all of you clenching around me, so fucking tight. So fucking perfect. You are a work of art,” he says, and I inhale deeply. His eyes are full of emotion. “Everything about you calls to me.”
He crooks a finger inside of me, and I scream as he finds my g-spot, rubbing it in sure, steady circles.
His mouth pulls at my clit, and I’m so fucking close, tugging against the restraints, chasing the orgasm that’s just out of reach.
Then he’s gone.
His smirks up at me, and goosebumps pebble all across my skin, the loss of the building orgasm leaving me half-wild.
“Do you want to use your safe word yet?” he asks, teasing the insides of my shaking thighs with his delicious, warm fingertips.
"No," I choke out.
“Then tell me this is mine,” he demands softly, his eyes unyielding.
“No,” I repeat.
“Then let us begin again,” he says, his mouth raised in a half smile.
“Take your clothes off,” I say, unable to sit up, unable to touch him… but I want to see him.
His smile turns wide then, full, like he likes that I want to look at him, likes it very much. Slowly, sensuously, he tugs his pants off. He’s not wearing underwear, and my mouth waters at the sight of his massive, hard cock. His shirt follows, and then he’s as bare as I am.
“You’re so sexy,” I tell him, and I clench on nothing, needing more, needing… him.
His cocksure smile falters, then he’s really grinning at me, his eyes lit up with my compliment.
“I am glad you like the way I look, my little flame,” he says.
His fingers track down my inner thighs, and he kneels in front of where I’m spread wide for him, bound to the table.
“Because I like the way you look. I love the way you look, the way you move. The way you fight me for every inch. The way you think, the way you are brave. I love all these things,” he says, and the teasing tone is gone from his voice.
I falter, because it doesn’t just sound like he’s saying shit to say it.
It sounds like… he means it.
And then he blows cold air across my pussy, only to slap it again. I cry out against the wet sound, my arousal returning with a vengeance, that orgasm that built so strong through me threatening to crest.