The single finger is enough to have me panting and moaning like I have never been touched before, and I never want it to stop. I scream his name and dig my nails into the ropes like it might keep me from crashing into a blubbering mess of moans and curses.
“Again.”
“What?” I say on an inhale.
“Say my name again.”
He isn’t asking me. He’s telling me. He’s making me with the curve of his fingers. The light comes closer with each push of his fingers on my G-spot. I cry out his name over and over when I reach my peak, legs spasming and back arched. He keeps pumping into me, dragging out my orgasm for longer than I thought was humanly possible. Even though I’m completely spent, and my entire body is overstimulated from his greedy touches, my attention fixates on each of his miniscule movements as he rises to his feet. The light casts dark shadows across his abdomen, highlighting every inch of hard muscle and deadly grace. I’m drunk at the sight of him.
He climbs up my body with slow, predatory movements, trailing a path of mind-numbing bliss with the kisses he leaves behind. My body arches against his lips and he doesn’t hesitate to pounce onto my waiting flesh to leave his mark on me. And just like he did when he was on his knees before me, he latches onto my skin ruthlessly before planting a tender kiss in its place. Then finally, his lips meet mine and our tongues move against each other as if we were long-lost lovers reuniting under a starless night.
Suddenly, he pulls away and I stare at his retreating frame. The glow from the window catches the rough skin on his chest where the scar sits. He looks every bit the danger that he is. Perfect muscle formed in the darkest pits of hell, with eyes that could rival a siren’s luring stare. I can still picture how hypnotically he moved in the arena and how the sweat dripped from his body.
“It’s my turn now.”
My trance fractures. “What do you mean?”
Mickey’s fingers move to undo the ropes around my ankles. “I can do whatever I want to you, Princess. If I want to fuck your face, I will.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. I don’t know how to do what he’s asking.
Mickey climbs on top of me in all his naked glory, and my gaze hooks on his hard length that’s grazing against the hard pane of his stomach. “I’ve wanted your pretty pink lips around my cock for years.” He brings my face to his. “You came on my tongue, so it’s my turn to coat yours.”
I try to squeeze my legs together. I don’t know how my body thinks it could handle another orgasm, and I’m pretty sure I would die if I tried to find out. The muscles in my arms sigh when I’m freed from the headboard, but my wrists are still being held hostage by the silk ropes.
“I don’t…” I start, unsure how to say the words, as he leads me off the bed, using the ropes like a leash.
Roman lowers me onto my knees, holding onto the length of the rope as if I might try to run. “You don’t what, baby? Know how to suck cock? If you did, we would have a big fucking problem because someone else would need to die.”
My breath hitches. “What if I’m not good at it?” Stupid, stupid, stupid. I’m meant to be over my self-doubt.
“Open your mouth,” he orders.
My eyes widen at the monster in front of my face, standing big and proud, pointing right at me. There’s no way that’s going to fit in my mouth. I know from experience he barely fits between my legs.
Still, I comply hesitantly. He fists himself a couple of times before a shiver runs through him the instant his pre-come slick head brushes against my parted lips. He curses. “Wider.”
I swallow, then open my mouth as wide as I can, gaze glued on his to take my mind off the sheer size of him. He slides into me before I can take another breath, completely filling my mouth. There isn’t enough room to move my tongue or breathe.
My throat contracts with a gag as he hits the back, and it takes every bit of my focus not to move my jaw as I push against his thighs. His sharp hiss reaches my ear just as his hand clamps into my hair to keep me in place. Heat spreads from my chest as my burning lungs beg for a whisper of air.
“Fuck,” he groans and withdraws suddenly so I can breathe. “There’s nothing you could do that wouldn’t feel good.”
The power in his stance as he towers over me could end a lesser woman. Shadows flicker across his abs while the image of pure bliss takes over his face. Heavy lids and parted lips. The rapid rise and fall of his taut chest.
I did that.
I made Roman look like he was about to crumble to his knees.
I shouldn’t be as wet as I am by seeing him like this, but I want to commit it to memory.
He rams his hips forward with his fist still in my hair, not letting me escape. My hands move each time to try to push him away when he breaches the back of my throat.
“That’s my girl,” he moans.
There’s no stopping the tears streaming down my face, or the soft moans that fall from my mouth as I lick him tentatively when he pulls away long enough for me to do anything.
Letting go of my hair, he says, “Hold it.”
He grunts when my bound hands wrap around his girth. Carefully, I move my hands up and down his length like I saw him do moments ago. I flick my tongue out to lick his head before wrapping my lips around it, and he snarls like he’s holding back a beast. Somehow, Mickey keeps his hands to himself as I explore him; licking the contours beneath his head, and using my tongue to follow the veins on his cock. The sharp breaths he takes only fuel my exploration. When I scrape my teeth along the underside, he cracks.
His fists descend into my hair, and he moves his hips like a maniac. I can barely keep up. There’s spit everywhere, and my lungs are close to giving out. I can’t even see him through the tears blurring my eyes.
“Look at you taking me like a good girl.” He forcefully stops my attempts at a moan with another savage thrust down the back of my throat. “Are you my good girl?” The way he delicately cups my cheek is at odds with the vicious way he moves. “I asked you a question.”
“Yes,” I choke, even though I can’t make out the word.
“Say, yes, Mickey, I’m your good girl.” He doesn’t let up. His grip on my hair keeps me from pulling away to say the words he wants to hear. All of my attempts come out as a jumbled mess of mumbling and gagging that makes him grunt up at the ceiling. “You feel so fucking good.”
He keeps going until he hisses out a curse. The muscles beneath my hands stiffen before he pulls out of my mouth. The cords in his neck strain as the room fills with the sound of his guttural groan. White hot ropes of come hit my cheek and blanket my tongue.
He came.
He came because of me.
He’s marked me because of what I’ve done to him.
Roman pants as he lets go of his cock and grips my face between his thumb and forefinger. “Show me. Stick your tongue out.”
I do as he says, feeling the creamy texture roll around my tongue and drip down the sides of my lips.
He hums in approval. “You look so beautiful with me all over you, Princess.” He caresses my cheek.
My skin reddens at his approval.
“Swallow. You’re not allowed to miss a single drop.”
It’s so salty, but I’m committed to pleasing him. Despite its strong taste, I would do it again in a heartbeat. It’s intimate in a way I didn’t expect. Mickey seeing a part of him on me is like laying claim to me without any words or more action on his part. For me, it’s like owning a part of him.
With my bound hands, I make a show of using my fingers to wipe the come from my face and into my mouth, licking each drop clean.