Page 67 of Stolen

A blond eyebrow went up. “Did I say you could look at me?”

“I can’t help it.” His dick was a thing of beauty. He was so hard, he had to be hurting as much as I was, but he was too stubborn to fuck me quickly. He’d obviously planned this. Gods, he’d probably sat in our Council sessions devising precisely how to make me as miserable as possible.

And I’d missed this so fucking much my eyes started burning. The fact that I’d come so close to losing him made fear wave through me, which went a long way toward deflating my dick. I put my head down so he wouldn’t see my face, but I should have known I couldn’t hide from him, because a second later, warm skin covered mine from shoulder to ankle.

He pushed me flat onto my stomach and stretched his body over mine. His toes stroked my calf as he whispered in my ear. “I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”

I turned my head and kissed him, answering him with my lips and tongue. Breathing him in before murmuring, “I love you, too.”

His lips curved against mine. “You might change your mind about that in a minute.”

“Why? Were you planning on fucking me, or were you just going to stand beside the bed and fondle your dick?”

He bit my jaw playfully. “How’s your hand?”

“Fuck me first and I’ll spend the rest of the night telling you all about it.”

He chuckled as he slid oil-slick fingers into my cleft. He rubbed my hole again and pushed a long finger inside me. “Slut.”

“Yes.”

“My slut,” he clarified, “with such a greedy hole.”

“Yours,” I rasped. “It’s your hole.”

“I know.” He moved his finger inside me, teasing the magical spot where I needed him. “I think I should play with it a little more. Make sure it can take me.” His golden eyes darkened as he fingered me. Within seconds, my dick was hard and leaking again. I buried my head in the crook of my elbow as he delivered on his promise, playing all sorts of games calculated to drive me out of my mind. He was ruthless, taking me right to the edge before hauling me back. He fucked his finger into me, nailing my spot, and then pulled out and scraped his fingernail over my crinkled, bunched entrance, stealing my orgasm and making me yell obscenities into my arm.

He kept it up until I was sobbing and rocking my hips, my legs splayed and my crack dripping with oil and the saliva he’d fingered into me.

He planted a soft kiss behind my ear and thrust two fingers deep, expertly finding my spot and stroking until my spine turned to liquid. “Is this where you want me?” he murmured.

“Yeah,” I croaked. “Right there, baby.” I pumped my ass up and clenched around him, trying to trap him with my hole. “Right fucking there.”

Bastard that he was, he pulled out immediately. A second later, his hands pried my cheeks apart, and his tongue speared me.

I yelled into the sheets, pleasure lighting me up. He didn’t play this time. He made a meal of my ass, thrusting his tongue deep before sucking and biting at my hole. Digging his face in and fucking his tongue into me with warm, slippery strokes. He ate me until I was wet and loose, and then he drew back, his big hands spreading my cheeks so wide the muscle burned.

“Damn,” he breathed, his voice husky. “You want it bad, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I whined, clawing at the sheet with my good hand. I could feel my gape, my hole wide and vulnerable from all the torment he’d put me through. The muscle clenched and grasped at the air as he kept me that way, shivering and squirming under his gaze that cut through all my secrets and evasions.

His hands left my ass only to grasp my hips and haul me onto all fours. Pain shot through my injured hand, but I ignored it as I steadied myself. And the discomfort fled when his oiled fist grasped my dick and pulled it backward between my legs.

“Whose is this?” he demanded, stroking up and down my length.

I hung my head. “Yours,” I choked out.

A sharp crack, and then fire over my ass. “I didn’t hear that. Say it again.”

“Yours,” I barked, feeling like one of his soldiers, which was new for us but I didn’t hate it. Not with his hand like a manacle around my cock.

He worked my dick for a few moments, then cupped my balls and squeezed. “And these?”

“Yours.” I held my breath, bracing for pain.

It came a second later when he tightened his grip. He pulled my sack down, then rolled my swollen nuts in his palm. Sharp pain stabbed through my abdomen, and sweat broke out across my forehead.

“Whose are these?” he demanded, rolling my balls with careful, practiced movements. Exquisite, devastating torture.

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