Page 8 of To Curse A Knight

Softer voice this time. Coaxing again. Tender.

“Needed a face to fuck.” I grunted, bucking upwards into freezing airspace instead of his orgasmic mouth hole.

A burning pain met my answer as the neanderthal bit a chunk out of the inside of my thigh. I gaped at the bloody ring of teeth marks two inches from my taint and glared daggers into his eyes.

That fucker was going to scar.

“Fucking hell, Conan!” I shouted as my quad cramped hard from the pain. I was definitely reconsidering my pleasure Dom assessment. “Seriously?”

“I can break every finger and toe in your body.” His face was now a completely neutral mask, like a trained serial killer. “Be grateful.”

Aye, when he put it that way—

“I already told you why I was here, you caveman,” I spat. I was desperate for a release, but his pit bull style—if not a little unorthodox—questioning was exhausting. He wasn’t going to get the answers he wanted. I wasn’t a small-time mamby-pamby pussy—I was a professional. Hardening my stare, I stuck out my chin in defiance.

A moment of silence passed between us—the sorry stubborn sap in the vintage chair and the lumberjack torturer with a blood fetish—we faced off like dueling partners of a bad porn script.

He unclipped the nipple clamps and threw them to the floor. He lifted the chair, then carried me toward the room's rear wooden stairs.

Well, this was a new one.

My head smashed against the low beam up the stairwell, but I stifled my cry of pain. I was way too curious to see where I’d end up. That, and I knew I’d end up leaving here alive, if Kellan wanted to leave here alive, too. I didn’t mind being under Blondie’s protection.

He carried me face-forward down a dark, carpeted hallway, then deposited me in a simple white bedroom with a king bed, nightstand, and dresser.

Wordlessly, he uncuffed my legs from the chair, then lifted me effortlessly onto the bed, spread me out and attached my bound hands to a metal ring on the headboard.

Kinky, kinky, kinky.

My head was pounding from the solid whack to the beam, but my heart pounded even harder. Was he going to break my fingers now? My dick?

Kellan stepped back from the bed and assessed his handiwork, his cock swollen underneath those sexy PJs. Slowly, he shucked them down his legs and the massive length of him sprang free, like an adult Jack-in-the-box.

Holy shyte. Is this—am I—what?

He pulled my legs to the end of the bed. My arms strained against the cuffs as he lifted my upper body into the air. Spreading my legs wide, he brought his dick to my ass, and rubbed the head all over the sensitive ring of muscles. The wetness of his pre-cum slid over me.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a shiny blue foil packet of lube. It wasn’t going to be enough.

Ripping the packet open with his teeth, he slowly spread the lube over the crown of his head and down the length of his shaft. My dick twitched in response, in a fucking tailspin over this sudden turn of events.

Torture by fucking. Other than some disturbing porn I’d watched as a teen, this was definitely a new one for the books.

My Viking Dom released his hold on his coated cock and reached for me. Gripping my thighs so tight I’d have thumb prints all over them in the morning, he forced his head into my tight hole. Painfully stretched, I saw stars behind my eyelids. He looked down at the space where our bodies met and aimed a huge gob of spit onto his dick.

He thrust into me, hard. I cried out, in pain, in pleasure, in fucking delicious lust. He withdrew and thrust back into me again, holding me completely fucking hostage by my hands and thighs and dick.

I took it. Welcomed his dick inside me and squeezed him as fucking tight as I could. I opened my body to take more of him as he loomed over me, sweat matting the long hair against his face.

His face betrayed nothing, but those sexy stormy eyes said everything. How much he wanted me, how much he hated me, how much he needed to fucking rail me into these sheets to punish me.

I bucked against him, my dick ready to explode all over his stomach. My back arched painfully upward…

Edging fucker.

He pulled out and flipped me over on my stomach; the handcuffs chafed hard into my skin. He clenched my hips and notched himself into my hole again, but he didn’t move anymore, despite me pressing my ass into him, begging for more.

“Why are you here?”

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