Page 57 of The Sin Binder's Chains

“You sound so fucking pretty when you beg,” he rasps before sucking me in again, harder this time, his free hand sliding lower, lower, lower-

And fuck, I want him everywhere.

Fingers slipping past the waistband, teasing along the edge of my underwear, his lips curling against my throat when he feels how warm, how wet I already am for him.

“Fuck,” he exhales, his forehead pressing against my collarbone like he’s trying to keep himself in check, his fingers flexing against my skin. But he doesn’t hold back. He doesn’t stop. He presses lower, between my thighs, where I need him most.

I inhale sharply, body arching into his touch, because the first slow slide of his fingers over my clothed heat sends a shock of pleasure so sharp it makes my toes curl.

His breath stutters. His hand tightens on my hip.

And then, he does it again.

A slow, torturous stroke, his fingers dragging over the damp fabric, barely any pressure but still too much. Still enough to make me whimper, to make my legs shift apart, inviting, needing.

Elias lifts his head, watching me, drinking me in. His silver eyes are burning, molten with something dark, desperate, starved.

I watch his throat bob as he swallows hard. Then, his voice wrecked, he mutters, "These are in my way."

I don’t hesitate. I lift my hips, giving him permission.

His fingers twitch, his jaw tightening as he hooks them under the fabric, dragging my shorts down, slow, torturous, like he wants to savor every inch of skin he reveals.

And when they’re finally gone, when I’m bare beneath him, he doesn’t move. He just stares.

His hands slide up my thighs, spreading me open, keeping me there, just for him. His gaze drags over me, his lips parting, a breath leaving him like he’s in pain from how much he wants this. Wants me.

I expect him to say something, something cocky, something teasing, but he doesn’t. He just lowers his head, exhaling hot against my skin before he licks me.

A broken sound rips from my throat, my thighs trembling, because fuck, he doesn’t start slow. He doesn’t tease.

He just devours.

His tongue drags through my slick heat, firm, deep, his lips sealing over me, sucking just right, just perfect, just filthy.

My body bows, shuddering, but he’s already holding me down, spreading me wider, pressing me deeper into his mouth like he doesn’t want to miss a single drop.

Time shifts.

The fire flickers more slowly. The world holds its breath. And my pleasure stretches.

I can feel it building, feel the tight coil in my stomach, but I can’t reach for it. He won’t let me.

Elias traps me there, in the unbearable, exquisite edge of release, suspended in heat and friction and the relentless, devastating pace of his tongue.

It’s too much. It’s perfect.

And then, just when I can’t take another second.

He lets go.

Time snaps back, and I shatter.

The orgasm hits like a violent wave, crashing over me, ripping through me, my body locking, shaking, breaking apart.

Elias groans against me, licking me through it, dragging it out, keeping me there, not stopping, not slowing, making me feel every single aftershock, every tremor, every pulse.

When he finally pulls away, his breath is ragged, uneven, his lips wet, slick with me.

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