Page 48 of Cruel Pawn
“Hands on the headboard, my opera,” he ordered, and no force could have stopped me obeying that order. The steely confidence infusing his voice made me so weak.
My heart skipped as I put my hands on the cold wood of the headboard, a rush of tingles moving down my chest under my borrowed shirt as helockedone of the padlocks instead of releasing me. My stomach squirmed, nerves tangling with lust until I could only think of getting him inside me.
I tested my range of freedom, unable to explain the butterflies that filled my belly when I found my hands locked to the headboard. He left the slack on my ankle, but only so he could widen my thighs and stare at where I wept for him.
“Say it again,” he ordered, hands skimming up my sensitive inner thighs, a low, satisfied noise rumbling from him when my hips jolted, riding the air. “Call me yours again.”
“My captor,” I breathed, all my focus on where he touched me.
His hands were like molten ore as they glided under the hem of my shirt, letting it caress my skin until I was sensitive anywhere. The kisses he placed on my hip, my stomach, and my ribs left burning imprints. Every touch intensified my need until I couldn’t take it as he pushed the shirt higher, the wicked gleam in his eyes telling me he saw every reaction I tried to hide.
“Again,” he commanded, dark eyes flicking up to my face, locking with mine as his mouth lowered, teeth skimming the underside of my breast.
“Arden,” I groaned, right on the edge of pleading.
“Not what I want to hear, my pretty opera.” Teeth caught my nipple and bit hard. My whole body arched off the bed, the silken brush of skin to skin like a gift after hours of thinking he’d abandoned me. “Again.”
“My captor,” I whimpered when he bit my other nipple, stimulation like a lightning bolt from my breast to my clit.
“Again.”
“My—” The name died in a cry when he knocked my thighs wider with his hips and sank his cock deep without warning. I was so wet that the glide was divine, and when Arden rolled his hips, using that deadly knowledge of my body to find my G-spot within fucking seconds, my inner muscles clamped down hard.
“Remember, my pretty little opera,” he said, pressing each fingertip into my waist, gripping so tightly that the butterflies in my belly took off again, flying like maniacs. “You asked for this.”
Oh, fuck. I was glad I had my hands on the headboard because I desperately needed something to cling to when his hands tightened on my waist and heunleashedhimself. It became very apparent that he’d been holding back every time we fucked, caging the dark, wild thing that stared out at me through his eyes.
Now uncaged, he took me so hard my inner thighs would wear bruises in every spot his hips crashed into them. His cockcarved a path of ruthless pleasure through my pussy, so fast, so unrelenting, that I could barely catch my breath. I’d asked him not to be gentle and, oh, there was no danger of that. My head spun. My heart, against all odds, melted into a pliant puddle. It was everything I’d ever wanted. So rough that I couldjustabout handle it. Possessive, snarling, and so hot that it killed me.
His hand framed my throat, his palm blazing hot against my skin. “Say it again.”
I gave up all pretence, gave up the stubborn part of me that refused to admit I wanted him. “You’re mine,” I gasped.
My eyes crossed when he rewarded me by grinding the head of his cock into that killer spot right as everything grew tight and achy inside me.
“Yes,” he purred, his voice so rough, so sexy, so goddamned possessive as he demanded, “And who do you belong to?”
My head thrashed on the bed, a hot tingle in my belly when his hand tightened around my throat to hold me still, demanding an answer with a brutal squeeze. The world took on a hazy, sparkling quality as he controlled the flow of blood to my head, and I felt himeverywhere.His hand around my neck, where a single violent whim could end my life. His thighs crashing into mine, fusing us together. His other hand brazen and claiming as it swept a broad, claiming stroke up my stomach to squeeze a breast, his thumb taunting my nipple.
“You,” I whimpered, the sensations building, impossible to contain in a single body. “Arden, please.”
I thought he was giving me everything, but my plea unlocked a level of animalistic insanity in him that had a keening cry shivering off my tongue. Oh, god. So fast. So deep. Intense, jackhammering thrusts that pushed me up the bed, that had me yanking at the chains, frantic to touch him, to mark his body with my own bruises, to wrap my arms around him and dig my fingernails into his skin so we became one.
“That’s right,” he said in a voice cut from shadows and midnight and blood so dark it was black. “You aremine,Priya. This body that trembles for me and only me ismine.These tits that are swollen, aching for touch aremine.”I cried out when he twisted my nipple, my back arching off my bed, inner muscles gripping him so tight that the next drag out was slower, the thrust back in punishing. “This throat is mine. This hair is mine.” His other hand left my nipple to grab a fistful of hair, making my mouth fall open at the rush of tingling danger that shot from my scalp all the way down my spine. “This cunt that’s so fucking close to the edge ismine.But most importantly, this stubborn, pretty little mind that fights me so viciously but can’t help but submit isall fucking mine.”
“Arden,” I gasped, too far gone to be embarrassed by the whine that followed.
Twin sensations assaulted me when he yanked on my hair at the same time his hand tightened around my throat. “All your orgasms are mine. Every last fucking one, whether it’s my cock you’re strangling as you come, or my fingers you soak, or my tongue you drown in cum, or your own fingers as you bring yourself to release. They all belong tomeso give me what’s mine, pretty girl. Come for me.”
A moan ripped out of me with startling force, and the first wave of pleasure struck me dumb. It was too much, too good. My body convulsed, my neck arching into his grip, hands straining the chains, everything else in the world disappearing for one blissful minute.
When my mind floated back down to my body, as lightweight and carefree as a feather, Arden had wrapped both hands around my neck as he drove into me like a man possessed, my name spilling from his lips over and over like a cult leader praising their god.
His neck tensed, all the tendons standing up as every muscle in his face tightened, pleasure filling the air with his moans, every deep, groaning noisewreckingme. My stare fixed on the hearts inked around where I sliced his throat, and as my head floated, heat clawing up my chest as another release gathered in my lower belly, I could have sworn there was a bite mark tattooed on his shoulder where I sank my teeth in before he left.
His hands left my throat right as black spots began to crowd my vision, and the rattle of chains came from above me, but I didn’t care enough to see what he was doing. The world spun, disorienting, the dizziness and my lack of care, lack of stress so freeing. I feltgood.So good it would be easy to become addicted to this feeling.
Cool air brushed over my back, bringing me out of my mind long enough to notice Arden had freed my hands from the headboard, loosening the chains enough for him to flip our positions. Now, he stretched out beneath me like a work of art, covered in deceptively lithe muscle and bright tattoos. His eyes were a beacon of devotion and obsession. I wondered if mine looked the same.
