Page 16 of The Damsel
“Please,” Robert whispered, bucking his hips again.
The motion caused his cock to brush against her knuckles, his skin silken and soft, but scorching in its heat. The word he’d just uttered fell on her like the stroking of his tongue, bringing her arousal back to life with surprising force.
“Say it again,” she urged, staring at his mouth so she could see the word form there. “Beg me for what you want.”
He squirmed, his arms pulling at the ropes, the flesh around them turning pink. It must hurt, but she didn’t care. Hell, he didn’t seem to either, his arousal becoming worse by the second. He was hard and straining upward, the tip of his prick an angry red, beads of mettle gathering at the slit.
He liked this—his own helplessness, her control, perhaps even the pain of the ropes biting into his wrists, made so by his own thrashing.
“Please,” he said again, the word coming out heavy and breathless. “Please, touch me.”
She obliged him, no longer able to hold back. This would be her first time touching a real cock with a willing hand, and she realized with some degree of shock that she actually wanted to touch Robert’s.
He hissed when her fingers closed around him. The organ in her grasp was rock hard, a vein along its side pulsing as if the thing had its own heartbeat. As she studied it with an untamed curiosity, he began to move, hips shifting to create friction between his cock and her hand. He seemed mindless with need, practically fucking her fist as he strained against the ropes.
It would seem he’d grown impatient. She couldn’t have that.
Giving his cock a tight squeeze, she simultaneously brought the heel of her free hand onto the crease where his thigh met his pelvis. Pressing down, she found the mass of nerves and tendons Millicent had told her about—ones that, when pressed, would cause a flare of pain that could subdue even the strongest man.
It had the intended effect, Robert letting out a bellow and shuddering beneath her before going still. He stared down at her with wide, wild eyes, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe through what she felt certain must be a good degree of pain. Yet, his cock was as hard as ever, his bollocks drawn up tight, another telltale bead of moisture making his head gleam in the light of the fire.
“Bloody hell,” he whispered with breathless awe. “I don’t … I don’t understand how …”
“You like the pain,” she told him, smoothing her thumb over the pressure point she’d just tortured, noting the way it made him shiver. “Adversely … I like hurting you ... more than I ought to.”
He wrinkled his brow, seeming to wrestle with himself, with her words. She could practically hear the wheels turning in his mind as he tried to rationalize what was happening between them.
Cassandra didn’t have time for that. She’d come to terms with who she was, the things she wanted. Robert could do the same on his own time … right now he was hers.
She bent her head and flicked her tongue over the tip of his prick, which seemed to tear him away from his distracting thoughts. He moaned, and she went back for more, lapping at him and dipping her tongue into his slit. The salty taste of his seed invaded her palate—not altogether unpleasant.
“Christ,” he groaned, arching his back as she enveloped him into her mouth.
She took him in until he hit the back of her throat, then withdrew before trying again, taking up a slow and steady rhythm. He seemed to have a hard time keeping still, and Cassandra wondered if she ought to have tied his ankles as well, spreading his legs and making it harder for him to thrust at his own pace. But then, she found she didn’t mind it so much now that she’d found a rhythm … now that she realized he couldn’t be still because of her.
Laying her thumb over the bruise that had begun to form over his pressure point, she pushed against it while drawing her lips up his shaft in a long, slow drag.
Robert bit back another loud cry, gritting his teeth so it came out more like a growl. She did it again, noticing the way it made the muscles in his belly clench and his arms jerk against his bonds. A dizzying sensation swept over her, as if she’d had too much to drink. Only she was drunk off the moment, off the thrill of having a man at her mercy. And not just any man. He was the sort her mother or sisters might have told her she’d never have; the sort she’d once been terrified of.
With the last of her reservations discarded, there was nothing left for it. She couldn’t wait any longer, and it seemed as if Robert hung on by a thread.
It was time to finish this, to move past the final barrier holding her back, keeping her in that place of fear and revulsion. Robert muttered an oath when she released him from her mouth, but watched her with eager expectation as she climbed up over his body, positioning herself to take him inside.
He licked his lips, locking his gaze on the sight of her angling him so that his broad head rested right against her clit. She rubbed herself against him, using him to stimulate the little nub and coating him in her juices. A shudder wracked her as she increased her pace, rolling her hips and gripping his cock tighter to keep him at the right angle.
She could spend just like his, from the friction of his tip offering the perfect counterpoint to each surge of her hips. Robert seemed to be right there with her, his breaths coming out in harsh pants, hips flexing as he tried to push harder against her.
“Take me inside you, please … please.”
Her eyes slid shut and she trembled, that damned word wreaking havoc on her senses once again. She could listen to him beg until his voice had gone hoarse.
“Try again, Robert,” she urged, placing him just inside, but refusing to slide onto him until she got what she wanted. “Beg me to do what I said I would when we first spoke downstairs. You remember, don’t you?”
His eyes glittered with a feral light, all his good sense and notions of what might be right, wrong, or seemly washed away. He was a trembling mass of want and need, just like her, and would, apparently, do anything to be put out of his misery.
“Fuck me,” he rasped, rocking against her, trying to nudge his way deeper into her. “Fuck me, please.”
She sank down onto him in one swift motion, her eyes rolling up into her head as both his cock and his words filled her, making a liquid heat erupt from somewhere deep within. Bracing her hands against his chest, she gave herself over without a second thought, too far gone now to think about the past, her fears, her anger, any of it. She rode him at a maddening pace, her fingers pressing against his chest, thighs slapping against his. Her cunt stretched around him with a delicious and pleasant pull, the thick width of him pushing up against her most sensitive places.
