Page 51 of Ruthless Sinner
“Good,” Marco whispered. He ran the backs of his knuckles along the curve of my cheek, then moved down to the foot of the bed. “Spread your legs.”
I did as I was told and immediately, Marco’s expert hands began to wind the red silk ties around my ankles. He’d done this before, as I’d suspected he had. Marco was never one to skimp out on a possible sex toy, never one to leave an option unexplored.
After a moment, I realized that he was binding my ankles the way that you would bind up a wrap for a sprain. He was tying me up as I’d requested but he was doing it in a way that would support my ankles and keep them from getting hurt. Part of me was fascinated by the skill used—and part of me melted, knowing that he was looking out for me like this. Still determined to make sure I was taken care of.
Once my ankles were secure, Marco wrapped the other end of the silk ties around something underneath the bed. Possibly one of the drawers? Or was there some kind of hook or knob specifically for this purpose? I wouldn’t have put it past him.
Marco inspected his work. “Test them for me,” he ordered.
His voice was both soft and sharp, orders that I knew I would obey, but orders I also knew I would trust.
I tested them as he requested and nodded my approval. The ties held me tightly without tugging harshly at my ankles the way the ties that Misha used had done. A rush of gratitude swept through me for the care Marco was taking. These weren’t ties meant to subdue me harshly or hold me in place like a prisoner. They were meant to hold me steady and secure, to keep me from hurting myself—to hold me in place for pleasure.
I knew that I had been right in thinking I could trust Marco with this. That finally that itch deep inside of me would be scratched.
Marco’s gaze swept over me, checking in on his handiwork, and then he nodded. “You’ve been really pent up these last few days.”
“So have you,” I pointed out, eyeing his already hard cock.
Marco smirked at me, and I saw him settle into that predatory, hunting look he got when we were in bed together. The wolf was out to play.
He moved up my body, and even though he was technically crawling, it didn’t feel like it. It felt like on all fours was how he was meant to move, his natural element, not crawling butstalking.
My breath hitched. My skin felt alive, sparking, every inch of me ten times more sensitive just from the amount of anticipation I felt.
Marco lowered himself down and I thought he was going to kiss me—but then he ducked his head at the last moment and kissed me softly, slowly, on the neck.
“Y’know, a less generous man would take advantage of this situation,” he pointed out. “After you lied to me all this time… pretended to be someone you’re not…”
“Oh?” My voice came out soft and breathy.
“Maybe I should really take my time with you.” I could hear the tease in Marco’s voice as he slowly kissed his way across my shoulder. “Make youearnyour orgasm.”
I shivered. That was what I wanted, desperately. I wanted to be strung out and begging, my mind completely blissed out. But I’d never before trusted whoever was in charge to do it right. How could I know, once I was tied up, that my partner would stop if I asked them to? How could I know they wouldn’t do something I didn’t like, or would hurt me, or refuse to untie me?
Sure, I was trained somewhat in how to escape from these kinds of things but depending on the type of restraint used or what knots they employed… it was really just something I hadn’t wanted to risk.
But I knew instinctively that Marco would never do any of that to me. I knew I could trust him—that if I said stop or no, he would immediately end things. That if there was something I didn’t like, he wouldn’t do it. And that if I asked him sincerely to untie me, he would.
Marco slowly, inexorably kissed his way down my body and I sighed into it, my muscles relaxing. He hadn’t stretched my limbs so far that I felt like I was doing any kind of workout. I just sank down into the mattress and pillows, and let myself focus on nothing but the touch of his mouth.
It was glorious.
I had no idea where he would go next, his movements over my skin apparently random. Sometimes he gave me the softest brush of lips, more the promise of a kiss than anything else. Other times he bit into my skin and sucked, making me cry out—like he was trying to give me new, good bruises to help me forget the old, bad ones. Sometimes it was a soft, fond press, other times it was slow and sucking.
I reveled in the attention. I’d never felt like this before—worshipped and devoured at the same time.
Marco moved all the way down to between my thighs, right where I was wet and aching for him. He took his time on my legs, and I hadn’t even realized just how goddamn wet I was until I could feel him only inches away. I trembled, wishing I could slide my fingers into his hair and buck my hips to encourage him closer—but I was tied up. Held fast. I couldn’t move at all.
The feeling of being restrained, truly held back, hit me like a freight train and I let out a small whimper from the back of my throat. It was a dizzying combination of trust, loss of control, and being at someone else’s mercy, atMarco’smercy, that had my head spinning like I stood at the edge of the balcony, hundreds of feet above the ground.
Marco avoided my aching pussy and moved up to my stomach. I huffed at him but didn’t complain. It was my instinct to be quiet during sex, and I wasn’t going to change that unless he really earned it.
I had a feeling he was going to really earn it.
Marco moved up with purpose this time, no feeling around or detours. When his mouth latched around my nipple I bit my lip hard. God, yes, that felt amazing. I struggled to breathe and to keep from yanking too hard on the handcuffs as I instinctively tried to squirm against the touch, to arch up into his mouth.
Marco growled in satisfaction, licking and sucking, nipping occasionally, not content until I was shaking and my breast and nipples swollen from his attention.
