Instead, all I finally whispered was, “I got your message.”
“I’m so sorry, Lou,” he said, raising his head as if he’d just remembered where we were.
“Shh. You have nothing to apologize for.”
“No, you don’t understand,mäi léift.”
“Mäi léift,”I whispered. “What does it mean? You wouldn’t tell me before. What does it?—”
His hand clamped down on my mouth again before I could get the rest out. He paused as he ran his good hand through his hair, then glanced at the door, then moved away from the bed, still keeping one hand pressed over my mouth, and my heart seized. In the moonlight, his tailored silk-lined jacket slid off his shoulders and onto the floor. One hand moved to the front of his shirt—expensive and perfectly fitted to his body but printed in some bizarre pattern; where hadthatcome from?—undoing the buttons. Then he stopped. Again. In the darkness and the silence, I only heard him breathing, and when I dared to open my eyes again, saw only the outline of his broad, bare shoulders moving up and down minutely. He leaned in closer, and his breath, both hot and somehow icy, made my skin quiver like a struck musical note.
“Remember how you told me you were in that school musical, and you used improv to warm up before rehearsal?” he whispered.
“Yeah, and I hated it,” I tried to tell him, though his hand was still muffling my words.
And I was starting to get scared.
“Remember what they told you?To keep the scene moving, you never sayno. You always sayyes, and.”
“But why?—”
“Because you’re to wrap those perfect, pink princess lips around my cock. The ones I knew the second I saw them that they’d never sucked off anyone, ever.”
He closed his eyes briefly and settled himself on his knees on either side of my torso, straddling my waist. I was lying flat, back pressed into the mattress, arms stretched up and cuffed to the headboard, the chain taut enough that I couldn’t shift much.Suddenly, his body jerked upward, his breaths coming out in sharp gasps, biting down on his lip, gritting his teeth. With one hand, he crudely fisted a hunk of my curls and jerked my head forward, forcing my chin up off the pillows, and pushed his cock past my lips and farther in. I couldn’t see much in the dim moonlight, but I could feel every bit of the swelled, solid mass of him filling every cavern of my mouth, forcing me to loosen my jaw as I bit back a scream.
He fucked it in and out as slowly and precisely and perfectly as he’d moved it once before, in a room full of breathing plants. But there was nothing alive in this room, this mausoleum of white marble, except for us. And the classical Greek pillars on either side of me may as well have crumbled, the menacing carved griffins cowered and retreated, at the sight of that magnificent sculpted body, towering powerfully over me, his head bent, forelock of golden hair tumbling loosely over half his face. His chest, the scars etched into his skin like blood scrawled onto parchment and dried, spilling out a history of anguish and bravery alike—was bare, except for the glint of a thin gold necklace with a blue pendant,where on earth—and the watch—and the thick gold rings on his two middle fingers that curled tightly around mine. Accouterments for an aristocrat; a prince.
And I was his slave.
Twisting forward, I widened my eyes in the dim moonlight just enough to see the veins in his beautiful, scar-covered, muscled arms swell tautly as he launched into a new, violent pace. If only I could meet his eyes in the darkness. If only I could look.
There must be a reason. He never does anything without a reason.
But he wasn’t telling, and he wasn’t stopping. His hands weren’t his hands. The dark, unknowable pits of his eyes were strange. And despite myself, despite the shame of being tetheredthere like an animal, I could already feel the sopping sheets beneath me, a sick heat curling low in my stomach as my body responded to what I feared, to what I wanted, to what I deserved.
Because I was terrified. Terrified that he wouldn’t stop. And terrified that hewould.
I stiffened and gurgled, squeezing my hands where they were trapped and pushing helplessly against the metal as he took no quarter, merciless in his expertise: his speed, his roughness, his control.
And I couldn’t catch my breath.
Stop.
Keep going.
He shifted slightly, one arm slipping down, fingers brushing against my wrist, probing, lingering on the cuffs as my skin raked against them.
I squirmed and shook, rattling against the cuffs and as he groaned, coming undone around my slick, helpless tongue, foam and saliva and hot tears flowing over my chin and cheeks, my pussy practically gushed over the sheets and down my legs, ready to come from the wanting alone.
“No,” he growled, plunging even deeper into me with a hiss as I took him down to the root and held him there. Suddenly, he pulled up sharply as if to tear himself away. As if hewantedto tear himself away, but didn’t.
Why?
It didn’t matter. I was screaming now.
Stop. I can’t breathe.
But he didn’t stop.
