Pain And Pleasure 18+✓

Fourteen

"If you want nothing more, you're free to go, Arabella. I won't stop you." His smooth whisper holds my breath.

Nothing has ever made me crave sex as I do right now. Letting this man play with my body has probably unleashed my dormant libido that's been traumatically repressed from several events of the nearest past.

And this was certainly not the plan.

The plan was to get here, let him do what he wants—not what I want—and leave immediately with some of the problems solved. But how come this little foreplay from him seems to grey my intentions now?

Do I want to go? No, I want more. I want him more than I've ever wanted a man before. My sex is throbbing, my breath as fickle as the stormy sea, and he is probably having a blast of content studying me right now.

"I'm waiting, Arabella." His voice is coupled with a tiny movement of his body as if he's doing something.

Fuck me! Is he undressing?

I yank my hands, but the restraints shut my endeavor. I'm restless, my body and mind battling for dominance. I rub my thighs against each other, anchoring myself, afraid to give him free access.

Free access? Who am I kidding? The beast has me under his leash and it's a no-escape predicament. I do want to run over the hills, but a part of me needs to live with the danger he exudes. He's alluring, and I can no longer deny it.

"I believe your silence means something." His voice is laced with menace and a sweet panic floods in me.

Shifting once again, he forcefully parts my legs. Woah! It happens so quickly that I get no time to register anything until his lips take mine deeply. He's unrelenting, kissing me with unrestrained wildness, and my mouth cooperates effectively.

What kind of spell does he use?

I'm nonplussed, letting the heat consume me as he grips my neck while pushing himself further between my legs. He's hard, fully erect when I feel his cock poking my vagina wall through the fabric of his pants. And damn, he's shirtless.

Solid muscles crash my chest, and for the first time, I discern how sturdy he actually feels. He must work out a lot. I gather this much from the rough touch of his naked chest against my skin, body to body. Suddenly the wish to see him intensifies.

"I said I'll wait until you're ready for me," he says, kissing my jaw firmly. I toss my head back, and his lips fall onto my neck. "I'll do it, Arabella. We'll do it at your own pace."

He doesn't spare my breasts, a reminder that he owns all of me right now, and slowly he reaches for my stomach, trailing wet kisses, seductively, as though he's studying my responses.

My ass writhes, muscles clenched tightly, as I move rigorously, and the handcuffs add much to my excitement. I feel deeply aroused, veneered, my body worshipped by his sensual assault.

And deftly he grabs my thighs and positions himself a bit lower. My breath turns harsher and more ragged, anticipation higher when he pulls me levelly, closer to his current station. When he frees his grip around me, I hear him exhaling softly.

Silence follows. But smooth music from my mobile prevails, turning the atmosphere deceivingly romantic.

Now what? My heart is beating faster, and my stomach rises and falls rhythmically. Fully naked, I ought to feel humiliated.

Instinctively, I pull my thighs together.

"Don't, Arabella!" His soft hiss becomes a command as he holds my waist and sinks in between my legs—just a subtle mark of his territory—nothing intrusive yet.