Kidnapped

Chapter Twelve - Tremble.

I want to scream, to cry, to hit him. I want to curse his name-whatever it even is-and kick him as I run the hell out of here... but just... give me ten minutes.

Because right now, I'm overwhelmed by the most intense pleasure I've ever felt in my life.

His mouth is on me, hot and relentless, his tongue swirling, lapping, consuming me entirely. My cheeks burn with a mix of embarrassment and something deeper, and just as I think I can't feel any more exposed, he pulls away abruptly. "Sit up," he commands, his voice firm.

He reaches over, deftly unlocking my wrist from the handcuffs. I pull my hand to my chest instinctively, feeling a nervous flutter as I rise to my knees, my gaze fixed on him anxiously.

Without a word, he moves in beside me, roughly tugging my shirt up to my neck. His hand presses into the small of my back, pulling me toward him as he leans down, his mouth finding my nipple with a fervent urgency. His other hand grips my other breast, squeezing and groping the soft curve as a low moan escapes him, reverberating through me.

A soft, muffled moan escapes me as warmth spreads through my chest, but then he pulls away, his jaw tightening as he takes in the sight of me, his gaze simmering with intent. "Turn around and hold onto the bedpost."

I hesitate, a muffled sound of protest slipping out against the gag and duct tape covering my mouth. His hand finds my neck, firm but controlled, and he leans in, his voice low and commanding. "Do it. Now."

My heart pounds, each beat echoing through me as I slowly turn on my knees, gripping the bedpost with trembling hands. Anxiety coils in my chest, a nervous flutter that I just can't shake.

His fingers glide down my spine, a slow, deliberate touch that leaves a trail of warmth and shivers in its wake, amplifying every sensation, every second.

To my surprise, I feel the shift of the mattress as he lies down behind me. My mind races, trying to grasp his intentions, when suddenly his hands press between my legs, roughly pushing them apart. My heart catches in my throat, a nervous thrill coursing through me as he maneuvers himself lower, positioning his face directly below me. Oh God, I think as panic spreads through me.

His hands move to my hips, his grip tightening as his fingers dig into me with bruising force. He tries to pull my body down. I resist instinctively, anxiety consuming me, but his voice cuts through, rough and thick with desire. "Sit. Now."

I try to protest, a nervous whimper slipping out, but his nails press into my skin, anchoring me in place as he grips my hips, forcing me down. A rush of embarrassment flares as I instinctively try to wriggle free, but the second his mouth finds me-hot, wet, unrelenting-a tremor runs through me, my hands clutching the bedpost as a nervous flutter spreads through my stomach.

His grip tightens, pressing me down, his mouth moving over me with a slow, sensual purpose, covering every inch with focused, deliberate intent. Each pull of his lips sends waves of warmth cascading through me, my heartbeat echoing in perfect rhythm with every lingering touch. The heat builds, relentless, coursing through every nerve until it's all-consuming.

I've never felt anything like this, each sensation more intense than the last, leaving me breathless and spinning. His tongue presses firmly, unhurriedly, every movement heightening the pleasure to an almost unbearable level, leaving me lost in the overwhelming bliss he creates.

He pulls back just enough to let a moan escape, loud and hungry, reverberating through me. His mouth finds the most sensitive part of me, his tongue tracing slow, teasing circles before he gently sucks, his tongue pressing inside, filling me. The sensation is overwhelming, my legs beginning to tremble as he holds me steady, his grip tightening. His hands guide my hips, urging me to rock against him, drawing me into his rhythm.