Steve Rogers thought he was one of the lucky ones but Natasha Romanoff, well, she thought that she was terribly misfortunate and she would love to kick fate's ass. In a world where soulmates are real, unequivocal marks etched on skin signifying an i...
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The darkness consumed Natasha, a blindfold over her eyes that heightened her senses entirely, and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Her hands were tied to the board above her head, her wrists were aching, and the blanket underneath her nude body rubbed her uncomfortably. She was exposed and utterly vulnerable, on display like a trophy to be claimed, a mark to be overthrown. She had little dignity left, but she still had her pride, and she would hold onto that like it was her lifeline because that's just who she was.
The Black Widow.
She heard footsteps against the hardwood floors somewhere in the room, the creak and groan of the floorboards. Adrenaline coursed through her body, her legs tensing to kick out at anyone who dared to touch her as she lay in such a vulnerable position. She wished that she could look at the man who had restrained her, to stare him in the eyes so he could see that she would never submit to anybody.
She was the Black Widow, made of marble. Unbreakable.
Her heart began to race when she felt him lean over her body, his breath ghosting across her breasts and making goosebumps rise on her skin. She shifted away from him but the restraints held her in place - right where he wanted her.
"You will yield." He whispered.
Her pride swelled in her chest, but it felt as though her heart had skipped a beat as his husky voice filled her ear. No matter how much she had told herself that he had no effect on her, his strength, his dominating presence, she couldn't lie to herself. There was just something about him, about the way he had her restrained, exposed, and how much he was determined to make her his... to claim her: mind, body, and soul.
"No, I won't." She snapped. She lifted her knee to kick out at him, but he grasped both her legs and pinned them to the bed. The bedsprings groaned under his weight as he kneeled over her, and her stomach fluttered as he pulled her legs apart. She was spread open for him like a butterfly, and he sat between her thighs as if he owned her. She felt his searing gaze on her bare pussy, and her blood ran cold despite the heat between her legs.
"So, so beautiful." He said, sounding breathless. She hated it. He was evidently getting off on the sight of her naked, blindfolded, and her hands tied above her head. Perhaps he was a sadist, a man who thoughthe could dominate a woman by simply tying her up. Perhaps he was a mere creep or perhaps he was a nobody who yearned to be someone, a twisted, restless soul who thought trying to dominate the Black Widow would earn him a fragment of self-respect.
"You're lucky I'm tied up." She hissed between her teeth.
She growled lowly as his large, coarse hands, scarred from years of battle, slid up her shapely thighs to cup her swollen belly.
"If you would've done that earlier, we wouldn't have this bundle of joy." He said.
