He bit.
He fucking bit me!
Not hard enough to injure, but enough that pain flared white-hot, scattering every thought from my mind.
I screamed, the sound torn between terror and something so devastatingly sharp it almost felt like bliss.
My back bowed off the mattress, ropes creaking as I writhed under him.
But no matter how hard I fought—
I couldn't escape.
He pulled his head away slowly, drawing out every excruciating second as my clit dragged between his teeth. The friction left a burning trail of sensation that radiated across my entire core, so sharp it made me gasp.
I tried to wriggle away—tried to inch backward, to slide even a fraction out of his reach. But he was faster.
His hands shot behind my knees.
And before I could process what he was doing, he forced my legs back—up and up—until my knees were pinned tight to my ears.
A fresh tear slipped free, hot and humiliated, as my body trembled violently.
No. No, please, no—
In this position, I was utterly exposed. Laid open to him in every way that mattered. My thighs quivered, my stomach clenching as I thrashed against the ropes binding my wrists.
But it was no use.
Just like always, the thrill of danger—the fear, the powerlessness sent a dark, unbearable heat straight to my core.
I felt it.
I hated that I felt it.
He had me curled so far inward that my ass no longer even touched the bed. As if I needed any more shame, I felt my own arousal—slick and obscene—sliding in a slow trail down my stomach.
His growl vibrated through the air, low and ragged.
I didn't have to look to know he'd seen it.
The desire flooding from me.
The proof of exactly how my body betrayed me.
A shiver racked his massive frame, power rippling down his arms as he held me there, pinned and helpless.
He didn't give me a chance to plead—or to pretend I would have.
He bent again, mouth sealing over my clit, and sucked me back into the wet heat of him.
I jerked so hard the ropes groaned above my head, the pleasure exploding fresh and brutal as he tugged at the swollen bud.
But this time—
He didn't soften.
He didn't use his tongue to soothe the ache.
He just let his teeth scrape, over and over, each movement driving another hoarse scream into the tape over my mouth.
Every time I tried to twist away, he clamped down harder.
So I forced my body to go stiff—motionless—praying he'd ease up if I didn't fight.
But he didn't.
The pressure only grew.
It built and built until the sharp pain sluiced through my clit, every nerve ending raw and singing.
I squealed, the sound guttural and broken, cursing him in a frantic rush of muffled words.
Just when I thought I couldn't take it—
He let go.
The air hit me like a slap, relief and lingering agony crashing together in a dizzying wave. My clit throbbed, swollen and sore.
I was still panting when I felt it—
His finger sliding inside me.
Slow, relentless, filling.
A ragged gasp burst from my throat as his fingertip curled up, finding the sweet spot with cruel precision.
My hips bucked without my permission, grinding down onto the intrusion.
A different kind of pleasure bloomed, thick and unstoppable—bliss that stung and burned and felt too good to bear.
"Did that hurt?" he asked softly.
His tone was almost gentle, infuriatingly so, as though he hadn't just wrung me out like an animal.
He tilted his head, studying the way his finger sank in and out of me, my arousal slicking his palm.
One of my legs slipped free of his grip. For a heartbeat, I thought about driving my heel into his face—knocking that unbearable calm right off him.
But the memory of his teeth stopped me cold.
So I just glared.
Silent.
Seething.
The rage burned so hot it felt like it would incinerate me from the inside out.
He hummed, clearly disappointed by my lack of words.
"Still so stubborn," he murmured.
Then he bent, mouth sealing over my clit again.
This time, he sucked gently, no biting—just enough pressure to leave me shaking.
At the same moment, his finger curled again, pressing perfectly against that spot that made my vision white out.
I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't think.
All I could do was feel.
Gently—almost mockingly—he scraped his teeth over the sensitive flesh again.
And again.
And again.
Each drag made my hips twitch, my body caught in a torturous limbo between the need for more and the desperate wish to rip his throat out.
Maybe I could.
Maybe if I survived this, I'd cut his hands off like he did Arch.
Knock his teeth out so he could never use them to turn my body against me again.
"Remember this, mon Eloise," he murmured between soft nips that made my toes curl against the sheets. "Remember that your disobedience…"
Another sharp nip that made my vision blur.
"…or defiance…"
His teeth grazed me again. I whimpered, shaking, even as I tried to jerk away.
"…outside pleasure…"
His voice dropped lower, darker.
"…will bring you pain."
My chest heaved, every breath a ragged, humiliated sob.
"I know you remember how good it felt when we kissed," he went on, his finger still buried inside me, perfectly still. "How whole you felt. Imagine my tongue inside you… my cock."
A choked sound broke in my throat.
"The pleasure you'd feel would be… blinding."
His finger curled, pressing into that spot he'd already discovered—the one that made the world explode behind my eyes.
Oh God.
I felt the break.
The moment my body betrayed me completely.
The moment it decided it needed what he was giving me more than it needed dignity or hatred.
I fought it—fought the dark, ragged part of me that wanted to beg him.
To plead for more.
To let go of the shame just so I could have the relief coiling tighter and tighter inside me.
I thrashed against it, tearing myself apart in a silent war.
No. No, no, no.