The gown fell to the floor, and she kicked out of her slippers before reaching for the hem of her chemise. An audible intake of breath came from where Robert lay on the bed as she hiked the undergarment up over her hips, her belly, her breasts. A little smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth as she tossed the chemise aside to discover that he’d grown even harder, his prick now standing straight up from his groin, the tip glistening. His chest heaved as he stared at her, propped up on his elbows as he drank her in.
She might not be considered a diamond of the first water, but had known she had the necessary goods to make him want her. If the way his pupils widened to eat up the blue of his irises was any indication, her long, lithe form pleased him. She had to admit the way he looked at her heightened her need, causing her nipples to pebble as if he were touching them, and the slow throb took up an incessant cadence between her thighs.
After untying her garters and removing her stockings, she approached the bed. His posture was all wrong, his upper body still propped up by his bent arms. Instead of telling him to correct it, she’d simply show him what she wanted. Best he learned early on that she meant to be the one in charge.
His breath rushed out on a shocked huff when she put a hand to the center of the chest and pushed, flattening him to his back. The awe in his gaze amused her, but even more telling was the way his cock twitched in reaction.
So, Mr. Stanley enjoyed being pushed around, did he? She might have missed it if she had not been watching him like a hawk, alert for any sign that he meant to jump up and try to take control of her.
Emboldened by that knowledge, she braced a knee on the bed and reached for one of her ropes. He didn’t resist when she took hold of an arm, lifting it over his head and deftly tying him to the headboard. Millicent had taught her the proper knots for use in bondage, and she put that knowledge into practice now.
Climbing up over Robert, she straddled his torso and reached up for his other arm, lashing it to the wooden rails of the headboard as she had the other. Then, she took a moment to inspect her handiwork, making sure the bonds weren’t too tight, but still properly knotted to keep him from slipping free.
Then, her gaze fell on his face and she found him watching her, a bit of curiosity in his expression. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but clamped it shut, seemed to think better of it, then tried again.
“Your hair,” he murmured, his voice a near whisper.
She stiffened atop him, a thread of uncertainty winding through her as she reached up to touch her simple coiffure. The odd hue had been the bane of her existence her entire life, not blond enough or red enough to be called pretty, too strange not to draw notice.
“What about it?” she snapped.
He gave her a little smile, the motion blinding in its intensity, its beauty. He had probably disarmed countless women with that smile.
It made her want to slap it right off his face.
“Would you … take it down?” At her bewildered expression, he cleared his throat, then added, “Please.”
What game was this? Such an odd request, yet she supposed it couldn’t hurt. He’d gone along with her rules thus far, so she supposed she could give him this one thing.
“Fine,” she huffed, reaching up to begin plucking the pins from her hair, making it fall down her back in unsightly coils.
Despite her own distaste for the ridiculous hue God had cursed her with, Robert gazed up at her as if pleased, giving a little nod once she had finished and dropped the pins into a pile on the floor.
She leaned down and let the curtain of strands fall over one shoulder, the ends of it brushing his bare chest. His eyes grew heavy-lidded and he shifted beneath her.
“Happy?” she asked.
He raised his head, his breath tickling her cheek. “Lovely.”
She reared back just before he could kiss her, his mouth brushing against hers. He made a little sound of frustration and tried again. This time, she rewarded him with a slap, her hand stinging as it made contact with his cheek. He gasped, his head whipping to the side as she settled her arse onto his chest. A flare of heat surged within her at the sight of her fingerprints marring his perfect complexion, a flush spreading over his face and neck as he looked back at her, eyes gone wide with shock.
She slammed her palm into his jaw, taking hold of his face with unrelenting fingers. “Let me make myself a bit clearer. You are not to do a thing unless I tell you to. If I want you to lay here like a corpse while I ride your cock to my own satisfaction, then that’s what you will do. Do we understand one another?”
His harsh breaths hissed out between clenched teeth, and he looked as if he hovered somewhere between outrage and arousal. His cock must have won the battle, because despite his clenched jaw and flaring nostrils, he nodded his agreement.
“Good,” she said, releasing his jaw and grabbing a fistful of his hair.
He grunted when she dipped her head and bit at his mouth, catching his lower lip between her teeth, then groaned when she gave it a hard tug. Yanking harder on his hair, she tipped his head back and rose up onto her knees.
“You’ve such a pretty mouth, Robert,” she said, shifting her body so that she straddled his head. “I can think of a far better use for it.”
Robert took to her meaning without hesitation, opening his mouth as she lowered herself within reach of his tongue. His lips brushed against her quim, his sharp breaths tickling her curls. Then he flicked his tongue at her, aiming at the seam of her mons and seeking the delicate flesh hidden within. She drew in a swift breath and held it, her throat and chest burning as she waited for him to do it again, to heighten the little frisson of pleasure that single stroke had caused.
He lifted his gaze to hers, holding it without blinking as he went back for more, his tongue darting at her opening and then stroking upward, landing on her clitoris. Her breath came out on a low groan and she tightened her hold on his hair, surging her hips in a silent command for more.
Robert licked her again, the slow, burning lap sending a jolt of pleasure through her like a lightning strike. Then, with a ragged growl, he raised his head, pulling his hair out of her grasp and pressing his open mouth completely against her. Cassandra trembled, reaching out to take hold of the rough headboard as he began to devour her like a starving man, his mouth pulling and sucking, his tongue lashing the pulsing bud at her center with relentless insistence.
This … this was nothing like what she’d been led to expect. Millicent had explained the act to her, and it had sounded nice enough. She’d known she’d gain pleasure from it, probably enjoy it more than being filled by a cock.
But this wasn’t simple pleasure. This was like falling and flying all at once, like coming alive, all her nerve endings sparking and creating sensations in places she’d never even known existed.
Tightening her fingers on the headboard, she threw her head back and released the last of her reservations. This was what she’d wanted —this feeling of power and pleasure, all of it overshadowing any fears she’d entered this room with. She rode his mouth with abandon, adjusting to the angle that resulted in perfect pressure against her clit. For all she knew, she was suffocating the man, but couldn’t find it in herself to care … so long as she came off before he drew his last breath.
She was so close, something deep inside her winding up tight, a building sense of urgency making her movements more erratic, less controlled. Glancing down at Robert, she found him completely engrossed in his ministrations, eyelashes lowered over his cheekbones as he worked her with his mouth. He was even prettier like this, head between her thighs, hair mussed, and her hand print in a pink outline on his cheek. It made her want to strike him again, yank his hair, bite him places that would mark him further. Her perfect little canvas.
His eyes snapped open as if he’d felt her looking at him, though he never ceased driving her mad. Gaze locked with hers, he surged his head up and latched onto her clit, pulling on it with strong, belly-quivering sucks.
“Oh,” she exclaimed, her thighs trembling on either side of his head as the first tremors of a powerful release began to sweep through her. “Oh … fucking hell!”
Robert groaned, applying himself to her pleasure even more, strumming her clit in swift circles and sucking in perfect unison. She splintered, digging her nails into the headboard and holding on for dear life as climax tore through her like a raging storm. Her clit tingled and deep pangs of poignant and near painful pleasure stabbed through her inner thighs and deep within her womb, until she nearly collapsed on top of him.
She held herself up, riding out every second of her finish, trembling as Robert went on kissing and licking her. His attentions were gentler now, as if he knew she’d become even more sensitive to touch. As if he knew that one more slow drag of his tongue over her clit might actually kill her after such a powerful release. So intent was he on his task, he seemed genuinely shocked when she began to pull away.
He chased her with a little huff of annoyance, his tongue skimming in her a hurried stroke. “I wasn’t finished, yet.”
She couldn’t help a smile at the petulant disappointment she found on his face. “Eager little thing, aren’t you?”
He raised his head, trying to capture her in his mouth again, but she’d moved farther down his body, straddling his chest and putting herself out of his reach.
“Come back here,” he groused, narrowing his eyes at her.
She grasped his chin again, gentler this time. Apparently, the spectacular things he could do with his mouth had stoked her softer side.
“That was marvelous, but I have other plans.”
He gasped as she moved down his body until the tip of his cock brushed against her sopping wet entrance.
“Yes,” he sighed, surging his hips upward, trying to get closer to her, get inside her.
She moved out of his reach, skittering back to crouch between his legs. It was difficult not to laugh at the look on his face, equal parts desperation and frustration. The sound came out completely foreign, low and throaty, as if from the lips of some sort of seductress.
Completely unlike her.
She liked it. She liked everything about this experience—the thrill of being in control, the heady feeling following a climax, the feel of his eyes on her, expectant and pleading for more.
Why had she ever been afraid?
“Please,” Robert whispered, bucking his hips again.
The motion caused his cock to brush against her knuckles, his skin silken and soft, but scorching in its heat. The word he’d just uttered fell on her like the stroking of his tongue, bringing her arousal back to life with surprising force.
“Say it again,” she urged, staring at his mouth so she could see the word form there. “Beg me for what you want.”
He squirmed, his arms pulling at the ropes, the flesh around them turning pink. It must hurt, but she didn’t care. Hell, he didn’t seem to either, his arousal becoming worse by the second. He was hard and straining upward, the tip of his prick an angry red, beads of mettle gathering at the slit.
He liked this—his own helplessness, her control, perhaps even the pain of the ropes biting into his wrists, made so by his own thrashing.
“Please,” he said again, the word coming out heavy and breathless. “Please, touch me.”
She obliged him, no longer able to hold back. This would be her first time touching a real cock with a willing hand, and she realized with some degree of shock that she actually wanted to touch Robert’s.
He hissed when her fingers closed around him. The organ in her grasp was rock hard, a vein along its side pulsing as if the thing had its own heartbeat. As she studied it with an untamed curiosity, he began to move, hips shifting to create friction between his cock and her hand. He seemed mindless with need, practically fucking her fist as he strained against the ropes.
It would seem he’d grown impatient. She couldn’t have that.
Giving his cock a tight squeeze, she simultaneously brought the heel of her free hand onto the crease where his thigh met his pelvis. Pressing down, she found the mass of nerves and tendons Millicent had told her about—ones that, when pressed, would cause a flare of pain that could subdue even the strongest man.
It had the intended effect, Robert letting out a bellow and shuddering beneath her before going still. He stared down at her with wide, wild eyes, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe through what she felt certain must be a good degree of pain. Yet, his cock was as hard as ever, his bollocks drawn up tight, another telltale bead of moisture making his head gleam in the light of the fire.
“Bloody hell,” he whispered with breathless awe. “I don’t … I don’t understand how …”
“You like the pain,” she told him, smoothing her thumb over the pressure point she’d just tortured, noting the way it made him shiver. “Adversely … I like hurting you ... more than I ought to.”
He wrinkled his brow, seeming to wrestle with himself, with her words. She could practically hear the wheels turning in his mind as he tried to rationalize what was happening between them.
Cassandra didn’t have time for that. She’d come to terms with who she was, the things she wanted. Robert could do the same on his own time … right now he was hers.
She bent her head and flicked her tongue over the tip of his prick, which seemed to tear him away from his distracting thoughts. He moaned, and she went back for more, lapping at him and dipping her tongue into his slit. The salty taste of his seed invaded her palate—not altogether unpleasant.
“Christ,” he groaned, arching his back as she enveloped him into her mouth.
She took him in until he hit the back of her throat, then withdrew before trying again, taking up a slow and steady rhythm. He seemed to have a hard time keeping still, and Cassandra wondered if she ought to have tied his ankles as well, spreading his legs and making it harder for him to thrust at his own pace. But then, she found she didn’t mind it so much now that she’d found a rhythm … now that she realized he couldn’t be still because of her.
Laying her thumb over the bruise that had begun to form over his pressure point, she pushed against it while drawing her lips up his shaft in a long, slow drag.
Robert bit back another loud cry, gritting his teeth so it came out more like a growl. She did it again, noticing the way it made the muscles in his belly clench and his arms jerk against his bonds. A dizzying sensation swept over her, as if she’d had too much to drink. Only she was drunk off the moment, off the thrill of having a man at her mercy. And not just any man. He was the sort her mother or sisters might have told her she’d never have; the sort she’d once been terrified of.
With the last of her reservations discarded, there was nothing left for it. She couldn’t wait any longer, and it seemed as if Robert hung on by a thread.
It was time to finish this, to move past the final barrier holding her back, keeping her in that place of fear and revulsion. Robert muttered an oath when she released him from her mouth, but watched her with eager expectation as she climbed up over his body, positioning herself to take him inside.
He licked his lips, locking his gaze on the sight of her angling him so that his broad head rested right against her clit. She rubbed herself against him, using him to stimulate the little nub and coating him in her juices. A shudder wracked her as she increased her pace, rolling her hips and gripping his cock tighter to keep him at the right angle.
She could spend just like his, from the friction of his tip offering the perfect counterpoint to each surge of her hips. Robert seemed to be right there with her, his breaths coming out in harsh pants, hips flexing as he tried to push harder against her.
“Take me inside you, please … please.”
Her eyes slid shut and she trembled, that damned word wreaking havoc on her senses once again. She could listen to him beg until his voice had gone hoarse.
“Try again, Robert,” she urged, placing him just inside, but refusing to slide onto
him until she got what she wanted. “Beg me to do what I said I would when we first spoke downstairs. You remember, don’t you?”
His eyes glittered with a feral light, all his good sense and notions of what might be right, wrong, or seemly washed away. He was a trembling mass of want and need, just like her, and would, apparently, do anything to be put out of his misery.
“Fuck me,” he rasped, rocking against her, trying to nudge his way deeper into her. “Fuck me, please.”
She sank down onto him in one swift motion, her eyes rolling up into her head as both his cock and his words filled her, making a liquid heat erupt from somewhere deep within. Bracing her hands against his chest, she gave herself over without a second thought, too far gone now to think about the past, her fears, her anger, any of it. She rode him at a maddening pace, her fingers pressing against his chest, thighs slapping against his. Her cunt stretched around him with a delicious and pleasant pull, the thick width of him pushing up against her most sensitive places.
Robert met each of her downward motions with upward thrusts of his own. She’d expected to tie him down and fuck him … not for him to fuck her back with this sort of abandon and lack of restraint. He was a madman, panting and grunting, forehead broken out into a sweat as he drove up into her, stroking the sweet spot buried just within her cunt.
To her surprise, she was happy to let him, to meet him stroke for stroke and match his rhythm, to be as unbridled and unrestrained as he was. She clawed at him, dragging her nails down his chest and making him roar, swiveling her hips and taking him in deeper, so deep she felt stretched to her limit, full and bursting with him.
She had to grasp the headboard for leverage, which put her breasts within reach of his mouth. He took advantage without hesitation, lifting his head with a rough groan to take a nipple between his lips. The heat of his mouth and rasp of his tongue threw her over the edge, and she trembled atop him, her vision going dark at the edges as she fought for more time. She wasn’t ready for this to end, for the heady rush of power, pleasure, and glory to be over. Yet, there was no stopping it, the scrape of Robert’s teeth against the tender tip of her breast hurtling her into a dark miasma of pure, tortuous delight.
The Damsel: A Villain Duology Sequel Page 6