She giggles, and it makes my hard cock twitch with anticipation. I can’t even think about the fact that I’m playing into her game right now. Blakely knows what to do to piss me off, and she did it.
Opening my nightstand, I grab the handcuffs. Yanking her hands behind her back, I tighten them around her wrists as tight as I can and hear the little whimper she tries to hide. It makes me smile. I lean over her back and whisper in her ear, “You wanted to be punished. Remember that.”
Then I stand and flip her onto her back, pinning them underneath her and forcing a cry from her lips. It makes my hard cock twitch. Those three years I had to abstain from sex was nothing compared to the three weeks without her.
It was fucking torture.
Undoing my jeans, I pull my hard cock out and then undo the sash holding the trench coat closed. I rip it open to expose her body to me, and she arches her back, wiggling her arms underneath her to try to relieve the pain. It’s not going to help her.
Crawling onto the bed, I spread her legs with my knees, and my hand goes to her pussy. She’s wet. I knew she would be. She was already wound up, just begging to be fucked.
I slide into her, no foreplay. A part of me wants to hurt her. After I finish with her, I want her to still feel me between her legs. I lay my body on top of hers, pinning her down even more, bringing tears to her eyes.
“I missed you, Blake,” I say honestly, my lips trailing along her jawline. “And I’m going to show you just how much.”
My hips start to move, hard and fast. Our bodies slapping together.
She arches her back, a cry coming from her parted lips. I sit up, wrap my hands around her neck and squeeze, taking her air away while I pound into her soaking wet cunt. I watch her eyes grow heavy, and her lips turn blue. Just as her eyes fall shut, I let go, and she sucks in a ragged breath, coughing.
I slow my pace, feeling every inch of her wrapped around my length. “Look at me,” I demand, gripping her chin to hold her face in place.
Her watery eyes meet mine. “If another man ever touches you, I’ll kill him, Blake.” Lowering my lips to her cheek, I lick up her tears, tasting the saltiness. “Painfully … slowly.” I kiss the corner of her parted lips. “It doesn’t matter if you wanted him to or not,” I inform her. “And then I’ll remind you that you belong to me.” I slam into her, forcing a whimper out of her. “Do you understand me?”
Sitting up once again, I watch my cock slide in and out of her shaved pussy. My gaze goes back to hers, waiting for a response, but her eyes are closed. I slap the side of her breast, making her pussy tighten around my dick. “Answer me,” I demand, slapping the other one.
“Yes.” She moans. “I understand.”
“Who do you belong to?” I growl, my hips picking up the pace once again.
“You.”
“Fucking mine, Blake!” I grab her legs, my fingers digging into her thighs, and spread them wide open for me, allowing me to go deeper. I slam into her over and over again until she clamps down around me and comes all over my dick.
I don’t let up. The bed bangs against the wall, the room filled with her cries, her body now slick against mine. As I pick up my pace, my balls tighten.
“Ryat …” She breathes. “Ryat, I’m not …”
I lean over and place my hand over her mouth. I silence her, knowing exactly what she’s about to say, but I don’t give a fuck. Thrusting one more time, I come inside her.
I wait for a second while she lies underneath me, body shaking and trying to catch her breath. I pull out and fall down onto the bed beside her, expecting her to yell at me, but she doesn’t.
The doorbell rings, and I sit up, rolling her body onto her stomach to undo the cuffs. “Get dressed,” I order, slapping her ass, and then exit the bedroom, knowing we’ve still got shit to deal with. Our fight can wait until later.
BLAKELY
I DRESS BACK in my T-shirt and cotton shorts from earlier before I exit the bedroom and walk down the hallway to find Ryat sitting on the couch, my father in a recliner and that man from the house of Lords in the opposite one.
Glaring at Ryat, I take the couch but choose to sit at the other end. My anger for him once again at a ten.
“Trouble already?” the man asks, amusement in his voice.
“Who the hell are you?” I demand, crossing my arms over my chest. I’m mad that I lost the battle against Ryat. I challenged him, thinking I could win, and the bastard still beat me.
“Blakely—”