Page 17 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

A dark chuckle escapes him. “We’ll see about that. Because I have all night. And you’re already giving me plenty.”

He pulls me forward by my hips, just enough that my weight shifts. My arms strain in their bindings. The angle forces me to arch into him, chest to chest.

His mouth touches my neck, just below my ear. I feel the barest brush of lips against skin and I freeze. His hand fists in my hair, holding my head in place before his mouth finds my throat again. This time he doesn’t just graze.

The fucker bites.

I gasp, the sound escaping before I can stop it.

“Well, feel like playing nice now?” he murmurs against my skin. His lips soothe where his teeth marked. Tremors run through me despite every effort to stay still.

Torture I can handle. But what the fuck is even this?

His mouth trails lower, following the line of exposed skin down my chest. He reaches my collarbone, teeth scraping across my skin. I bite back another sound. My cock throbs heavy between my legs, leaking into my leathers.

Every touch chips away at something I can’t afford to lose. My control and the walls I’ve spent years building. His hands map my bare chest like he’s memorizing every inch, every scar, every place that makes my breath catch.

“You have interesting marks,” he murmurs. His thumb brushes across an old wound on my ribs. “This one here... someone tried to gut you. But you twisted at the last second and took it across the side instead.”

I can’t answer through the haze he’s creating. Each brush of his fingers scatters my thoughts further.

Garrett’s fingers ghost over another scar just above my heart. “This one... blade. But the angle is wrong for combat. Someone you trusted got too close.”

He reads the history written on my skin, fingers tracing each mark like he’s learning a new language.

“You’re shaking.” His voice softens slightly.

I know I am. Fine tremors run through my entire body. I pull back or at least try to. The chains don’t give me anywhere to go.

His hand slides down my stomach. Lower. “You’re not used to this, are you? Being touched like this.”

“Don’t—”

“Don’t what?” His hand cups me through my pants and squeezes gently. “Don’t touch you? But you’re so hard for me already.”

His hand starts a rhythm. Each stroke through the leather makes heat coil tighter in my gut.

“What are you trying to do?” I manage between breaths.

“Make you feel good.” He sounds genuinely confused by the question. “Isn’t that obvious?”

This is a fucking nightmare. I shouldn’t even be feeling good from this. But I’m trapped in a haze I can’t think my way out of. Pressure builds low in my spine relentlessly. At this rate I’ll—

“If you keep doing that I… I’ll come…”

“Go ahead then,” he mutters. “Come for me, Wolf.”

His hand resumes its rhythm, firmer now against my cock. Heat builds until it’s the only thing I can feel. His mouth finds my nipple, teeth closing around it and something inside me snaps.

Release slams through me without warning. My vision whites out behind the blindfold. Every muscle locks tight as pleasure tears through me in waves. I come hard in my pants, shaking against the chains, unable to stop the sounds spilling from my throat.

When I come back to myself, I’m trembling. My legs barely hold my weight.

What the fuck just happened?

I didn’t just—I couldn’t have—

But I did. I came from being chained up and humiliated.