Home > Bound to Deception(4)

Bound to Deception(4)
Author: J.L. Beck

He chuckles a deep dark rumble that thrums my nerve endings. “Let me go,” he mocks. “I’m not the one who did this to you, Malyshka. You did this to yourself.”

He places one big hand over my bare stomach to hold me on the bed. Is he going to fuck me? It would be rough and brutal, and maybe exactly what I need. Wasn’t that the plan? Fuck him into submission…

I can’t pretend I’m even remotely more than a pawn in my boss’s plans. Not anymore. Not after this fuck up. If Ivan doesn’t kill me, my boss will.

“Please,” I whimper. I hate the fucking noise coming out of my mouth right now.

He roughly strips my stockings off, ripping them in the process, and I writhe for it. Needing more of the elastic cutting into my skin, his rough fingers leaving bruises on my belly. All of it. Any of it. It’s the sensation I need most of all.

His gaze is heavy as he strips my stockings off my feet and then uses one of them to tie my wrists to the heavy wood headboard. My legs are free, but he takes the other stocking and ties one ankle to the end of the bed. Then he exits and returns and uses his tie to take care of my other ankle, leaving me spread wide open for him. At least he hadn’t taken my panties off yet. He hasn’t witnessed how shamefully sopping wet I am right now.

“Is this how you pictured the night going, Malyshka? You tied to my bed, begging me to take you?” His voice reaches into me, stoking the fire. I drop my gaze to his open pants and spot the outline of his hard cock bulging against the open zipper. He’s still hard, and he was big, one of the biggest dicks I’ve ever felt in my life, and I’ve touched many.

I drop my head back again to stare at the ceiling. A pulse of arousal scorches me, and I try to ride it out. It’s the only thing to do if I can’t have actual sex.

“What do you want?” I grit out. “I’ll fuck you…I’ll make you come harder than you ever have in your life.”

He crawls up on the bed to brace his body on all fours over mine, not touching me at all. “I don’t need you to get off. In fact, this display, you lying here like a cat in heat, is enough to take care of my own needs.”

I whimper at the image of him thrusting up into his own hand, pumping thick ropes of cum down his shaft and onto his thickly muscled thighs.

He dips his head but still doesn’t give me what I crave. “You like the idea of me stroking myself while I watch you. What other dirty thoughts are in that head of yours, hmmm?”

His eyes are dark in the dim room, his tattoos and scars stark against his skin. I can’t keep my eyes off him. His pulse is jumping in his neck, telling me he’s not as unaffected by me as he wishes.

“Is it because I’m a prostitute? Is that why you won’t touch me?”

He scoffs and rolls easily off the side of the bed to stand at the end again. “I don’t give a shit about what you choose to do for a living. I won’t touch you, especially not with my cock, because you haven’t earned it yet. You tried to drug me, and I assume when I was mindless with need, kill me?”

I shake my head frantically, lifting so my neck is aching at an angle. “No, I didn’t plan to kill you.”

His eyes narrow. “You didn’t plan any of this, did you? You’re just carrying out someone else’s orders. So who sent you? Tell me, and I might give you some relief.”

I whimper and drop my head down again. My pussy clenches, and I try to shake it off, but I need some stimulation. I need to come so bad it hurts on the inside. “I don’t know what the plan was. I just had to give you the drugs and do my job.”

“Someone paid you to drug me and fuck me? To what end? Did you even consider that I’m a man with very fragile control? If these drugs had gotten into my system, I could have fucked you into the mattress until you were nothing more than a corpse.”

Another whimper escapes as his weight comes up on the bed again. He grabs the panties at my hips and rips them away with one sharp swipe of a knife. The pull of the lace is enough to make my overheated body clench again.

He shifts, and when I open my eyes, he’s standing over me. Standing on the bed, boots and all, between my spread thighs. He lifts one of his boots and presses the toe right over my clit.

I screech and arch up off the bed, fighting the bonds. “You gave me something, so I’ll give you something. A little bit of relief, like I promised. But again, you haven’t earned my cock. Not my mouth. My fingers. Nothing but my boot. So if you want it, take it.”

It is awkward at first, me trying to get myself off on the tip of his boot, but it doesn’t take long. I writhe my hips, arching against his foot until I get the friction I need. When I come, I see stars, and again my pussy clenches around nothing, shooting another wave of pain through me.

I don’t think I’ll last the night, but I assumed he’d just shoot me, not torture me to death. My skin is hot, and the bonds are cutting into my wrists and ankles. A gut-churning wave of nausea rolls through me as my humiliation follows.

I just rutted against his boot to fucking come, and I’d do it again.

As if sensing my thoughts, he lifts his shoe and kneels on the bed next to me. “Anything else you want to share? You want to earn some more relief, Malyshka?”

He adjusts his hard-on to sit more comfortably, then completely ignores it. How can he sit there, turned on, and do nothing? He said he was a man with no control, yet he has infinitely more authority than I do now.

“What do you want to know?”

He studies me, his eyelids low, hiding himself. “Fort Knox, you are. Why did you come here? What was your plan for this?”

I swallow, my throat dry, and let my body go limp. If I can relax for a moment, maybe some of the need will subside. I focus on him. His sharp cheekbones, bright eyes, and all that ink are telling the world to stay the hell away from him. “I planned to drug you, fuck you, then ask for your help.”

“My help with what?”

I swallow and whisper, not trusting he doesn’t have ears even here. “To kill my boss.”

“The one who told you to drug me in the first place. That’s fucked up. Even in my world. Is Priscilla your real name?”

I nod, my head feeling heavier and heavier until I drop it back to the mattress again. The sheets smell like him, but I hadn’t noticed until just now. It makes me clench again. “My name is Priscilla Capri.”

Ivan slides off the bed like I lit his ass on fire. So he knows my family name then. Makes sense.

“There are no female Capri heirs. I hear they kill females or sell you off in their fucked-up farms as children.”

I shove the memories threatening to rise back down into the dark where they belong. “I am not an heir. I’m just the daughter of a lowly illegitimate Capri son. Arthur isn’t really acknowledged in the lineage. Nor am I.”

Ivan crawls back onto the bed, this time over me. I whimper at the heat and scent of him so close. He slides his knee between my legs until the hard muscle meets my core. “You’ve done well, Malyshka. You can hump my knee this time to get off.”

More tears pour down my cheeks, and I squeeze my eyes closed as I press harder against him. Finding a rhythm that gives me what I want takes a minute. Especially since I can’t tighten my hold on him with my legs tied down. His warm breath, smelling faintly of vodka, wafts against my face. I let myself retreat, imagining this isn’t humiliation but something sexier, deeper, foreplay, maybe. It only takes seconds to detonate again. I’m shaking and gasping when I open my eyes.

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