BRIELLE
Tick-tick-tick. Thorin watches the second hand cross the 12. Then his eyes slide back to mine, the gray of his irises seeming to darken by the breath. “Give me your bag, Pet.”
Oh. My. God. The tone of his voice shifts. Gone is the agreeable man I was just setting expectations with. In his place is a Viking in a dress shirt, dead set on making me his. I reach down under the table to the purse full of rope. I’ve carried it with me all day, zipped up and clipped shut, out of fear that someone would find it if I left it alone for more than 3.2 seconds.
Leo rolls backward in his chair, clicking the lock on the door. “You’re going to have to keep her quiet,” he says lazily.
“Oh, I think I can manage that…” Thorin cocks his head to the side, openly admiring my body. “You know what I thought when I saw you in this sweet shirt, Pet?” I shake my head, unable to look away once he sets his sights on my face. “I thought you looked like a Sunday school teacher. So innocent with these little pearl buttons…”
He leans over me, kissing my forehead, his fingers tracing the line of pearls from my neck, all the way down to the waist of my pants. He rubs the lowest button, slowly swirling it in a tight circle with his index finger. My breath hitches, heat flooding my core as I realize what he’s doing.
“I wanted to rip it to shreds. Send those sweet little buttons flying so I could corrupt every last inch of you.”
My hips lift involuntarily. Everything is involuntary right now. His eyes have me under a spell, and I let myself go. There’s a freedom in it that I’ve been craving since the second I left them last night.
They can put me where they want. Take me however they want to. Because deep down, I know they’ll take care of me. And right now, I love that I don’t have to guess what he wants, because I know he’ll tell me. He’ll demand it. Take it. And he’ll make my body sing.
“Such pretty little buttons,” Thorin muses, pressing my hips back down into the chair. Slipping his fingers into the waistband of my pants, he flicks it open and slides the zipper down. He finds the next pearl button, rubbing it against my pubic bone in slow, soft circles.
Just below his finger, my clit is throbbing, screaming to be next. “But now you have to wait.” He covers my mouth with his hand and flicks his middle finger against my clit with deadly accuracy.
I cry out in shock, but it turns into a moan, muffled by his hand. Movement out of the corner of my eye distracts me. Mallon and Leo are on their feet, unbuckling belts and unzipping pants.
“Pants off, little bunny, but keep the panties.” I try not to whine at his words as I lift my hips and push my wide-leg trousers down. Thorin doesn’t help. He just crosses his arms and watches me until I’ve set them aside. “Good girl. Now get on your knees. Hands behind your back.” I follow orders, sliding out of my chair and sinking to the carpet, never taking my eyes off him. “Someone is feeling obedient,” he rumbles, stroking my cheek affectionately.
He reaches into the bag of rope, pulling out pieces of the teal cord until he finds one he likes. He makes quick work of freeing the leftover knots and kneels behind me, pulling my forearms over each other so my fingers reach the opposite elbow.
There’s a gentle stretch in my shoulders and chest as he binds my arms in place. By the time he’s done, I can’t budge them a single centimeter, let alone an inch. He wraps rope around my ankles, gathers my hair into a ponytail, and lifts my chin with one finger.
I can’t really tell what he’s doing until he comes back around, arms crossed in satisfaction. He’s tied my hair to my arms, and my arms to my ankles, the position forcing my body into an exaggerated arc.
The front of my shirt strains, buttons threatening to pop off on their own volition as I try not to topple over backwards. Thorin puts his foot between my knees and utters one word. “Spread.”
I can’t move my feet, but I walk my knees outward, finding the act of balancing so much easier. Mal and Leo step closer, and with a whimper I realize they have their dicks in their hands, and they’re stroking the rock-hard lengths as they watch me struggle.
Thorin pushes his foot right under my pussy and I gasp as the laces bump along my clit through my underwear. “Don’t come.” There’s no missing the force behind his demand. The subtext. Or else.
Thorin undoes his belt, pulling it out of its loops. He uses his thumb to open my mouth and sets the belt across my tongue. “Be a good girl and hold this for me.” The scent of leather fills my nostrils, and I’m fighting the urge to grind against his foot. There’s something so… filthy about being used like this, but I don’t care. Not when it feels this good.
He shoves his pants down, just far enough to free his cock. It juts toward me, bobbing just out of reach, not that I can get a great look at it. My bindings keep my eyes turned up toward Thorin. He watches me with a dark, heated expression, rolling up his shirt sleeves.
He takes his time, but every now and then he wiggles his foot to send jolts of pleasure coursing through me, smirking when I squirm. When he’s finally satisfied that his sleeves won’t interfere, he sets his stormy gaze on my shirt. He doesn’t rip it off, sending the buttons flying. And as hot as I thought that would have been, what he does is even better.
Thorin reaches down, yanking the fabric roughly as he releases each button. He’s so strong that he nearly lifts me off of my knees, and every tug pulls my forward against his foot. I press my lips together and close my eyes, but there’s no concealing the way my breath shudders on every exhale.
“Look at me,” he demands, stroking my upturned chin with one finger. I open my eyes and find him admiring me. He leans down, tracing the edges of my bra. “I love this… more white. How… virginal. Look at you trying to play the innocent. You don’t quite pull it off when your nipples beg for attention like that though.”
He scrapes his nails over the fabric, teasing me before pinching both of my nipples hard enough to make me gasp around his leather belt. “So pretty,” he murmurs.
Something inside of me purrs at the praise. Needing it. Craving it. He takes the belt from my mouth, wiping the edge of my lip with his thumb before looping the leather behind my neck. He holds both ends in front of me, clutched in one hand and strokes my hair with the other.
“Can’t have my good girl falling.” The sensation of the leather around my neck is incredible; smooth and supple, but firm enough that he could really yank me around if he wanted to. Thorin presses his thumb to my lips, opening my mouth and dragging my bottom lip down with the pad of his thumb.