Renata
In my twenty-five years, I’ve never once understood the concept of “getting wet.” It feels more like the kind of thing women say because it sounds sexy, when in actuality, they’re not really feeling much of anything down there.
But when Kian says those words—growls them, really, in a deep, feral voice that drips of masculine energy—I understand completely.
“I’ll take you whichever way I can get you.”
As soon as they leave his lips, my pussy throbs with renewed desire and I feel moisture pooling between my legs. My body wants him and only him. It doesn’t need anything else.
His left arm is cuffed to the chair. Without that buffer, I’m not sure I’d be as confident. It’s hard for him, though—that much is obvious. He keeps pulling at his steel tether, his hand clenching into a fist before releasing again.
A frustrated growl escapes his lips, but somehow, that just makes my pussy clench harder. I can feel the hard bulge of his cock and I’m desperate to touch him.
His free hand is looped around my waist, cupping my ass possessively. I run my hand down his chest, slowly undoing the buttons to hide the fact that my fingers are trembling. I’m pretty sure he notices, though. His blue eyes are dark and they’re watching me with unblinking focus.
“Is this what it feels like for you?” I ask with a shaky voice. “When you’ve got a woman chained and at your mercy?”
His lips twitch upwards in a wry grin. “What does it feel like for you?”
“Scary.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Then no,” he replies. “It doesn’t feel the same for me.”
“So I’m doing it wrong?”
“You’re unpracticed,” he tells me. “But it’s simple. You want control?”
“Yes.”
“Then take it.”
Those words send fire coursing through me. His cock jumps, brushing against my leg and I abandon all thought to act on pure instinct.
I unzip him and pull his cock free. It’s large, both in length and in girth. A cock that size might have filled me with dread at one time. I would’ve seen it as a weapon trying to kill me. But now, all I can feel is excitement.
“You like what you see, Renata?” Kian asks, watching my expression.
“Yes. God, yes.”
He squeezes my ass and then tries to undress me with one hand. But I push his hand away from me and instead pin it to the armrest.
He’s definitely turned on, but there’s a part of him that’s still fighting for dominance, too.
“I’ve never been in control like this before,” I tell him.
“Because no man has ever allowed you to be.”
I realize that, despite the steel cuffs, Kian is strong enough to dominate me even in this position. But he’s holding himself back. He’s giving me the reins because he knows that this is what I need.
Once I’ve unbuttoned his shirt, I push the fabric aside and marvel at the ripples and indentations of his muscles. He’s so fucking beautiful that for a long time, I just touch him and stare. Every so often, he bucks underneath me, making sure his cock is pressed up against my pussy. I know he’s impatient, but I like that. I like knowing that sex will only happen if and when I want it to.
Rubbing my pussy against his naked cock, I lean in and kiss him. It’s a deep kiss and I find myself enjoying the sensation of his tongue in my mouth.
It’s strange. I used to hate French kissing. It always felt invasive to me. An act of ownership, not love.
But I realize now that that was only because I was kissing all the wrong men. When I kiss Kian… it’s different.
I break the kiss and push myself off Kian’s lap. Then I peel off my clothes, one by one, until I’m standing naked in front of him. Strangely, I don’t feel conscious of the fact that he’s still relatively clothed and I’m bare.