Kian
Renata’s eyes blaze with a ferocious kind of determination that’s got me hard as fucking rock. She’s a woman on a mission. The question is… what’s the objective?
I have a feeling this is the only way to find out.
I move closer and gently uncuff her. A part of me is still wary. If this is a ploy, it’s a damn good one.
It’s all in the eyes.My brothers and I have lived by that creed our entire lives. This is the first time I’ve fallen back on that saying, only to find myself still languishing in uncertainty.
She lookssincere. She sounds sincere, too. But I’m not sure if my own desires are tainting my perception of her sudden willingness to submit to me.
One thing’s for sure: I can’t ignore my needs any longer.
I’d hoped that fucking Renata the other day might quell my desire for her. I’d never gone back to the same woman twice. Not since Annabelle. For almost twenty years, it’s been the rule that keeps me sane. Soothe my hunger once, and then send the woman in question packing, never to be seen again. It’s worked. My life has been manageable. My needs have been tamed.
That is, until Renata arrived.
She’d fucked me hard enough to turn me into a beast. I’d ripped the cuffs right off the chair and devoured her like both our lives depended on it. It was unlike anything else I’ve ever done before. And for one brief, blissful second, I thought it would be enough.
I was wrong.
That one coupling hadn’t done anything to stop my desire for her. In fact, it had only inflamed it. Since the moment I let myself taste her, I’ve wanted to take Renata again the way she ought to be taken.
Down here.
In The Room.
With all the tools and toys I need to break her the way she’s begging to be broken.
I’ve barely slept in the nights since we fucked. Too busy wondering what was going through her head. Too busy wondering what it would mean to violate the one rule I’ve lived by for so goddamn long.
But as she straightens in front of me now, I can see my desire reflected in her eyes. Her lips part slowly, her chest rises and falls slowly and her hard nipples stab through the sheer fabric of her shirt.
How the fuck am I supposed to resist that?
I toss the cuffs to the side. She watches them clatter against the floor a few feet away from us.
“Won’t we need those?” she asks.
“We’re going to start with something different.”
Her breath hikes up a little and her eyes go wide. “Oh. Okay. So what do I…?”
“Strip.”
She takes a moment, swallows hard. And then she starts removing her clothes without argument. She does so slowly, sensually, and every now and again, she glances back at me. I watch her intently until she’s standing naked in front of me.
Her body is taut and impressive. Her hips lithe and supple. Her breasts high and plump.
She’s my fucking wet dream made reality.
I scour her with my gaze and then I start to circle her slowly. I’m still fully clothed, and I know it’s a dichotomy that she’s not wholly comfortable with. But she bites her lip and says nothing.
I can tell she’s trying so hard to figure out the rules of the dance here. But that’s the fun part—I’m the only one who knows them.
My cock jumps impatiently, brushing against the crotch of my trousers. I’m determined not to rush this experience for either one of us, though. She deserves to see it done right.
As I circle her, I let my fingers trail around her body. I brush against her breasts and run my hand over her cheeks. I resist the urge to slap her ass. There’ll be time enough for that later.