Page 69 of Empress of Ruin
His smile turns genuinely amused. “That would be entertaining. Can you imagine what their surprise would be like?” he chuckles.
I shake my head, astonished. “You… are genuinely insane.”
“And you, my love, are stalling.” He rattles the cuffs and jerks his chin at the phone, lying discarded at the foot of the bed. “Go on, now.”
I bite my lip, dismounting him and reaching for the phone.
First things first, I set a passcode. One that Killian won’t be able to guess. Then, I open the camera app, but can’t quite move after that. I just stare between the screen and Killian’s hard, hot body.
“Lyra.” Killian’s tone has gone hard. “Do it. Take pictures, videos, whatever—stop stalling.”
“I…” I can’t even finish the sentence. I’m still half expecting to wake up from this insane dream.
“You can,” Killian says. “It’s quite simple, really. Aim and snap.” When I still don’t move, his expression turns condescending. “Really, Little Bird? I did much worse to you. I let you think I was going to kill you. I made you helpless, and—”
Click. I take the first photo with the phone, but it’s not enough. It catches Killian’s naked profile, but his demeaning expression undermines its intent. To display him as helpless.
But Killian King can never be helpless—it’s not in his nature.
Unless…
I climb back onto the bed and carefully curl my hand around the base of his cock. It’s so thick my fingers barely touch, and I almost wince with sympathy for myself. No wonder I’m perpetually sore.
A muscle in Killian’s jaw jumps, but his composure remains. “Is that all you’ve got? Really, Lyra, all this time we’ve spent together and youstillcan’t—”
I jerk him once, almost angrily. Dry skin against dry skin is awkward and uncomfortable—Killian winces a bit. I drop the phone and straddle his legs, suddenly filled with determination, paired with righteous anger. He thinks I can’t do better? I’ll fucking show him.
I haven’t gone down on Killian much—his style is usually fucking my throat, when he’s in the mood. But tonight, I’m going to tease him untilhe’sthe one begging, and there isn’t shit he can do about it.
I carefully cup his balls, just dancing a light touch over them. He shivers, eyes growing half-lidded. I massage them gently, deliberately, and hover my mouth right over the tip of his cock. It oozes with precum, and my mouth waters at the sight. I want to taste him. Just this once, I want to control him, and I want to make him lose control.
“Fuck,” he grits when I gently tug his balls. He opens his mouth to speak, but his words get lost on a feral groan when I engulf the tip of his cock with my mouth and run my tongue over the slit, lapping up the salty bead of moisture. His eyes roll into the back of his head. Somehow, I manage to get my free hand on the phone, and snap a picture of him. It won’t show much; his face and his bare chest, not anythingreallyincriminating.
His eyes flash open when he hears the click. “You little minx,” he chuckles roughly. “You really are dangerous, you know that?”
I suck harder in response, and a low groan is torn from his chest. I take him deeper into my mouth, only slightly, and swirl my tongue over the velvety underside of his cock. He grunts, and the handcuffs rattle as he tugs at them.
I keep going, starting to slowly bob my head, one hand cupping his balls and taking him deeper with every pass. It’s far more comfortable than when he fucks my throat. It’s actually… enjoyable. Heat gathers at my core, and my nipples harden into diamonds.
Shit. Maybe Icanget off on this sort of depravity.
“Fuck,” Killian grunts again. “Jesus… Christ…” I pull off suddenly, releasing him, and manage to snap a picture of him—cock in frame this time—while his eyes are still rolled back with ecstasy.
Anger flashes in his gaze when his eyes meet mine again. “Finish what you started,” he commands.
I arch an eyebrow. “Make me.”
He tugs on the handcuffs harder.Muchharder. For a second, I fear they’re actually going to snap off. Theydidfeel a little light…
I take a small video of him struggling against them, then set aside the phone again. Run my fingernails down his hard chest and abs, enjoying the red scratches left behind. On second thought, I snap a photo of those, as well.
“Lyra,” he says warningly. “You better get your mouth around my cock again—”
I drop the phone and squeeze his base, hard enough to shut him up. Then, I follow his instructions—butmyway.
I tease him. Bring him to the point where he’s twitching and grunting, only to pull back and snap photos or take videos when I feel him getting close to the edge. I take my time, surprised by how much I’m enjoying this, how muchhe’senjoying this. It’s not like he has much of a choice—I know he’s attracted to me. Enough so that even this position, which I’m certain is not his cup of tea, can turn him on—as long as it’smehe’s doing it with.
There’s power in that realization. There’s nothingbutpower in this whole twisted, sordid situation, and for once, the power’s mine.
