Page 78 of Their Wicked Cage

“Good.” He presses his hand flat against my chest and holds it there. “You in this dress.” His eyes are heavy-lidded. “Fucking stunning. Earlier, in the hallway, I was desperate to touch you like this.” His hand slides over the floral beading to cup my breast. My hardened nipples brush against the fabric, and I feel the sensation all the way in my toes. “And like this.” His touch drifts lower, skating across the beading of my corset and my hip, drifting behind me until he grips my ass with both hands. “I wanted to touch you so badly I had to steal a kiss to remind myself why I couldn’t. But that pathetic kiss wasn’t enough. I had to go to my suite and touch myself to the thought of what I want to do to you.”

My toes curl into the rug. “Did your thoughts of me hurt?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

He flashes a devilish grin. “I’m not.”

I swallow, awaiting my next order.

“Kneel,” he commands, seemingly reading my mind.

I fall to my knees.

Slowly, so fucking slowly, he undoes the laces to his trousers, and his cock springs free. Hard, solid, wanting. He brushes the tip against the seam of my lips. My mouth remains closed until he tells me otherwise.

“Fuck, Gwyn,” he breathes, cock heavy in his hand. “You’re so good at obeying.”

His praise makes me smile, and he traces the upward curve of my lips with his thumb, then with his cock.

“Stick out your tongue.”

I do.

He slaps the head of his cock against it.

I squirm in delight.

He pulls back. “Okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, spit on it.”

It’s such a crude command, but one I’m all too eager to do. He smears my saliva all over his length, pumping himself.

“This is what I looked like earlier,” he grunts, hand sliding up and down his shaft, “as I envisioned my cock buried in your throat and your pretty little face red and streaked with tears from gagging on me.” He pumps faster. “Do you like the sound of that, Gwyn? Do you want to be ruined by me?”

“Yes,” I beg. “I want to be ruined by you.”

“Open your mouth.”

The moment his cock touches my tongue, I whimper. He feeds me inch after inch until his base is flush with my face.

“Fuck.” He pulls himself all the way out. “I need a sec⁠—”

He’s afraid he’s going to come. I know it.

I catch his cock in my hand and begin moving it up and down his shaft, exactly the way he did it earlier. Just enough to keep him right where he wants to be, on the edge of bursting.

“Yes, fuck, yes, just like that.” He exhales. “You’re doing so well.”

I hold his gaze and drag my tongue from base to head and press a kiss to the tip.

When I’m confident he’s not as close to the edge as he was before, I relax my jaw, making my mouth as soft and wide as I can manage.

And then I wait for him to ruin me.