Page 8

RAEKON

I drag her to her feet by the ball gag strap, the leather digging into her cheeks as she stumbles forward. Her wide green eyes lock onto mine, a mix of fear and defiance swimming in them. She’s testing me, pushing me, and I’m done pretending I don’t enjoy it.

“You think you can tease me and walk away unscathed?” I growl my voice low and rough. “You wanted to poke the bear, little flower. Consider me poked.”

Her muffled whimper vibrates through the gag, her hands gripping my forearm as I hold her steady.

She’s trembling, but I don’t miss the way her hips shift, the way her body arches slightly toward mine.

She’s scared, yes, but she’s enjoying this.

I can smell it on her, the sharp tang of arousal mingling with her fear.

I yank her closer, her body flush against mine, and lean down until my lips brush the shell of her ear. “You’ve been playing with fire, Ms. Christian. You’ve been testing me, provoking me, and now you’re going to learn what happens when you push too far.”

She whimpers again, her fingers tightening on my arm.

I can feel her heart racing, the rapid thud of it echoing in my own chest. I drag her across the room to the large, sturdy desk, yanking her around until her back is pressed against the edge.

She’s panting through her nose, her chest heaving, and I don’t miss the way her eyes dart down to the bulge in my trousers.

“You’re a clever little thing, aren’t you?” I murmur, my fingers trailing down her cheek to the buckle of the gag. “You knew exactly what you were doing, making those mistakes, grinding against me like some siren trying to lure me into the rocks.”

I yank Willow forward, her body bending over the polished surface of my desk.

Willow issues a deep moan, the sound muffled by the gag as I pull my tie loose and wrap it around her crossed wrists.

The silk slides smoothly, binding her tight, and I admire the way her shoulders tense, the way her back arches just slightly as I cinch the knot.

She doesn’t fight me—not this time. Her head tilts, her fiery hair spilling over her shoulders as she looks back at me.

Those green eyes are wide, yes, but there’s a spark in them I wasn’t expecting.

Anticipation. She’s not just playing the game; she’s enjoying it.

Good. So am I.

I drag her back to her feet, her body brushing against mine as I turn her to face me.

Her chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, and I can see the flush creeping up her neck.

She’s scared, but she’s waiting . I grip her hips, lifting her easily and setting her on the edge of the desk.

She wobbles for a moment, her balance thrown by the gag and the tie binding her wrists, but I steady her, my hands lingering on her waist.

“You always cover yourself up,” I murmur, my voice low and rough. My fingers trail down the side of her ankle-length skirt, tracing the line of buttons that run up the side. “Mocking me. Making me wonder what treasures you’re hiding. Not anymore.”

Her eyes widen further as I slide the first button free.

I’m deliberate, savoring the way her breath quickens with each one I undo.

The fabric parts, revealing the creamy skin of her thigh, and I can’t help the growl that rumbles in my chest. Her legs are perfect, smooth and soft, and the sight of them makes my cock twitch in my trousers.

My hand brushes over her skin, the warmth of her making my scales tingle. It’s better than I imagined—and I’ve imagined this a lot since she started working with me. Her body tenses, a soft whimper escaping through the gag as my fingers slide higher.

“Open for me,” I command, my voice firm but not unkind. Her thighs tighten instinctively, and I smirk. “Come on, little flower. You’ve been asking for this. Don’t stop now.”

She hesitates, her eyes searching mine, but then, slowly, she lets her legs part.

Just a little. Not enough. I press my hands against the inside of her thighs, pushing them apart until the soft pink fabric of her panties comes into view.

She whimpers again, her body trembling, but she doesn’t pull away.

“There we go,” I murmur, my voice thick with approval. “That’s my good girl.”

I slide my hands along her inner thighs, my eyes locked on the translucent lace barely concealing her. A butterfly design. Of course. Even her panties are a contradiction—demure yet daring, just like her. I let out a low rumble of approval.

“Look at what you’re hiding under your schoolmarm skirt,” I say, my voice thick with admiration. My thumb brushes over the damp fabric, and her legs snap shut reflexively. I smack her thigh, the sharp sound echoing in the room. “Open. You are permitted no secrets from me.”

Her eyes, wide and pleading, scream at me to touch her again.

But I’m not in the mood to rush. I unhook the skirt and slide it down her legs, letting it pool on the floor.

She wobbles as I help her step out of it, her balance thrown by the gag and her bound wrists.

I spin her around, and my breath catches.

A g- string. Of course it is. The thin ribbon cuts between her perfect ass cheeks, framing her in a way that makes my cock ache.

I grab the ribbon, pulling it aside to reveal her glistening pussy and tight, untouched asshole.

“Perfection,” I mutter, my voice strained.

Her eyes are half-lidded now, her pupils blown with lust. I slide the panties down her legs, letting her step out of them, and then lift her back onto the desk.

Her pussy is already swollen, her lips parted and glistening. I use my fingers to spread her wider, and she moans deeply, the sound muffled but unmistakable. Her clit quivers, begging for attention, but I’m not ready to give it to her yet. Not yet.

My fingers trace her outer lips, the soft skin slick with her arousal. I press against her inner lips, my thumbs brushing the hood of her clit but never quite touching it. She whimpers, her hips twitching, but I hold her still with a firm grip.

“Patience,” I command, my voice low and commanding. My fingers slide down to her entrance, circling but not penetrating. “You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted me to see you like this. To feel you like this.”

Her response is a desperate moan, her body trembling as I bring her to the edge and then pull back. Again and again, I tease her, my touch relentless but never enough. Her hips buck, trying to chase my fingers, but I hold her down, my strength too much for her to fight.

“Not yet,” I murmur, my breath hot against her ear. “You’ll come when I say you can. Not a moment before.”

Her muffled whimpers are music to my ears, her body writhing under my touch but unable to find release. She’s mine now, completely and utterly, and I’m not ready to let her go. Not yet.

Willow’s green eyes lock onto mine, wide and glistening, her chest heaving as she teeters on the edge of desperation.

Her body trembles, her arousal thick in the air, and I can see it— the moment she realizes I’m done playing.

Her muffled squeal escapes the ball gag, a sound that’s equal parts fear and delight, and it sends a jolt straight to my cock.

I grab her by the hips, my hands nearly spanning her entire waist, and lift her effortlessly into the air. Her legs flail for a moment before I settle them over my shoulders, her pussy now pressed against my face. Her gasp is muffled but unmistakable, her thighs tensing around me as I lean in.

“I won’t let you fall, my little flower,” I murmur against her damp heat, my voice low and reassuring.

Her scent is intoxicating, sweet and musky, and I can’t resist diving in.

My tongue flicks over her slick folds, teasing her entrance before moving to her clit.

She jerks in my grasp, a high-pitched whine escaping the gag, and I tighten my hold, keeping her steady.

I carry her to the glass wall, her back pressing against the cool surface as I continue to devour her.

The city lights sparkle behind her, a backdrop to her trembling form, and I admire the sight.

My tongue works her clit in slow, deliberate circles, and her body arches, her hands tugging at the silk tie binding her wrists.

She’s close—I can feel it in the way her pussy clenches around nothing, in the way her thighs squeeze my shoulders.

Her muffled cries grow more frantic, and I pull back just enough to whisper against her skin. “Cum for me, Willow.”

She does, her body convulsing as she squirts all over my face, her juices glazing my scales.

I don’t stop. My tongue, prehensile and ridged, extends further than she expects, sliding deep inside her and curling against her walls.

Her eyes widen, a strangled scream escaping the gag, and I watch her face as I fuck her with it, her expression a mix of shock and overwhelming pleasure.

When I finally lower her to the ground, her legs buckle, and I catch her by the nipples, pinching them firmly to keep her upright. Her head lolls, her eyes hazy, and I give her a moment to catch her breath before speaking.

“You’re going to take my cock now, Ms. Christian.”

She nods rapidly, her muffled “Yes, Sir” barely intelligible around the gag but clear in her eager expression. Her body is still trembling, but there’s no hesitation in her now. She’s ready—and so am I.

I sit her back on the desk, her bare ass now pressed against the cool surface.

The puddle she left behind earlier glistens under the office lights, and I chuckle.

“Look at the mess you’ve made, Ms. Christian,” I say, my voice dripping with mock disapproval.

“What a dirty-minded little thing you are.”

My fingers trail up her stomach, brushing the fabric of her high-collared blouse. I frown, my claws catching on the stiff material. “You know, Willow,” I muse, my tone casual as if we’re discussing the weather, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Her eyes dart to mine, wide and curious behind the ball gag. I keep one hand busy between her legs, my fingers teasing her pussy to keep her squirming. My other hand toys with the lapel of her blouse, my claws scraping lightly against the fabric.

“I hate the way you fucking dress,” I growl.

Without warning, I grip the front of her blouse and rip it clean off her body, the buttons scattering across the desk and floor like tiny, frightened creatures.

She screams behind the gag, her body jerking in shock, and I grab her by the throat, holding her steady.

“Let me make myself perfectly clear,” I say, my voice a low rumble that vibrates through her skin.

“I’m going home with you tonight. And I’m going to destroy every garment you own.

Every fucking hideous blouse, every wretched skirt, every pair of panties that does nothing to highlight this glorious body of yours. ”

Her eyes widen, a muffled whimper escaping the gag.

I lean in closer, my breath hot against her ear.

“Oh yes,” I murmur, my fingers still working her pussy, keeping her on edge.

“Maybe you should just come to work naked. But no… that’s not practical, is it?

So instead, I’ll take you shopping. We’ll pick out clothes that properly accentuate your many… assets.”

Her chest heaves as I let go of her throat, my hands moving to her bra.

I tear it off with one swift motion, the sound of snapping fabric filling the room.

Her magnificent breasts are finally free, their softness and weight a sight to behold.

I bury my face between them, my tongue flicking over her stiff nipples as she moans behind the gag.

“Beautiful,” I murmur against her skin, my claws lightly tracing the curve of her breasts. “But you’ll learn to dress the part, my little flower. You’ll learn to be everything I want you to be.”

Her body trembles, her arousal thick in the air, and I know she’s as desperate for me as I am for her. But this isn’t over. Not yet.