Page 19

CHAPTER 19

CLARICE

T he wineglass trembles in my hand as I set it down, the vibrations still echoing through my body. Across the table, Shomun’s lips twitch in that infuriating way they do when he’s trying not to smirk. I glare at him, my face burning, and shift again in my seat. The chastity belt digs into my hips, and the plugs— the damn plugs —hum faintly, a constant reminder of his control.

“You’re impossible,” I hiss, my voice low enough that the other diners won’t hear. The candlelight flickers between us, casting shadows on his face, but I don’t need the light to see him. I’ve memorized every detail, every shift of his expression, the way his eyes soften when he’s amused and sharpen when he’s focused. Right now, they’re somewhere in between.

“Impossible?” He leans forward, his tailored suit stretching over his broad shoulders. The fabric clings to him like a second skin, and I hate how much I want to rip it off him. “You’re the one who agreed to this.”

“Agreed? Agreed ?” My voice rises slightly, and I clamp my mouth shut, glancing around the restaurant. No one’s paying attention, but I still feel exposed, like the entire world can see what’s happening under my dress. “You didn’t exactly give me a choice.”

“I never force you, Claire.” His tone shifts, growing serious, and I freeze. Beneath the teasing, there’s a thread of steel, a reminder that no matter how much he pushes me, he’d stop if I ever truly asked. It’s that thought that makes my stomach tighten, my breath catch.

“I know,” I mutter, picking up my fork and poking at the remains of my coq au vin. The food is delicious, but I can barely taste it now, my focus entirely on him. “But you’re still a monster.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” He reaches across the table, his fingers brushing against mine. Even through the gloves he wears to hide his scales, the touch sends a shiver up my spine. “Finish your meal. We’re not done yet.”

“Not done?” I arch a brow, mimicking his earlier expression. “What more could you possibly have planned?”

He doesn’t answer, but the look in his eyes is enough to make my cheeks flush. I glance down at my plate, willing myself to finish eating, but every bite feels like it’s coated with anticipation. The plugs shift inside me, and I bite my lip, forcing myself to stay quiet.

Across the table, Shomun watches me, his gaze heavy, and I know he’s cataloging every reaction, every twitch, every breath. He always does. It’s maddening. It’s intoxicating.

“You’re staring,” I say, my voice a little too high.

“You’re beautiful,” he replies, and the sincerity in his tone makes my chest tighten. I look away, my fork clinking against the plate, and he chuckles.

“Don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re trying to sweet-talk me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He signals for the check, his movements deliberate, and I feel the weight of his attention like a physical touch. When the waiter leaves, he stands, offering me his arm.

“Let’s go.”

I take his arm, my fingers curling around the hard muscle beneath his sleeve. The restaurant buzzes around us, the clink of glasses and murmur of conversation fading into the background as we make our way to the door. Outside, the night air is cool, but it does nothing to soothe the heat building inside me.

“Where are we going?” I ask as he helps me into the car.

He doesn’t answer, but the smirk he gives me tells me everything I need to know.

The door to Simon’s corner office clicks shut behind us, the sound echoing in the vast, dimly lit space. My heart races as he leads me toward the master bedroom, his grip on my wrist firm but not painful. He doesn’t need to pull me; I’d follow him anywhere, even if I pretend to resist.

“Strip,” he commands, his voice low and smooth, like velvet wrapped around steel.

I hesitate for a split second, just long enough to watch his eyes darken with anticipation. Then I move, letting my hands slide up my sides in a slow, deliberate motion. My dress clings to me as I peel it off, revealing the lingerie he insisted I wear earlier. The fabric pools at my feet, and I step out of it, my movements calculated to draw his gaze.

“Good girl,” he purrs, the sound vibrating through me. I can’t help the shiver that runs down my spine.

I drop to my knees, pressing my face against his leg. The fabric of his trousers is smooth against my skin, the hard muscle beneath. “Please, Sir,” I whisper, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Please make me cum.”

My hands clutch at his thigh, and I nuzzle against the bulge in his pants. He groans, the sound low and feral, and I feel a thrill of satisfaction that I’ve affected him this much.

“Maybe,” he says, his voice teasing.

I pout, pressing my lips together in a way I know drives him wild. “You’re cruel.”

“And you’re impatient.” He steps back, pulling me to my feet. “Looks like you need some discipline.”

He undoes the chastity belt with practiced ease, the click of the lock making my breath hitch. When the belt falls away, I feel strangely exposed, vulnerable in a way that only he can make me. He removes the plugs next, his fingers brushing against me in a way that makes me squirm.

“Stop that,” he growls, smacking my breast lightly. The sting is just enough to make me gasp. “You’ll cum when I say you can.”

I nod, biting my lip to keep from begging. He grabs a coil of silk rope from the bedside table, the material smooth and cool against my skin as he begins to bind me. The ropes wrap around my body, pulling my arms behind my back and pressing my breasts together. I can feel every twist and knot as he works, his hands moving with precision.

When he’s finished, I’m a mess of silk and desire, my breath coming in shallow gasps. He runs his fingers over the ropes, tracing patterns on my skin, and I shiver as his touch lingers on my nipples.

“Please,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

“Soon, my beauty,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. He kneels in front of me, his hands sliding down my thighs. “Patience.”

His tongue flicks against me, and I bite back a moan. He’s driving me to the edge, and I’m not sure how much longer I can hold on. But I know better than to push him. Not yet.

His tongue is relentless, curling and flicking against me with a precision that makes my toes curl. I’m bound, helpless, the silk ropes digging into my skin as I writhe against them. Shomun’s mouth is on me, his lips sucking at my swollen pussy lips, his tongue probing deeper, teasing that spot inside me that makes my vision blur. I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but feel.

“Shomun,” I gasp, my voice breaking as his tongue flicks against my clit. “Please, I can’t—I can’t?—”

He doesn’t stop. If anything, he doubles down, his tongue working me over with a skill that’s almost inhuman. My hips buck against his face, but he holds me down, his hands gripping my thighs as he devours me. I’m so close, so close, and when his lips close around my clit and suck, I shatter.

The orgasm hits me like a metoer strike, my body convulsing as I scream his name. I’m squirting, my juices coating his face, and he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he laps at me eagerly, his tongue catching every drop as I writhe and tremble in the ropes.

“You cum so pretty for me,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. He leans back, his face glistening. “I’m almost tempted to skip your punishment for cumming without my permission. Almost.”

I’m still coming down from the high, tiny aftershocks rippling through me as he reaches for the ball gag. I open my mouth obediently, letting him slide it between my lips and secure it behind my head. The leather straps dig into my cheeks, but I don’t mind. I’m too lost in the haze of pleasure to care.

He lights a candle, the flame flickering in the dim light of the room. I watch as he tilts it, letting the hot wax drip onto my skin. It’s not painful—not really. It’s more like a warm shower, the heat just this side of too much. I moan behind the gag, my body arching as the wax trails down my chest, my stomach, my thighs.

Shomun’s eyes are dark, his need for me written plainly on his face. He blows out the candle, the room plunging into near darkness. He’s done playing, done teasing. His need has grown too great to hold back any longer.

He grabs my hips, dragging me under his powerful body, and I squeal with delight behind the gag. The head of his cock presses against me, slick with my arousal, and I’ve never been more ready to feel him inside of me.

He’s inside me before I can even process the shift in his demeanor. One moment, he’s kneeling before me, his tongue working me into a frenzy, and the next, he’s lifting me effortlessly, his hands gripping my hips as he slides into me with a low, guttural growl. The sensation is overwhelming, his cock filling me completely, stretching me in ways that make my breath hitch and my body tremble.

“Shomun,” I gasp, my voice breaking as he begins to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, each one sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. My hands clutch at his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin, but he doesn’t seem to care. His focus is entirely on me, his eyes locked on mine as he fucks me with a precision that leaves me breathless.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice rough with desire. “All mine.”

I nod, unable to form words, my body arching against his as he picks up the pace. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, mingling with my moans and his grunts, and I’m lost in the sensation, in the way he makes me feel. Every thrust, every movement, is calculated to drive me closer to the edge, and I’m helpless to resist.

“Please,” I beg, my voice barely a whisper. “Please, let me cum.”

“Cum for me,” he commands, his voice firm but gentle, and I obey instantly, my body convulsing as the orgasm engulfs my body and soul. I scream his name, my nails raking down his back, and he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, just keeps fucking me through the waves of pleasure.

When the first orgasm subsides, he flips me onto my stomach, his hands gripping my hips as he enters me from behind. The new angle sends a fresh wave of pleasure through me, and I’m already on the edge again, my body trembling with need.

“Again,” he growls, his voice a command, and I cum instantly, my body arching against his as he fucks me harder, deeper. The pleasure is overwhelming, and I lose count of how many times he makes me cum, how many times he changes positions, each one more intense than the last.

By the time he finally cums, filling me with his hot seed, I’m a trembling, quivering mess, my body spent and sated. He collapses on top of me, his cock still buried inside me, exulting in the weight of him, the warmth of his body, as I drift off to sleep, pinned beneath him.

I don’t know how I got so lucky, how I ended up here, with him. But as I close my eyes, I know one thing for certain: I wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.