Page 31 of Cruel Pawn (Cruel Duet #1)

His neck tensed, all the tendons standing up as every muscle in his face tightened, pleasure filling the air with his moans, every deep, groaning noise wrecking me.

My stare fixed on the hearts inked around where I sliced his throat, and as my head floated, heat clawing up my chest as another release gathered in my lower belly, I could have sworn there was a bite mark tattooed on his shoulder where I sank my teeth in before he left.

His hands left my throat right as black spots began to crowd my vision, and the rattle of chains came from above me, but I didn’t care enough to see what he was doing.

The world spun, disorienting, the dizziness and my lack of care, lack of stress so freeing.

I felt good. So good it would be easy to become addicted to this feeling.

Cool air brushed over my back, bringing me out of my mind long enough to notice Arden had freed my hands from the headboard, loosening the chains enough for him to flip our positions.

Now, he stretched out beneath me like a work of art, covered in deceptively lithe muscle and bright tattoos.

His eyes were a beacon of devotion and obsession. I wondered if mine looked the same.

“Ride me, my opera,” he panted, stroking the tip of his cock through my slick before he glided back inside, the first few inches fucking heaven. And when his hands alighted on my hips, encouraging me to sink deeper, I was convinced I’d never felt anything as good as this.

“Take me,” he begged in a breathless moan. “You own me. Every last part, every broken piece, every desperate beat of my heart.”

I arched over him to steal a kiss, not particularly gentle about it, licking the blood that beaded from his lip and delighted when he shuddered under me.

Oh yeah, my captor had a blood kink. I smiled, the pleasant dizziness still in me but clarity returning too.

I had Arden all to myself, at my mercy, victim to whatever I wanted to do to him.

I skimmed a light fingertip down his chest, the slow curl of a smile on my lips when goosebumps broke out wherever I touched.

“Priya,” he rasped. “Please.”

I planted my hands on his chest over adorably cute portraits of kittens in knitted bonnets inside lilac scalloped frames, and I ground my pussy down onto him.

The sight of Arden’s eyes crossing hit my blood stream like a drug.

And fuck, his cock felt incredible, but the sight of him coming undone beneath me might have been better.

I shifted my angle with each rolling thrust, searching, hunting, there—

“Oh fuck,” I groaned, my eyelids dropping to half-mast. I watched his face through the slits as his skin flushed, his mouth parted, neck arching again.

I kinda wanted to sink my teeth into the right side and see if he inked that permanently on his body, too.

I grabbed one hand from my hip and brought it to my throat, slamming my ass down on him as I climbed higher, pleasure coiling, coiling.

Arden obeyed my silent command and squeezed my throat, his stare roving over my body as if he couldn’t decide what part of me to fixate on.

“My opera,” he moaned, the sound so close to a whine. It was a heady sound. I fucked him harder, faster, and he dug his fingernails into the sides of my neck as a stream of pleading, breathless noises fell from him. “I’m yours, you’re mine, for always and ever.”

I smiled, kissing him hard, convinced I’d melted my captor’s mind because he meant to say forever and always.

“You’re mine,” I agreed, my hips churning over him now, release tightening my muscles, hovering just out of reach.

“You don’t get to leave again. You don’t get to escape me. Not fucking ever.”

It was as close as I’d ever get to admitting that I hated him leaving me alone, not knowing when he’d be back.

He shook his head, his eyes screwed shut, black hair an artful mess on the pillows. “Never.”

“This,” I breathed, running my thumb over the scar on his throat, “means you’re mine. Marked as all fucking mine. No one can ever make you feel this way; no one will ever be as obsessed with you as I am.”

With a shuddering sigh, he threw his head back, and his cock went wild inside me, coming with violent relief.

When I tightened my pussy around him, his groan was guttural.

When I followed him over the edge, his hand fell from my throat and he clutched me close, his affection desperate, demanding. I fucking loved it.

Release wrung me out until I slumped over his chest, groaning, our bodies glued together.

I felt every ragged pant from his lungs.

He must have felt me shudder with aftershocks.

For a long minute, I just breathed, hot and satisfied and…

serene. But my hips made languid circles, lazily prolonging my pleasure.

“Priya,” he murmured in protest as I peeled my sweaty chest from his, stroking up both arms until my fingers encircled his wrists.

“Do you know the best thing about being a woman?” I asked offhandedly.

My poor captor’s brain had melted, so he only blinked up at me with those big, brown eyes. His expression was so soft, the look in his eyes… loving.

“Multiple orgasms, and very short recovery time.”

Those pretty eyes widened as he realised he was still inside me, and I was far from done. As he registered the wicked smile on my face, and the slow roll of my hips. As he felt my hands tighten around his wrists, pinning them above his head.

“Priya—” he began.

“One more.” I slammed my hips down, taking him harder. “Give me one more.”