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MARISELA

DAY ONE

I ’d tried the locks, all the doors and windows, even the hidden latches in the walls.

And he’d watched me do it with that smug look on his face that told me what I already knew.

I was wasting my time. He’d turned my home into my prison.

A sentence compounded by the fact I had an insufferable bunkmate, who was way too happy to be standing on the same side of the bars as me.

“Where’s the staff?” I questioned.

“I gave them all the week off,” Adrian said from where he was leaning against the doorframe, staring in my direction. “You look tense, little lamb. How about I run you a hot bath?”

I turned to glare at him, shifting my weight onto one leg to alleviate some of the throbbing. “Sure, and why don’t you toss a toaster inside while you’re at it? ”

“If you wanted some aftershocks, all you had to do was say the word.”

He hadn’t even finished speaking before he was stalking forward, pinning me to the closest surface and dropping to his knees in front of me.

One hand pushing the hem of my nightgown higher on my waist while the other parted my lips.

And then he was on me. Licking and sucking.

Spreading his tongue wide and curling the tip.

The sensations as familiar as they were foreign.

Like a memory I wasn’t sure was mine anymore.

I didn’t know if I could come like this.

But it felt good, even as my thigh ached and my muscles tensed.

I grabbed on to his hair, soft and thick and just long enough to steer his face where I wanted it, and where I wanted it was everywhere.

All at once. As I continued to grind myself against the bridge of his nose.

But it wasn’t until he started groaning, whispering all the dirty things he wanted to do to me, vibrations traveling from somewhere deep in his chest to my clit, causing my toes to curl and my pussy to clench, that I finally relinquished control.

Allowing Adrian to fuck me with his tongue and mouth and face and fingers.

He leaned forward, squeezing his arms between my thighs and bracing his palms on the wall behind me as he draped each of my legs over a shoulder until my feet were no longer touching the floor.

I felt a different kind of warmth trickling across my skin and catching on my nightgown.

Blood coating my fingers and the chair rail I was using for leverage after I’d reached down and realized I’d popped a stitch.

The hint of copper in the air—the extra bite of pain—only added to the pleasure, though, as my body twisted and contorted.

Thrummed and pulsed. Adrian’s tongue now spearing itself inside me as his thumb stretched over my pubic bone to rub against my clit.

His mouth and arm working in tandem, trembling and aching like the tension building in my lower stomach.

The sounds of him grunting and the feel of him straining were just as much of a turn-on as everything else he was doing to me. To the point I was no longer in a rush to come. Not when I could watch him lap at my pussy instead.

I looked down. Enjoying the way determination had sweat coating his hair and stress knitting his brow. And he grinned against me before biting hard enough on my clit to have me spasming and cursing at the same time. My orgasm hitting me harder than anything I’d experienced before.

“What the hell was that…” I said more to myself than to Adrian, my palms squeaking as they slowly slid back down the walls.

He answered anyway. “That was me getting on my knees and asking you to marry me, princess. It was also you screaming yes.”

Then he was on his feet, my legs still too gelatinous to move and my brain too addled to argue with him, as he scooped me up into his arms and carried me out of the room.