Page 136 of Love By Design

“What if I take you up to a playroom and strip you naked? Impale you with my cock while I torment the memory of those bruises on the insides of your thighs?” Marshall whispered, breath hot against my ear. “What if westartwith that?”

I was nothing more than need. “Yes, Sir.”

“That’s enough wine then.”

We left our glasses on the table, and I followed Marshall into the club. The music was louder, bass thumping in time with the rapid-fire beat of my heart. The only steady thing around me was Marshall’s hand curled around mine. He led me to the downstairs playroom where we’d first made each other’s acquaintance in this new way that had so quickly become familiar, then held out his arm.

I walked around to the front of him, almost on display like a woman at a ball, and Marshall eyed me with a dark and primal sort of intent. He sat down on the couch and pulled his cock out of his pants. He was hard. He was hard, and I wanted to get onto my knees and suck him.

“What, Silas?” he asked, stroking himself from root to tip.

Precum pearled against his slit and with a quick swipe of his fingers, it was gone.

“Just want you, Sir,” I managed.

“Rightly so.” He sucked his tongue across the front of his teeth. “Go find lube and a pair of nipple clamps. Get a pair of wrist cuffs while you’re at it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The downstairs playroom wasn’t nearly as well-equipped as the upstairs space, and I quickly realized I’d have to leave him to get the things he’d demanded. He didn’t seem bothered atthe prospect, sprawled out on the couch with his dick in his hand like a king with his scepter.

I imagined he was that—to me.

I walked quickly upstairs, sliding into the first playroom. The door was cracked open, but there were people inside. Lincoln, I realized, with Riot there on his knees with a mouthful of cock again. Clearly Lincoln’s work was only an issue when it suited him. Neither of them saw me, Lincoln lost to the pleasure of the other man’s mouth, so I grabbed what I needed from the armoire against the wall and made my way back downstairs to Marshall.

He looked the same as I’d left him, and I went to my knees at his feet, all the things he’d asked for clutched in my sweaty hands.

“You’re trembling,” he said, taking everything and setting it down beside him.

“I always do.”

“I know. I like it. Now take off your clothes.”

I managed to strip naked while still on my knees, resting my hands on the tops of my thighs, palms up after I’d finished the task. Marshall surveyed me like I was chattel, and the casualness of his perusal had my cock pulsing like mad against my stomach.

“Definitely worth celebrating,” Marshall said, almost under his breath.

He held open one of the cuffs and I set my wrist in it. Carefully—as always—he closed the clasp around my wrist and again kissed the delicate place where the leather met my skin. I shivered, arousal coursing through my fingers as he repeated the motion with my other wrist.

“Over your head,” he said next, and I raised my arms, which gave him clear access to my chest.

Marshall leaned over, resting his elbows on his thighs so he could toy with my nipples until I moaned and gasped his name.My nipples were hard, erect, and he attached the clamps to each one with a brutal efficiency. I managed another gasp when he tugged the connecting chain between them, and his smile was absolutely feral.

Hooking his finger under the chain, he lifted it up, tugging at my nipples to the point of discomfort. I realized too late what he wanted, and he grabbed my chin with this other hand, pulling my mouth open and easing the chain between my teeth. My chin quivered, every tremble like a thousand pounds of pressure on my chest.

“Perfect,” Marshall mused, beckoning me to my feet, then onto his lap.

I turned so my back was to his chest again and straddled him…somewhat awkwardly not being able to see. His cock was slick with lube, poking against my backside, and then he reached up and bent my arms back, dragging my joined wrists together behind his head. I’d never felt so exposed, my muscles tense from the predicament bondage he’d managed to put me in without even a foot of rope in sight.

My lashes fluttered, and a slick finger eased into me, turning and pressing against my prostate. I tried to cry out, the sound muffled by the chain between my teeth. Marshall hummed, sounding pleased, then slowly fucked my hole with his finger until I writhed on his lap as much as the bondage would allow.

To my relief, he replaced his finger with his cock, and I sank down onto his lap, impaled as he’d always planned. Marshall eased me all the way down around him, curling his hands over the still dark bruising on the fronts of my thighs. He spread my legs a little bit wider, fingers pressing against the marks from earlier in the week.

“Ride me,” he whispered into my ear, grasping the smallest sliver of flesh between his fingernails and pinching down on me.

Hard.

I jerked on his lap, pain lancing up my thigh, through my nipples. The muscles in my arms were taut, stretched behind him, and then he pinched another spot, then one on both sides, and I couldn’t stop myself from shaking on his lap. The pain was fucking acute and all over at once. Marshall groaned low and deep in my ear, then slapped the inside of my thigh hard, the biting sting of the impact a warning.