Page 112 of Shadow Waltz
I climbed onto the bed, the sheets cool and smooth beneath my knees, and did as I was told. My cock bounced with each movement, the ache of being watched nearly as intense as the desire to be touched. Luka’s hand traced down my spine, then left me. I heard him moving, opening a drawer, the sound of leather and metal whispering through the dim air.
He returned with a length of silk rope. He drew it over my shoulders, letting the fabric drag across my skin, teasing every nerve awake. Then he bent, his breath hot at my ear. “Stay still.” His hands were quick and practiced, looping the rope around my upper arms, binding them snug against my sides, then down to my elbows. The silk tightened, but not painfully—just enough to let me feel how thoroughly I was being restrained.
He trailed more rope around my chest, framing my pecs, circling the collar at my throat. Every knot was a promise, every loop a claim. He pressed a kiss to the nape of my neck, then moved to my wrists, securing them together, leaving enough slack so I could move but not enough to escape. His fingers lingered, stroking the sensitive skin, making me shiver.
He reached for my ankles next, spreading my knees wide, tying them to the corners of the bed so I was completely exposed, ass in the air, legs trembling with need. I could feel the air on my hole, the slick drip of precome down my thigh, the heavy beat of my heart in my chest.
Luka stepped back, surveying his work. “Look at you.” His voice was velvet, wicked and proud. “So obedient. So fucking beautiful.” He ran a hand over my ass, squeezing, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. “You like this, don’t you? Being open for me. Knowing you can’t move, can’t hide.”
“Yes,” I gasped, my face burning. “I want it.”
He laughed softly, almost fond. “Good boy.” He knelt on the bed behind me, his body heat radiating across my skin. I felt his fingers ghost along the rope at my chest, tracing the patterns, then down to the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. He leaned in, his mouth following, pressing open-mouthed kisses over every inch of exposed flesh—my ass, the backs of my knees, the arch of my foot. His beard scratched, the sensation sharp and grounding.
He licked a line up my thigh, teeth grazing, then paused to bite gently at the meat of my ass. I moaned, pressing back helplessly into his mouth, my cock leaking onto the sheets beneath me. Luka’s hands roamed everywhere—over the knots of rope, along the swell of my ass, cupping my balls, squeezing until I whimpered.
He pressed a lubed finger to my entrance, circling, not entering, just teasing. The anticipation built until it was almost unbearable, every muscle in my body straining against the restraints. Luka seemed to savor it—his fingers slick and slow, coaxing my hole open just enough to make me desperate for more.
“Do you know how good you look like this?” he murmured, voice rough with want. “Tied up, exposed, dripping for me. I could spend hours just looking at you.”
He pressed another kiss to the small of my back, tongue tracing a lazy circle around the edge of a knot. Then he shifted, sliding a finger inside me, slow and careful. I groaned, rocking back as much as the ropes allowed, my body greedy for every inch.
Luka reached beneath me, wrapping his big, rough hand around my cock. He stroked me with maddening patience, thumb circling the head, spreading the slick everywhere. His other hand pressed another finger inside me, scissoring, stretching, never quite giving me what I wanted.
He leaned in, his chest pressed to my back, cock hard and hot against my thigh. “Not yet,” he whispered. “I want you desperate for it. I want you begging.”
His words made my whole body flush, my hips twitching helplessly. I could feel the ropes holding me, the heat of his body, the weight of the collar at my throat—a perfect cage, a perfect claim.
He spent long minutes just like that—stroking, teasing, biting. He let his hands wander, cupping my balls, slapping my ass, sliding his tongue over my hole and making me sob for it. Every nerve ending was alive, every breath a plea.
I was bound, trembling, and desperate—my skin marked by Luka’s mouth, my hole aching from the teasing stretch of his tongue and fingers, the rope biting deliciously at my wrists and thighs. Sweat slid down my chest, tickling its way past the ridges of muscle and pooling in the hollow at the base of my throat. My vision swam with lust and the raw ache of being denied. Every inch of me was alive.
Suddenly, Luka’s hands vanished. For a heartbeat, I was left trembling in anticipation, the heat of his body gone. I lifted myhead, confusion blooming in my chest, only to find him circling around the bed. He walked with a lazy arrogance, every line of his body carved by shadow and low light, cock flushed and leaking, swinging with each step.
He dragged a heavy chair across the floor, positioning it just a few feet from where I knelt bound and open, my arms and knees spread wide. He settled into the seat like a king accepting tribute, legs spread, cock standing thick and proud against his belly, head flushed dark, veins stark against the pale skin.
Luka’s eyes never left me. He stroked himself with slow, deliberate movements, thumb sliding over the slick at the tip, palm wrapped tight around the base. I could see every inch—the thick girth, the way it throbbed in his hand, the shine of precome as it caught the light. His other hand cupped his balls, squeezing, massaging, drawing out a low, satisfied moan. I watched, helpless and hungry, my cock straining against the ropes, twitching every time he let out another sound.
He took his time, making a show of it. Luka was always in control, even when he surrendered to pleasure. He let his head tip back for a moment, throat exposed, jaw tight, muscles flexing across his chest and shoulders. His abs rippled as he pumped his fist, slow and cruel, denying himself as much as me. I saw the wetness bead at the crown, watched it drip down the length, glistening against the dark hair at his groin.
“You want this, Ash?” Luka’s voice was rough, a low growl threaded with promise. “Want to watch me come, knowing you can’t touch yourself, can’t do a thing about it?”
“Yes,” I whispered, throat tight. My voice shook. “Please—please let me see.”
He smirked, stroking harder, faster for a moment, then slowing to a crawl, tormenting us both. The room was silent but for the wet slap of skin on skin, the sound of my ragged breathing. Luka let his eyes drift down my body, tracing theway I shuddered with need, cock leaking, thighs trembling. He looked like he was drinking it in—my helplessness, my surrender, the fact that I belonged to him completely.
He shifted in his chair, rolling his hips, showing off the thick curve of his cock, the heavy swing of his balls. “I could make you wait all night,” he murmured, voice full of wicked pride. “I could leave you here—tied, dripping, aching for it—and never let you come. Would you beg for me, Ash? Would you give me every last bit of your pride?”
I bit my lip, unable to answer. The need in my body was a living thing, a hunger that scraped me raw. I would have done anything. Anything.
But Luka had other plans. He reached for a small remote at the edge of the bed, pressing a button. The sound of a door opening behind me made my head snap up. I twisted as much as the ropes would allow, chest heaving, heart thudding in my ears.
Dmitri and Troy stepped into the room—barefoot, both of them wearing nothing but tight black underwear that left nothing to the imagination. Both were hard, cocks straining the fabric, outlined and eager.
Luka didn’t look at them—his eyes stayed locked on mine, claiming, daring. “Gentlemen,” he said, voice velvet and command. “You know what to do.”
Without hesitation, Dmitri and Troy moved to Luka’s side, dropping to their knees like obedient soldiers. Troy’s lips brushed the inside of Luka’s thigh, his tongue darting out to taste the sweat, the salt, the pure heat of the man he served. Dmitri wrapped a big hand around the base of Luka’s cock, squeezing, guiding the head to his mouth.
I watched, pulse racing, as Dmitri took Luka deep, lips stretching around the thick shaft, cheeks hollowing with each slow suck. Troy licked a line up Luka’s abs, kissing the hard planes of his stomach, nipping at the sensitive skin just abovehis groin. Luka’s hand tangled in Troy’s hair, guiding him, but his gaze never left me—burning, satisfied, a king surrounded by worship and want.