Page 62 of Tangwystle

“Fold them,” he said.

I folded his clothes, placing them in the wooden armoire.

“Take it off,” he commanded of the pinafore.

I untied the strings, pulling the ruffled edges of the sleeves off. I folded it too, placing it on the chair, and Baz said nothing. It didn’t have a spot in the bedroom because it belonged on the hook in the kitchen.

“Pull the sheets off.”

I complied, pulling the satin duvet back until only the flat sheet I’d fitted on this morning remained.

He motioned for me to get on the bed. “On your back.”

Heart hammering and my shoulders shivering, I crawled onto the middle of the bed. The cool air whisked over my skin as I stared up at the ceiling.

Baz stepped to the end of the bed. The frame was a great, thick piece of wood, and unless he crawled over the end of the bed, it blocked him slightly. But he made no move to get into the bed.

He took an ankle, spreading me out, and inspected every inch of me. My nipples hardened painfully, my pussy throbbing for something.

He leaned over the bed, his fingers running up my inner thigh. Then he pushed my legs even farther apart, my hips bucking in response.

And then bucked again when his tongue licked the length of my folds.

“How often this cunt has taunted me.”

He took his time, his tongue running up and down. Then he spread my folds, his tongue spearing inside me.

When I squirmed, he placed an arm over my waist, effectively barring me from moving.

At his mercy.

That’s what I’d been since I answered the front door all those weeks ago.

He sucked my clit, and I came easily.

His tongue lapped up my arousal, my eyes fluttering shut. They snapped open when he stood up and ambled around the bed.

His thick, angry cock strained. He paused at the side of the bed, his words painful. “You have no idea how badly I want your mouth on me again.”

He made a warning noise when I slid toward him on the mattress. I stopped immediately.

“I have plans for that mouth, Tangwystle, but not right now.” He fisted himself. “Right now I need your cunt.”

He crawled over my body, his elbows caging my face, his erection pressing into my thigh.

Baz kissed me, slow and thoroughly.

“It will hurt,” he admitted, a thumb tracing my bottom lip.

The tip of his cock teased my cunt. I tensed, an involuntary reaction.

“Breathe,” he reminded, not offended. His muscles strained, but he kept his words gentle as he spoke to me like a skittish horse. “Breathe,” he said again softly. His finger traced patterns along my jaw, moving up my cheek.

“Open your legs,” he instructed. I did so. “Wider.”

I spread them further, the head of his cock pressing in. My hands wove around him, and he let me hold on tight, my fingers curling in his hair. I didn’t speak, I didn’t breathe. I know because he once again demanded that I do, though he had to grind out the words, his voice hoarse.

“Fucking stars,” he uttered against my shoulder. “Fairy.”