:
He shuddered but didn’t move.
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Good boy.
I palmed his cock briefly, just to feel it jump in my hand–already hard, already leaking. I gave it a slow, calculated stroke, then let go.
He groaned–barely–but I caught it.
I leaned in to whisper against the shell of his ear. “That’s one.”
He didn’t speak, but his jaw clenched.
I stepped back, letting silence fall again. “Every time you make a single sound without permission, you earn a strike,” I said softly.
“Understood?”
His eyes darted up, hazel and pleading. But he didn’t move.
Good.
I reached for the silk tie from earlier–left draped across the edge of the armchair–and walked behind him again. “Hands.”
He offered them back without hesitation and I bound his wrists together, slow and deliberate, then stepped in front of him. His breathing was shallow now, chest rising and falling in quiet anticipation.
I let my fingers drift down his chest, then knelt just enough to whisper against his skin. “You look exquisite like this. Struggling. Holding
back. Obeying.”
He shivered.
I kissed the center of his chest.
Then lower.
And lower–tracing the line of his happy trail with my mouth, brushing soft kisses from his hip to the inside of his thigh. He gasped, then bit it back–his lips tight, trembling with the effort to obey.
I lingered at his groin, teasing him with warm breath and nothing more.
I hovered over his cock, close enough to feel the heat of it, to hear the stutter in his breath.
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Chapter 33
But I didn’t take him into my mouth.
& 52 Z.
Not yet.
Instead, I exhaled warm breath over the head of his cock and watched it twitch. Another shaky inhale from him. I dragged my fingers
lightly up his thighs, then pinched–just enough to make him flinch.
“You want release,” I murmured. “But wanting isn’t enough. You have to earn it.”
I gripped his length, gave him one slow, firm stroke–and then stopped.
He groaned, low and desperate. His whole body tensed.
“That’s two.” I rose, calm as ever, and circled him again. My fingers ghosted along his ribs, his inner arms, his hips. Every place except
where he wanted.
“Use your words. You can tell me what you want,” I said.
“Please…” he rasped. “Please, Sir.”
I tilted his chin up and looked into his conflicted eyes. “You’re not begging to come. You’re begging to obey. That’s the difference.”
He nodded, eyes glossy with need.
I stepped behind him, placed my hand on the small of his back, and guided him into a kneeling bow–head to the floor, ass raised.
Perfect.
“This is how I want you,” I said. “On display. Open. Willing.”
I left him like that for a few minutes–waiting.
Trembling every time I moved around him.
Shuddering as I leaned in and pressed my arousal firmly against the curve of his ass, letting him feel how hard I was for him… and how in control I still remained.
When he finally eased under my touch and presence, I knelt beside him and finally–finally–gave him what he wanted.
One hand on his hip. One hand stroking his cock, slow and torturous. “You will not finish until I say.”
“Yes, Sir,” he gasped, trembling now.
I built him up in long, lazy strokes, until I felt the tension coil under my palm. Then I stopped again.
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20:09 Sat, Jan 31
Chapter 33
He cried out–his body shaking with denial.
“That’s three.”
I leaned in, kissed the back of his neck, and whispered, “You did so well, but you will not be coming tonight.”
He collapsed onto the floor, panting, ruined, needy–but still obedient, and that was exactly what I needed to see.
I untied his wrists gently, pulled him up into my lap, and held him close.
His cock throbbed against my thigh, but I didn’t touch it again. Instead, I stroked his hair and said, “You make me proud, Noah.
You’re learning what it means to be mine.”
He let out a broken, beautiful sound and curled into me completely.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
