Court of Midnight - Lucinda Dark Page 0,71

clenching against his rock hard thighs.

He thrust into my mouth again and again, sometimes moving slow and sometimes moving fast. I relished in it all, feeling both submissive and powerful all at once. Until finally, he'd had enough. Sorrell's hand contracted at the back of my skull, his fingers sinking into my hair and then curling as he ripped me away.

"That's enough," he said through gritted teeth. A moment later, I found myself being lifted into his strong arms and thrown back onto the mattress. "Spread your legs," he ordered as he shucked his pants the rest of the way off and then toed off his boots.

I moved further up the bed, feeling the leaking wetness of my arousal on the inside of my thighs. I grinned back at him, feeling dangerous and playful.

"What if I don't?" I shot back.

Sorrell's eyes flashed—glowing in the dark room—a brilliant blue that was so light it was almost white. "You will regret not following my commands, Changeling." His voice lowered and that, too, left me feeling mischievous.

I walked backwards on my hands and feet until I reached the headboard.

"Spread your legs, Cressida," he repeated as he crawled onto the end of the bed. "Or I'll make you."

I grinned. "Then make me," I challenged.

No sooner had the words left my lips than a shriek followed it as Sorrell dove on top of me. His hands found my wrists and brought them together, pinning them in one of his palms. With his free hand, he reached down, finding the hem of my nightgown, and ripped it up my thighs.

"Tell me something, Changeling," he panted as he leaned close. I closed my eyes and arched into his touch as I felt his fingers slipping up my thighs. "Do you like pain?"

It took me a moment to fully comprehend his question. My eyes opened once more. "Pain?" I asked.

Sorrell released my hands and reached for the neckline of my nightgown, grabbing it and ripping it straight down the middle. The sound of tearing fabric reached me just before the feeling of the material pulling taut over my skin only to be released once more did. He quickly divested me and began tearing it even more—ripping it into strips.

"Yes," he said. "Pain. Specifically, the erotic kind."

I was too consumed by his actions—confused and also a little curious—as he used the torn strips of fabric to quickly bring my hands together and tie them. He then anchored them to the headboard, fitting my hands inside slots I hadn't seen before and then tying me there as well.

"I've never really experienced it, I guess..." I said absently.

"Would you like to?" he asked, trailing his hands down my now naked sides. I trembled beneath him as air washed over my skin.

"I-I don't know," I confessed.

Sorrell moved over me, his hands pushing between my knees as he forced my legs up and out. "Do you trust me?" he asked, leaning close. His warm breath feathered over the skin of my stomach.

"Y-yes?"

"Are you asking or stating?" he clarified.

"Stating?"

"You don't sound sure," he said.

I huffed out a breath. "I'm not sure," I admitted testily. Here we were, naked and pressed against one another in his bed—not something I'd ever really seen happening—and I felt my pussy pulse, but all he was doing was asking me questions. Questions I didn't understand. "I don't know how pain can feel good," I told him.

Sorrell pressed down on top of me, his shaft lining up with my core, but instead of slipping it inside, he merely let the underside rub against me—between my folds and over my clit. I clenched, tightening, and felt empty inside. When he chuckled, the sound vibrated against my nipples, making me moan in humiliating wanton desire.

What the hell was he thinking? I wondered even as I shifted my hips to rub against him more insistently.

"Patience, Cressida," he said, kissing the tip of my nose. "If you say yes, I promise you won't regret it. Now, answer me correctly this time, do you trust me?"

I stared up into his ice blue eyes for a moment, biting down on my lower lip before I jerked my head in a nod. "Yes," I breathed.

He smiled, a radiant and also disturbingly evil look crossing his face. "Good," he said, slipping back until he was almost completely off of me. With his wide, strong hands, he grabbed me around my hips, lifted, and flipped me as if I were no more than a sack of laundry.

The bindings around