He climbs up onto the bed, kneeling at my side, his breath still playing across me. I tense when I feel something cold and hard press against the skin of my stomach. “Are you still a brave girl?”

“Yes,” I exhale.

He doesn’t reply or tell me what he’s going to do. The cool, sharp object he’s leaning into my skin travels slowly upwards until it’s poised directly under my breasts. I gasp lungful after lungful of air into my lungs, trying to keep still, because I know what it is he’s got in his hand: it’s a knife. A really fucking sharp knife.

His fingertip lifts the underwire of my bra in the middle, and then in a single, clean sweep, it springs apart, freeing my breasts. He cut through my bra! This is the most exposed, terrified, exhilarated I’ve ever felt. My Mystery Man straddles me, and the material of his pants, rough, slides up against my sides. He lays the flat, cool edge of his knife against my right nipple, sending a bolt of panic through me.

“Don’t move,” he whispers. I don’t move. I am the stillest still thing ever. He leans down and touches me, his hand finally finding my breast. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he breathes. “So well behaved.” And then his mouth is on my nipple, licking and sucking, hotter than anything I’ve ever felt before. My back arches up off the bed, and he chuckles. “You want me inside you?”

“Yes.”

“You sure? Be careful what you wish for.”

I wish for death on a daily basis. I wish for pain and suffering and blood and misery upon the heads of those who took my sister. Wishing for this feels just as dangerous but somehow safer than all that at the same time. He wanted to me to own him, and despite the fact that he’s tied me up now, I still think that’s what he wants. I brace, hoping this is the right thing, and I demand, “Do it. Fuck me now. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

The knife vanishes from my skin. He shifts off the bed, and I hear him undoing his pants; slipping them off; the swish of him drawing something hard over something soft. Panic sings through me again when I hear another buckle.

“Ready?”

There’s no backing out of it now. “I’m ready.”

And he does something I hadn’t even considered. Not even for a second. He threads a loop of leather over my head—his belt—and cinches it tight. I’m in trouble now.

“Open your mouth.”

“I—”

“Do it.” The tone of his voice is firm yet gentle at the same time. He brushes a hand down the side of my face, a reassuring gesture—this is scary right now, but trust me. Trust him? I’d be fucking mad to trust him. And yet I do what he tells me to. He pushes forward and guides his cock into my mouth. I’ve never done this before, so I’m basically wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do now. He’s rock hard and tastes clean and slightly musky…and he’s massive. I can barely fit him inside my mouth. I can tell he only fits half the length of him inside before he hits the back of my throat.

“Shit!” He hisses as I suck, forming a vacuum around him. I think I got that part right. His hips rock back and he slides out of my mouth causing a wet popping noise. “Still think you want me inside you?” He knows just how big he is; he’s fucking smug about it. This is going to hurt like nothing else, but I don’t want him to realize I’m a virgin. Even Eli doesn’t know that part. I’m sure he would have charged this guy a whole lot more if he did, and that thought just turns my stomach.

“Yes,” I tell him. “Yes, I want you.”

“Good. But let’s do this first.” He fists a handful of my hair and lifts my head closer to him, and then he pushes back inside my mouth, thrusting in and out while applying a gentle pressure to the back of my head. I writhe on the bed, surprising myself with how much this turns me on. I’m floored when he tugs on the belt strap, though.

Floored.

My eyes, even in the dark, see stars. I can barely breathe with my windpipe cut off and his cock pulsing in and out of my mouth. “Stay with me, okay?” he grunts.

Fear and excitement pool in my stomach. It’s the same sort of sensation I used to get when I was a kid waiting to ride a rollercoaster, only amplified a thousand times. And a whole lot scarier. Between my legs, my pussy tightens as he works his hips back and forth, keeping just enough tension on the belt strap so that I can drag the tiniest amount of oxygen into my lungs.

He shivers as his erection turns granite-hard. If he doesn’t stop now, I think I know what will happen. But he does stop. Breathing heavily, he withdraws and couches down beside the bed, easing his fingers beneath the belt and loosening it. His face is so close to mine, I can feel the intense power of his gaze as he stares at me in the dark. I still can’t see a thing, but maybe he has better night vision than I do.

“Your mouth is perfect,” he whispers. And then he does two things that surprise me. Firstly, in the most reverent of ways, he brushes his hand against my sweat-soaked skin, sweeping my hair out of my face. And then secondly, he places the softest kiss against my forehead.

“For being such a good girl, I’m going to make you come now,” he breathes. A tremor of anticipation shimmers across my skin, and he chuckles. “You’re being a very good girl.”

He climbs up onto the bed and positions himself, hooking his arms underneath my hips, hoisting me up to meet him. The position is awkward with my ankles still bound to the bed, but all thoughts of my discomfort are forgotten when he buries his face between my legs and starts sucking on my clit again.