Please note that this content is sexually explicit. We recommend that you should not read this content if you are offended by sexually explicit material.
His eyes are cold and he tosses his head.
“Get on the bed.”
Her heart leaps. So he will give her what she wants, after all? She kicks off her shoes and scrambles onto the bed. Her whole body is thrumming with anticipation. He returns with something metal in his hands — what’s that? Not handcuffs…He pushes her against the headboard and she’s acutely aware of how much stronger his is than her. How much he could hurt her, if he wanted. To her surprise, the thought makes her flush with heat. He closes one of the manacles around her wrist and she’s shocked by the cold metal on her skin. It’s an exciting contrast to how hot she’s feeling. He loops the chain through the bars and binds the other wrist, and she enjoys the cold a second time. Then he begins unbuttoning her shirt and undoes the clasp between her breasts. Their fresh, round loveliness!
He roughly pulls off her pants, making her gasp. She lies there, waiting for him, but his face shows nothing. There is a pause. Holding her gaze, his hand slowly reaches down and rubs her through her underpants. The cotton is moist and smells of honey. His eyes are as cold as the metal and she holds her breath. She could come right there. But then he stops. She looks up at him. He’s taking off his shirt and her breathing becomes heavy. He flicks his belt open, steps out of his pants and stands before her in those tight boxer shorts, barely containing him. The damned chain! She tries to stroke his leg with her foot, but he steps away.
His eyes are cold as, slowly, he moves a finger under the waistband of his shorts. She watches intently as he circles the tip and comes away wet. He puts the finger in his mouth, watching her. Sanne almost swoons. His eyes are cold. He hooks a thumb into his shorts, pulling them down at the front. Then, slowly, he begins to stroke himself, with his fingertips at first. He circles the tip with the flat of his palm, a little harder each time. And then long strokes with his whole hand, languidly. Sanne’s drunk on the thought of having him inside her, stroking her just like that. She pleads with him, but Meeldraad’s face only becomes darker. His strokes become harder, more intent, and a sob catches in Sanne’s throat. She tries to get up, to touch him, but the chain…
She can’t even take off her underpants. She tenses against the mattress, watching him, and the sob spills out of her. Meeldraad scowls as his hand moves. Finally he steps towards the bed. Sanne lies down on her back, hoping, and he kneels over her, straddling her hips. His face is flushed. He sucks a breath through his teeth and falls forward onto one arm, stares hard into her eyes, menacing.
‘No one!’ he growls through clenched teeth. ‘No one will possess you, understand!’
Holding her gaze, he covers her breasts with nectar.
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