“Turn around,” he commands softly, and I obey, my heart racing. “I’m going to add to your outfit and give you some stockings.”
He starts by anchoring a rope around my waist, then wraps the tails around the top of my left thigh twice, so there are four rows, then creates an intricate knot on the outside of my leg and repeats the process again and again. His fingers work deftly, tightening the rope just enough to create a delicious pressure. When he reaches my ankle, he has just enough rope to tie it off in a bow, a delicate finish to the sturdy bindings.
He does it all again, from waist to ankle, on my right leg, his movements precise and practiced. As he works, the sensation of the rope sliding and tightening against my skin sends waves of heat through me, each knot and loop amplifying my arousal.
When he’s finished, he places me in front of the mirror so we can both admire his handiwork. The white rope contrasts beautifully with my skin, creating an elegant, intricate pattern that hugs the curves of my legs. The bindings feel like a second skin, both restraining and empowering. They press into me just enough to make me hyper-aware of every inch of my body, every subtle shift and movement. I feel like a work of art, crafted by Finn’s hands, every knot and loop a testament to his expertise and desire.
Finn gaze rakes over me in the mirror with a mixture of pride and lust. “You look incredible. Like a goddess.”
His words send a fresh wave of arousal through me, my heart pounding in my chest. He steps closer, his hands gently running over the ropes, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure.
“How do they feel?”
“Amazing,” I breathe, my voice trembling with desire.
He smiles with a wicked glint dancing in his eyes. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”
NINETEENFINNIAN
Taryn leaves me breathless.
She stands confidently in her elegant lingerie, her body on display for me with her legs bound in the rope stockings. The matching collar is merely decorative—it doesn’t hold the sacred meaning that signifies ownership in this community—but I’m glad she’s wearing it. The possessiveness I feel for her wouldn’t bode well for anyone requesting I share her for their enjoyment.
The way she moves, the way her skin flushes with arousal, is driving me insane. She’s a vision of sensuality and submission. She is a goddess, and I would happily worship at her altar as she deserves.
I step closer, my hands brushing over her bound thighs, tracing the lines where flesh meets nylon. Her eyes, half-lidded and filled with need, meet mine, and I see my desire reflected back at me.
“Tonight, solnyshko, you belong to me,” I growl possessively. “You are mine to bind, mine to pleasure, mine to care for. Isn’t that right?”
She bites her lower lip, the hint of a smile telling me she’s fighting the urge to let her usual strong-willed personality respond. I hold her gaze in the mirror, and though she can’t see the expectant arch of my eyebrow behind my mask, I’m certain she knows it’s there.
“I am yours to do with as you will, sire.”
A satisfied groan rumbles in my chest at hearing those words tumble from her soft lips. “Good girl. You’ve earned a reward.”
I trail my hands over her hips, across her stomach, and up to her dusky brown nipples straining against the sheer fabric, begging for my touch. She moans as I pinch the stiff buds and arches her back, offering her breasts to me.
I dip my head to kiss and suck on her neck, letting my fangs graze her skin. Her cat-like eyes widen behind her mask, and her breath hitches, but she doesn’t pull away.
Drinking from another fae was forbidden by the One True Queen, as it’s a way for magic to be temporarily transferred or siphoned, but the ritual is allowed and often practiced between mates during intimacy. I’ve never drank from another, nor have I ever wanted to. Until now.
There’s an overwhelming desire to taste her essence, to drink her down. Like she’s meant to be a part of me, and I won’t be whole until she is…
Fucking hell. Those thoughts are reckless and have no business existing, much less in a sex club. Removing the temptation, I stand up straight again and focus on Taryn and bringing her pleasure as I palm her sex over her panties, feeling the wet heat of her arousal.
Slipping my fingers beneath the lace where she’s still slick and ready for me, I circle her clit and watch her hips chase my touch in the mirror. She reaches up and locks her fingers behind my neck, making her ass grind back against my swollen cock.
I tease her entrance, feeling her muscles clench around my fingers as I slide two inside her tight pussy, then work her up to take three. She whimpers, her head falling back on my chest, giving herself over to the sensations of being filled and stretched.
I quicken my pace, my fingers moving faster. Her response is immediate, her body tensing as she nears the edge but holds back. “Would you like to come now, little sun?”
“Gods, yes,” she gasps.
“Yes, what?” I pinch her nipple with my free hand for emphasis.
She hisses in a breath that turns into a mewl of need. “Yes, sire. Please, I want to come.”
“Then let go, moy solnyshko,” I murmur against her ear, my thumb circling her clit. “Come for me.”
She shatters around me, a cry of pure ecstasy escaping her lips. Her legs begin to shake, so I band an arm around her waist and watch, entranced, as she rides out her orgasm, her gorgeous body trembling, wearing my ropes.
The sight, the sound, the feel of her coming undone is almost too much. My own need is a raging fire inside me, and I struggle against the urge to take her right here, right now. Just when I’m wondering how many cold showers it’ll take to make my raging hard-on go away, Taryn turns around and palms my cock through my leather pants, the nails on her other hand scratching delicious trails down my chest.
“Don’t quit on me now,” she says, her tone challenging. “I was just starting to have fun.”
Her words unleash something primal in me. I capture her mouth in a fierce kiss, my hands rending her new panties into scraps that fall to the floor as she works frantically at my belt and fly, freeing me from the confines of my pants. desperate to feel her skin against mine.
Pushing her against the mirrored wall, I lift her right leg and hitch it at my hip, positioning myself at her entrance. The crown of my cock presses against her slick heat, and I have to close my eyes for a moment, fighting for control.
“Are you sure?” I manage to ask, my voice strained.
“Yes,” she breathes, her eyes blazing with the golden-colored glamour. “I want this. I want you.”
The last word is barely out of her mouth when I thrust home, filling her completely, both of us gasping at the sensation. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”
She’s tight and wet and perfect, and I’m drowning in her, every stroke driving us both to new heights together. I move harder, faster, her moans spurring me on. She meets every thrust, her nails digging into my shoulders, her breath hot against my neck. We’re lost in each other, the world outside this alcove all but forgotten.
All that matters is her. This moment, this connection.
