Chapter 93: Do You UnderStand Me?

"I know what you need." She climbs up his body, straddling his waist now, feeling the hard line of him pressed against her inner thigh, feeling him jerk at even that much contact. Her fingers find his chest, trace along one of the dark stripes there, down to the small hardened point of his nipple. "But not yet."

She leans down and closes her mouth around it, sucking gently, feeling him arch beneath her with a startled, strangled noise. His nipples are sensitive she discovered that the first night, almost by accident, and she’s used the knowledge mercilessly ever since.

She nibbles the peak between her teeth, light, careful, then soothes it with her tongue, and above her he’s making a litany of broken sounds, hips grinding up against her without his permission, seeking any friction at all.

"D-Dove—" Half-whine, half-growl, the two tangled together in his throat. "That’s not—that’s not fair—"

"Mm." She switches to the other side, giving it the same attention, feeling his whole chest shudder under her mouth. Her hand finds his cock again, wraps loose around it, just enough pressure to remind him it’s there, not nearly enough to give him what he wants. "You said you’d be good."

"I am being good," he gasps, and there’s real desperation cracking through the words now, his hips rolling up into her loose grip, seeking more. "I’m trying—nngh—so hard—"

"I know you are." She lifts her head, meets his eyes—blown wide, pupils swallowing the gold almost entirely, his whole face flushed and open and wrecked in a way she doesn’t get to see often, not from him, not from someone who spends his days all sharp edges and controlled strength. Here, now, tied down and begging, he’s something else entirely. Something that belongs to her.

Dove tightens her grip and starts stroking again, slow, deliberate, watching every twitch and shudder it drags out of him. "You’re allowed to want this," she murmurs, leaning down to speak the words against his jaw, feeling him strain toward her mouth even through the haze of sensation. "You’re allowed to need it. Just not yet."

"Nnh—" His head tips back against the pillow, throat working, the long line of it exposed and vulnerable. "Not—not yet-ahh."

"Not yet," she agrees, and feels him tense beneath her again, feels the telltale throb against her palm that means he’s close, so close, and she slows her hand to almost nothing, just enough to keep him right there on the edge without tipping him over.

"Dove—" It comes out strangled, pleading, his whole body trembling now with the effort of holding back, the rope creaking again under the force of his grip. "Please—I can’t—"

"You can," she whispers, and kisses the corner of his mouth, feels his breath stutter against her lips. "You will. For me."

She shifts back, lifting herself off his thighs just enough to settle lower, until she’s hovering right over where he’s hardest and hottest against her. She can feel the heat of him even through the thin fabric still covering her, a brand against her inner thigh, and when she rolls her hips forward just slightly, dragging her covered sex along the length of him, his whole body goes taut beneath her.

"D-Dove—" The word breaks apart in his throat.

"Shh." She reaches down, hooks her fingers in the waistband of her own underwear, and drags it off slow, watching his eyes track the movement, watching the way his pupils blow wide when she tosses the fabric aside and settles back over him bare now, nothing between them but the thin slickness already gathering at her center.

She drags herself along him again, deliberate this time, feeling the thick ridged length of his cock slide against her folds, catching for one aching second against her clit before she shifts forward again. Her breath catches too—she can’t help it, the slide of him so hot, so hard, pulsing in time with his heartbeat against her most sensitive skin.

"Feel that?" she breathes, rolling her hips in a slow circle now, coating him in her wetness, teasing herself as much as him.

"Feel how wet I am for you?"

"Please—" His voice cracks wide open, hips twitching up involuntarily, trying to find the angle that would slide him inside her, and she presses a hand flat against his stomach to still him.

"Not yet." She lifts herself, positions him right at her entrance, lets just the blunt head of him press into her, and holds there, watching his face contort, watching his throat work around a sound he’s fighting to keep quiet. "Ask me nicely."

"P-please, Dove—" His voice shakes, ears pinned flat, hips straining minutely against her staying hand. "Please, I need—need to feel you, your pussy is made for me-ahh."

She sinks down.

All at once, no mercy in it, taking him to the hilt in one slow continuous drop that punches a broken cry out of both of them. He fills her so completely it borders on too much, a stretch that makes her gasp, her thighs trembling where they bracket his hips, and above her he’s making a sound she’s never heard from him before, something raw and wordless and desperate.

"Oh—oh—" She rolls her hips experimentally, feels him throb inside her, feels her own body clench involuntarily around the intrusion. "You feel so good. So full."

"Dove, I’m gonna—I can’t—" His whole body strains against the ropes, abdomen rigid, cock twitching inside her.

"No." She says it sharp, final, pressing her palms flat to his heaving chest. "You don’t come until I say so. Do you understand me?"

Dove took him millimeter by millimeter, her inner muscles fluttering, clenching, milking him. Her eyes, dark pools of pure fucking dominance, locked onto his. "Feel that?" she breathed, grinding her clit hard against his pelvic bone, sending sparks shooting through her own core. "Feel how fucking tight I am? How I’m sucking your big, stupid cock dry?" She leaned in again, her lips brushing his. "You wanna flood my little pussy, don’t you, Alpha? Pump me full of that thick, sticky cum?"

Throne’s jaw clenched, a tremor running through his entire colossal frame. A bead of pre-cum leaked from his slit, glistening on her inner thigh.

"Fuck... Dove..." he choked out.

Dove laughed, a low, throaty sound that vibrated through her body and straight onto his trapped cock. "Shhhh," she cooed, patting his cheek mockingly. "Good boys don’t beg. Good boys listen." She lifted herself again, higher this time, letting the cool air tease his weeping crown. Her own juices dripped onto his balls, hot and slick. "You’re gonna be such a good boy for me, aren’t you? Gonna hold that fucking load right here..." She tapped the base of his cock where it disappeared inside her, making him gasp. "...until I tell you to fucking explode."

She paused, relishing the sight of him trembling beneath her, his massive chest heaving, his cock a rigid, straining monument buried inside her controlling heat.

The slap of her wet cunt lips against his groin echoed in the charged silence. She traced a finger along the thick vein pulsing on the underside of his shaft, feeling it jump under her touch.

"Mmm, feel how fucking hard you are for me," she murmured, almost to herself. "Like fucking steel wrapped in velvet. And it’s all mine." She sank back down, slower than before, a fucking geological age, letting every ridge, every throbbing vein of his cock drag against her sensitive, clenching walls. "Allllll mine... to tease..." Another agonizing lift. "...to torture..." Another slow, wet slide down, her cunt swallowing him with obscene suction. "...to edge... until you’re nothing but a begging, dripping fucking mess for my pleasure." She ground her hips in a tight, vicious circle, her clit rubbing furiously against him. "Now... be a good boy... and hold... the... fuck... on."

Dove rides him harder, the angle punching sparks up through her spine every time she bottoms out, her thighs burning with the effort but she doesn’t stop, can’t stop, not when the pressure building low in her belly has gone from simmer to boil. Her fingers dig into the muscle of his chest, nails scraping over the dark stripes there, and she feels him jerk beneath her, feels the hiss of breath he can’t quite swallow down.

"Yes!" The word tears out of her, higher than she means it to be, and she doesn’t care anymore about Edrik two rooms over, doesn’t care about anything except the white-hot coil snapping tight inside her. "Yes, oh god, yes—"

Her hips stutter, losing rhythm, chasing only the feeling now, grinding down hard and circling against him until the climax crashes through her all at once, her whole body seizing, back arching, a scream ripping loose from her throat that she makes no effort to muffle. "This feels so good—oh fuck, Thorne—" Her nails rake down his chest as she comes apart on top of him, leaving thin red lines in their wake, her inner walls clamping down around him in fluttering, relentless waves.

She collapses forward, palms flat against his heaving sternum, breath sawing out of her in ragged gasps, and beneath her she can feel him trembling, feel the full-body tension of a man holding himself together by threads. His cock throbs inside her, impossibly harder now, straining.

"Now," she gasps against his throat, voice wrecked, desperate in a way that has nothing to do with control anymore. "Fill me up. Fill my womb full of your hot cum, Thorne—now, please—"

The ropes give a final shuddering creak, not breaking, but pulled taut as every muscle in his arms locks rigid. His hips snap up to meet her, once, twice, and then he’s gone—a roar tearing out of his chest that he doesn’t even try to contain anymore, raw and guttural and long, his whole body shaking beneath her as he spills inside her in hot, heavy pulses, each one dragging another broken sound out of him.

"Dove—Dove—oh fuck, Dove—" Over and over, his voice cracking apart on her name, his cock twitching deep inside her with every wave, flooding her with wet heat until it drips slick and spent between them.

She stays there, trembling, feeling the last aftershocks ripple through them both, his chest heaving under her scratched palms, his breath finally beginning to even out beneath her ear.

A late knock brought them back through the rear door dressed. The keeper stood beside Edrik’s cot with a freight driver from the western military base. "Ask him about the four districts," he told Dove. "The place people promise you depends on which gate they let you through."