Ruthless King (Mount Trilogy #1)

“What the hell—”

Before I can react, the other ankle is subjected to the same treatment, but on the opposite side, leaving my legs spread wide and vulnerable. I jerk against the bonds, but they’re just as unyielding as the man before me.

“Don’t.”

My movement halts at his command.

“See, you can follow orders. And for that, I won’t cuff your hands.”

His thumbs start at my ankles, just above the buckles, and slide up the inside of my legs until they reach my thighs. He fans out his fingers as they curl around each of my legs, pushing my skirt up inch by inch until my thong is bared to his view.

“Are you scared, Keira?”

Part of me is f*cking petrified, but the other part, the part that’s clearly insane, is responsible for the slickness already gathering between my legs because of the bondage. Something I’d only tried once before, but I push the thought from my mind. I don’t want to remember that crazy Mardi Gras night now because of all the disappointments that came after.

Mount’s palms stop with one thumb poised just over my center, and I realize he’s waiting for an answer.

“Yes.” I force the word from between my lips, and his smile turns victorious.

“You should be. But you’re also a little liar.” He swipes his thumb down the material of my thong that’s becoming more soaked with each moment that passes. “You’re already wet for me. You like this. Being at my mercy. Not sure what I’m going to do to you. I could finger you, eat your sweet cunt, or f*ck you. Or I could do all three.”

My thighs attempt to clench together, but the bonds keep my ankles locked down. Mount doesn’t miss the movement of my flexing muscles, though.

“You’re a dirty f*cking girl, Keira. But I’ve always known that about you.”

“How?” The demand comes out on a wavering breath.

Instead of an answer, he uses his other hand to snap the lace of the thong, tearing it free.

“I swore to myself I wouldn’t taste this p*ssy, wouldn’t give you the pleasure until I buried my cock in your mouth, but you’ve got me breaking more than one of my rules tonight.”

A shudder rolls over my body as his nose drags along my inner thigh. He breathes in my scent, then closes his mouth over my center and begins to devour me. He teases my entrance with a finger, my wetness growing with each movement before he pushes it inside, sucking hard on my clit at the same time. He changes his plan of attack to some kind of unholy make Keira come instantly play that produces a shock wave of pleasure. My back lifts off the desk as I reach for his hair, and I’m not certain whether I want to yank him away or hold him between my legs so I can experience the intense sensation over and over.

As soon as my fingers bury in his hair, he yanks his face away, shaking his head.

“You just can’t follow orders.”

He rises to his feet and comes around the desk, then reaches for my hands.

“What—”

“You’ll see.”

He wraps my wrists in cushion-lined leather cuffs connected by an intricate chain. Mount pushes my spine back down to the surface of his desk and guides my bound hands over my head, clipping them to a hook somewhere below.

He surveys my body like it’s a feast spread out on his desk, waiting to be devoured.

The white dress now makes sense. I definitely feel like a sacrificial offering.

“Now I can eat that cunt in peace, and you can’t stop me.”

“If this is the part where you torture me with orgasms, I’m okay with that.”

As soon as the admission is out, part of me wants to snatch it back, but something about it also fills me with power. Like on some level, I’m allowing Mount this privilege. Maybe my mind is well and truly f*cked, because the smile that crosses his face, smug yet secretive, only makes me want him to return to his interrupted task faster.

He shakes his head slowly from side to side like he doesn’t know what to make of me, and that reinforces the shreds of power I’m grappling to hold on to.

When he crouches between my legs again, circling my clit with one thick fingertip, I writhe, bucking my hips up to increase the pressure, determined to control the situation as much as I can from my position. I may be bound, but I don’t feel helpless anymore.

Mount sucks my clit between his teeth and bites down just hard enough to send a jolt of desire laced with a hint of pain through my body.

When he releases his teeth, a slight sting remains, but it’s not pain. It’s . . . more complicated than that. If he keeps doing it, I’m going to come in the next sixty seconds.

He tongues my entrance before licking up to my clit and nipping it again, and I moan, my head thrashing from side to side. Protests fall from my lips as his mouth recedes and he circles my clit with a fingertip again.

“You love that. The bite of pain with your pleasure. The pressure on your clit constantly taking you to the edge. What if I could keep you on that edge all the time? Ready to come at a moment’s notice?”

I swallow, wondering where his diabolical mind is going. “What are you talking about?”

“An experiment.” He reaches around the side of the desk and pulls out a package. I lift my head as much as I can with my arms in their bound position to see what he’s doing. I see a flash of silver.

“What is that?”

“You’ll see. Or feel, rather.”

Cold metal drags across my heated center, and I know exactly what he has—some kind of clamp.

“Let’s see how you like this.” He closes it lightly over my swollen clit, sending my spine arching off the desk again.

As quickly as the pressure came, it dissipates.

I want it back. Magnolia told me there’s no shame if we’re both willing, and as messed up as this is, I want more of what he’s giving me.

“I could make you wear a clamp twenty-four hours a day to remind you not to disobey, but that’s not safe or healthy.”

Those are the last words I expect to hear come out of his mouth, and I have no response. But when he stands and the pressure returns again, I’m edging toward an orgasm. He lets off once more.

“But there is another option, one I think you’d f*cking love. And I know I will.”

I don’t know what he’s talking about, but I’m so close to the edge, I’m mindless with need. “Please—”

“You want to come?”

“Yes!”

“Then tell me you’ll pierce that sweet little hood so the jewelry rubs your clit with your every movement, keeping you wet and ready for me.”

His words penetrate the lust-filled haze in my head, dragging me back to reality.

“What?”

“A hood piercing. It’ll heighten your every sensation. Some women even claim it causes spontaneous orgasms.”

My mouth falls open, but not because of shock like he probably assumes.

How does he infiltrate my thoughts?