My mouth drops open. “Beg me to indulge this depraved whim. Your chest is flushed. I wonder…” He touches one fingertip to my thin leggings and smiles. “Soaked through. You’re wet and needy and I can satisfy you if you beg. Afterwards, I’ll let you go. I should agree. That would be rational. We both desire what he’s suggesting. It’s a win-win. But I can’t go home without fulfilling my mission. I’ve seen what happens to my father’s other minions when they fail. If I take his deal, once I leave I’ll be more alone than ever, having once had Ian Abernathy inside me. I shake my head. “I’ll never beg you. The words come out with the perfect blend of pride, brattiness, and resilience. I almost believe that I don’t want to plead with him to fill me, over and over again, then keep me. That I wouldn’t be even more turned on if this was our kinky private game, rather than a deadly mission. He’s silent for a moment. “Tell me then. What should I do with you? You tried to murder me. “Assassinate,” I say. “It’s entirely different and not personal. I wasn’t trying to kill you exactly, just get rid of you in a permanent way, because it’s my job. More like being accidentally run over by a car in town. Less like homicide because I found you’d been sleeping around with women other than me. ” Where the hell did my brain come up with that comparison? He tilts his chin. “You talk a lot. I’m nervous. “Still deserves punishment,” he adds dryly. “Failure is its own reward. ” I try not to think about what my father will do when he discovers that I blundered this because I couldn’t resist smelling Ian Abernathy. ” Ian kneels between my open thighs and his expression goes speculative. “For now, you’re my prisoner. Whatever the other consequences are, those will be later. I meant, what should be your punishment immediately?” “You’re not going to kill me? I thought you’d kill me. That’s the usual etiquette, isn’t it?” ” He shrugs one shoulder. “I’ve no need to add to that tally. “Well, that’s good news. Continuing existence is my preferred option. Out of the two obvious choices. I mean, I don’t want to die tonight. The corner of his mouth tugs into a half-smile of amusement. I press my lips together. I’m talking too much. “You can choose your punishment,” he murmurs. I get to choose. The combination of helplessly tied down and control over what happens next is heady. I think of obvious stuff. I can almost feel the sting of his hand on my buttocks. But that’s so usual, it wouldn’t be right for him. I take a deep breath. “You said I talk too much. He raises one eyebrow. “You could shut me up. “And how do you suggest I do that?” he asks with brutal calm. “I…” My pussy clenches and throbs at the thought. “You could…” My gaze slips to where his cock is hard, and saliva pools under my tongue. I swallow and look back at his face. “Fuck my mouth. He tilts his head to the side as though considering. “That’s the punishment you choose, is it?” “If I have to be punished, I guess I think it’s appropriate. ” Sort of. Is it? I’ve lost my mind. Nothing about this is going the way I thought it would. Nothing has been normal since the night I met the man at the masquerade. I have a name to obsess over now. “I dunno, what do you think?” He doesn’t answer, but moves with swift efficiency. He yanks my hair elastic out, tugging on my scalp as he does so and I wince. That small pain reverberates through me as pillows are piled behind my back, lifting me up to almost sitting and he undoes and reties my wrists. Then I’m so distracted by his beautiful chest inches from my eyes that I miss what he’s doing. “Keep your hand here, or this all stops. ” He places my left palm onto his arse. I mean to ask what happens if it stops, but the silken smooth head of his cock touches my lips and instinctively I open. I’ve never done this before. I’ve imagined, and read smutty books, but I’ve never… And oh god the feeling of his cock is amazing. It fills my mouth and pushes at the back of my throat. Silky and hot. So much hotter literally and figuratively than I thought it would be. When he shifts away and then back into my mouth, I realise he paused, giving me a moment to accustom myself. Or maybe to change my mind? My nipples have gone hard and sensitised, and when his thigh brushes against my breast it sends pleasure zipping down to between my legs where I’m so full and wet I’m aching. I had no idea beyond a whim what this would be like. But as he begins to thrust, gently at first then with more confidence that I can take it, I love it. Yes, he’s clearly too big, the physics of this is impossible, but being crammed over-full with him is part of the appeal. As are his hands cupped at the back of my head and his strong legs on either side of my torso. He’s got me on all sides. I can’t escape and I don’t want to. I press my fingers deeper into Ian’s buttock, or I try. It’s all hard muscle, tensed. The one thing I’m not doing is letting go. I’m never letting go of this man. His pace is firm and constant, and utterly out of my control. As I suggested, he’s fucking my mouth. I’m his toy. His breathing has gone a little ragged, he shaking, and it’s the best sound in the world, stoic Ian Abernathy beginning to come apart because of what he’s doing to me. “Open your eyes, Cleo. I don’t know when they closed, but I look up at his face. What I see shakes me. Yes, there’s lust in his expression. Yes, a satisfaction in the pleasure of the warm wet around his cock. But he’s not using me randomly, or impersonally. Savagely happy, that’s the only description I can think of. “Good lass. You’re making me crazy with the feel of you. His praise lights me up. I love the idea of pleasing him, however insane this is. He must recognise, somehow, because he keeps telling me in that rough voice, his Scottish accent like hot buttered toast, that I’m beautiful, perfect, and he’s wanted my mouth on him. He tells me that this is everything he’s imagined and more. He tells me I’m his wee bonnie lass, and it’s like drinking warm honey. Sweet, so sweet. He says that he’s never been this hard, and I believe him. Shifting one hand to wrap my hair around his fist, the other cradles my skull firmly. He pushes harder, the rhythm he’s established slipping a little into jerks as he swells further under my lips. I hold his gaze as he shudders and gasps, his grip tightening and tugging at my scalp. Just a hint of pain and it’s so good. There’s no warning as he pulls out and spills over my breasts. Reams and reams of hot ejaculate hits my skin. I was already molten between the legs, but his come feels like a brand that links every part of my body, lighting me on fire. His green eyes don’t leave mine. We’re locked. I think he wanted me to open my eyes so I’d see it was him marking me, and I couldn’t deny it. As if I could. I can’t deny him. Ian Abernathy. I’m going to remember him in my mouth and on my skin for the rest of my life, even if said life is really fucking short because I failed in my task here. I stifle an involuntary cry of dissent as he moves. Without his body on mine I feel the bite of the night air and hot shame of having enjoyed every part of that. Ian disappears into what I assume in the en suite. A tap runs. I hope he isn’t going to… my mind refuses to fill in the gap for what he could do now. His expression is set neutral when he returns. No sign of the emotion I saw earlier. He sits at my side and it takes me a second to recognise when a soft wet flannel wipes over my chest that he is washing me. And I let him. “My dirty lass,” he murmurs as his seed smears over my nipple. I think I should object, but I nod helplessly. When I’m clean and dry and you’d never know he spurted his come all over me, he speaks. “I didna say you talked too much. I said you talked a lot. What does that mean? I’d assumed it was a criticism, because it always is when my father says I’m talkative. “You’ve had your punishment. Now you get mine. And that’s when fear skitters over my skin again. I don’t know what to expect, but it’s not him stretching out his long frame over me. Our noses brush. “You have one free hand. Wait what? I’d forgotten. My non-dominant left hand has been lying on the bed since Ian pulled from my grasp, as though it was as tied up as my other limbs. So I do the logical thing with my means of escape. I gouge my nails into his eye—nope. I don’t. That would be far too sensible and I left sensible back in London along with modest, restrained, and long-term survival prospects. I cup the back of his neck and drag his mouth to kiss me. He groans as our lips smash together. Then he’s devouring my mouth, and I his. This feels somehow more forbidden than what he just did to me. Riskier too. This kiss is desperate, his tongue thrusting, claiming me, and I try to do the same. I have no idea how long we kiss like this. Dirty and wet and yet also surprisingly innocent given I tried to kill him then told him to force his cock into my throat. It might be aeons of our lips sliding over each other’s before I get impatient. He is holding himself so his weight isn’t crushing me and this seems grossly unfair. I want to feel every part of him. That brutal strength, yes, and the sheer size of this gorgeous man. Despite being tied down, I’m writhing and trying to grind myself on him. “My needy lass…” he purrs as he draws away and holds my hip in his big hand, pressing me to the bed. “I am going to do the other thing I’ve dreamed of since we met: lick your pussy until you scream and come on my mouth. I’m not going to stop then. I’m going to continue until you’ve pulsed under my tongue at least twice. I’m going to slip my fingers into that sweet tight passage of yours and stroke you into mindless pleasure. A whimper of desire is fighting to leave my chest. My hips move of their own accord, trying to swivel despite his grip, in a vain attempt to get friction on my clit. Because if I thought Ian’s words as he thrust his cock into my throat were arousing, that has nothing on what he’s promising now. “And you, Cleo, have a choice. You can try to fight me off, though you won’t succeed with only one hand. You can take the pleasure I’m giving like a good lass. That whimper I held back breaks out. “Or you can undo your bindings and escape. I won’t stop you. But the question is, can you escape before I make you come? Because once you come for me, you’re my captive. I’m blinking and shocked and confused, but he doesn’t hesitate. Half a second after that pronouncement, his hand smooths over my knickers and leggings. He murmurs an apology, the cotton tightens, and there’s a rip. That sound galvanises me into action. I cannot be a captive. I grasp for the knot holding my right wrist. Kisses over the place where I had fabric covering me fogs my mind. When his fingers touch my core, mine lose all dexterity, like he stole it to use against me. The pleasure ignites. I try to focus on breaking the back of the knot, looking up at it. But as I push at the rope, Ian pushes a finger into my passage and my chin jerks down to see what he’s doing. All I can see is his salt and pepper hair, massive shoulders and as though he senses my watching him, his eyes snap open and regard me with something I can only parse as smug and knowing, before he withdraws his finger and thrusts it back in. Oh god this feels so good. He’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Not with my own fingers or a toy. I think it’s the heat of him, but perhaps also him urging me on in a low growl that I feel as much as hear. Focus, Cleo. I have to concentrate on escape, even if it might leave me on the cusp of exploding. My fingers have no resilience. They push against the rope fruitlessly while Ian is all potency, so effective I struggle to remember what I’m doing beyond taking what he gives. I’m chasing him now. Without my volition, I’m moving in time with his licks and finger strokes, my pussy throbbing. I’m so close. I can feel orgasm climbing. Then it slips. The tension of rope-on-rope collapses and the coils fall away. I yank my wrist out. I’m free. My two ankles will be the work of seconds with both hands. I shift as I grasp down towards my leg and Ian’s rhythm is disrupted. He misses a beat and my clit screams at me as my heart stutters. I reach out. And slide my hands into his hair. Books Chapters Are Daily Updated Join & Stay Updated For All Books Updates… The instant my fingertips touch his scalp, Ian unleashes himself. I have no idea what he does with his mouth or his hands, only that I’m coming so hard I think I almost pass out. The pleasure is overwhelming. I hang onto him, his hair in my clenched fists as wave after wave racks through me, all the way to the pads of my feet. I’m vaguely aware of Ian’s arm braced over my hips, because I’ve probably nutted him with the jerking of my pelvis. I’m screaming, or sobbing, or something, but I don’t let go. And the fucker. Doesn’t. As the intensity eases and my body recognises it’s no longer under attack from pleasure, he begins the siege again. A gentle touch of his tongue to my labia. The smallest glide of his finger into me. My knuckles almost fracture as I relinquish my grip, and he grunts an approval at the cessation of me pulling his hair out, which I concede was probably quite uncomfortable. I let my eyes close, and relax, my fingers playing with the silken strands of his hair as he does exactly what he promised. He builds me to orgasm again. This one is more like ocean swell than a wave crashing onto the shore. It’s deeper and stronger, less splintering. It creeps up on me and spreads through my body like a drug. And when I’m done shaking, Ian lets out a sigh that sounds like utter contentment. As he unties me, he leaves kisses where the rope has chafed, whispering that such beauty shouldn’t be marred. I’m too sated to think about what that means. Every cell in me is wrung out in the best way. He pulls the duvet over us and gathers me into his arms. His chest is pressed to my back and his arm is casually over my side. I wriggle a little to get comfortable, ignoring that the movement brings us closer together. My eyelids droop closed. His hand finds mine and covers it. “I’ll wake and catch you if you t Title: A Second Chance by CrushReel In "A Second Chance," Clarissa and Pierce, once the epitome of a perfect couple, drifted apart as life's challenges tested their love. Following their divorce, they embarked on separate journeys. However, fate may have other plans as circumstances lead them back towards each other. Will they seize this second chance at love or let past wounds hinder their reconnection? This contemporary drama novel intertwines themes of love, loss, and the complexities of relationships against a backdrop of time travel and reincarnation. Readers will be captivated by the intricate exploration of how destiny plays a role in bringing souls together across different lifetimes. What sets "A Second Chance" apart is its compelling narrative that delves into the intricacies of human emotions and the enduring power of love. Dive into this engaging tale that transcends time and space, available to read at CrushReel for those seeking a poignant story that resonates with the heart.