Chapter 66 Anticipation
Claire
I swallowed hard. I knew exactly what I’d come here for, but the way he moved told me one thing: he’d been starving to have me, and tonight I was going to pay the price with my body.
I reached behind my back, unhooked the bra, and let it slide down my arms to the floor. My breasts spilled free, exposed under his heavy gaze.
The last time we’d been together it hadn’t been rough. But now… now I was finally about to meet the real Liam again, the one who takes without mercy.
My fingers hooked into the waistband of my panties. I slid them down in one quick motion, stepping out of them. His eyes never left me, not once. He just watched, silent, hungry.
And there I stood, completely naked, skin prickling under the weight of his stare.
When I lifted my gaze to his, his eyes were devouring every inch of me. Our eyes locked, and the air between us thickened with everything he hadn’t said yet.
He tilted his head to the side, eyes dropping low. He was staring at… my arms, tracing from one to the other.
“I didn’t do that, did I?” he asked, referring to the marks Ian had left on my arms when he grabbed me.
I shook my head quickly. He’d figure out Ian did it anyway.
“But it’s nothing,” I said quickly.
His gaze hardened.
“Stop covering for that guy, Mrs. Claire. I’m a jealous man,” he spat.
I nodded sharply, as if what he said made perfect sense.
“The only marks that should ever be on your body are the ones I leave,” he said. He closed the distance in long strides until he was right in front of me. “I don’t think you get it, Mrs. Claire. I’m very possessive of what’s mine.”
Suddenly he grabbed my breasts. A gasp tore from my throat.
“And I’m going to mark you every single day to prove it—so when you go out, everyone will know you belong to me.”
I breathed slowly while he kneaded and squeezed.
“Do you understand?”
I nodded, words failing me completely.
Then he released me abruptly.
“Get down on your knees.”
I obeyed, dropping to my knees in front of him. My eyes flicked to his pants—his arousal strained obviously against the fabric.
“Let it out,” he whispered.
I reached up, fingers finding the zipper. I pulled it down slowly, then tugged his boxers lower. His cock sprang free, inches from my face.
Long. Hard. Veiny. Hot. Pulsing like it might burst any second.
He didn’t need to say a word—I already knew what he wanted. I leaned forward and took him into my mouth slowly, my own arousal obvious from how soaked I already was between my thighs.
I’d been craving this for so long—his scent, his taste, the way he filled every sense. It was why I couldn’t think straight anymore.
I started at the tip, swirling my tongue around the head before sliding lower, taking at least half of him while my hand wrapped around the base, stroking in rhythm.
I worked him the way he liked, the way he’d taught me, slow at first, then deeper, sucking harder. Soon his fingers twisted into my hair, gripping just tight enough to let me know I was doing it right. That silent approval only made me want to please him more; his hold tightened, urging me on.
I felt it building, he was close to the edge already. A low grunt escaped him, and then the first salty drop of precum hit my tongue. I looked up at him through my lashes. His eyes were locked on me, dark and intense, watching every movement.
I licked it away, savoring it, before he pulled himself free from my mouth.
“I want to see you cry like before, Mrs. Claire,” he murmured, voice rough and low. “I think I’ve missed that.”
“Get up,” he ordered.
I rose without a word. He turned and headed for a door across the room. I followed, pulse already racing with anticipation. I knew exactly what waited behind it, and the thought made my heart pound harder.
He opened the door and stepped inside first before I did. I looked around—the familiar setup of his red room looking at me in my face. Was he going to whip me again? Just to watch me cry?
I turned to him. He was already shrugging off his suit jacket, then his shirt, leaving his upper body bare.
He walked over to two poles just at the center of the room and glanced back at me.
“Come.” he ordered once.
I crossed the room to him.
The two poles were each fitted with long cuffs at the top and shorter ones at the bottom. He was about to cuff me to them—spread me open, completely exposed.
I swallowed.
“Liam, I don’t like where this is going.”
“Shut up,” he said, grabbing my hand and yanking me against him. I looked up into his face.
“It depends on whether you play your part well,” he murmured. “Until then, don’t be scared.”
He lowered his head and gave me a quick, firm peck on the lips.
Now my hands were cuffed high on either side, arms stretched wide. He bent down, spreading my legs apart and securing my ankles to the lower cuffs. I was splayed open in front of him, like an offering, completely at his mercy.
Not knowing what came next made my breathing quicken, shallow and fast.
He straightened, towering over me.
Suddenly his hand fisted in my hair and jerked my head back. I winced, eyes squeezing shut from the sharp sting.
“Open them,” he ordered and I did
My chest rose and fell rapidly from want and fear at the same time.
He crashed his mouth onto mine, kissing me deeply, tongue stroking mine in slow, deliberate sweeps. One hand slid up to my throat, holding me in place while he devoured me.
I wanted to touch him, run my hands over his skin, grip his shoulders, but the restraints kept me helpless, arms pulled taut.
He captured my bottom lip between his teeth, sucked it gently, then bit down, just hard enough to leave a mark.
Slowly, he released my lips, trailing soft kisses from my chin down to my neck, inhaling deeply as if savoring my scent.
His hand slid from my throat, tracing a slow path to my breast until his fingers found my pink nipple. He pinched it lightly, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger while his tongue licked a warm line along my neck.
A moan slipped from me. He continued downward, tongue tracing my collarbone, then lower still, until his mouth hovered over the soft swell of my breast where his fingers played.
When his hand left my nipple, his lips took its place. He drew it into his mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder.
“Ah,” I gasped, tilting my head to the side. My ponytail had long since come undone, hair spilling loose, and his other hand moved from my hair to my untouched nipple, pinching it softly.
He swirled his tongue around the first one, then bit down, just enough to sting, enough to mark. He was doing it deliberately, leaving little claims on my skin as he went.
He switched to the other breast, freeing his fingers so his mouth could take over, repeating the same slow torment, sucking, swirling, biting lightly.
“Liam,” I breathed out his name like a plea.
He hummed against my skin, responding to his name. “Hmm?”