Chapter 110 Chapter One hundred and nine
Ara
“I almost lost you,” Thayne continued, his voice turning into ragged whispers.
“I can't imagine a life without you in it, Arayna.” He said, switched to the other nipple, sucking hard, his teeth grazing just enough to sting. “I watched you almost die for me.”
It felt like he was punishing me for stepping in, and if this was what punishment from him felt like, then I craved it.
His free hand shoved between us, ripping at the button of my jeans, the zipper sliding down in one impatient motion.
He pushed the denim and my panties down my thighs together, not bothering to get them off completely.
They tangled around my knees, trapping me open for him.
He dropped to one knee, his mouth trailing fire down my stomach, over the swell of my belly.
He kissed the curve there reverently, then lower, and lower, until his tongue found me.
“Thaaayyyyyne!” I gasped out the scream, my hips bucking.
He held me still with one hand on my hip, the other sliding between my folds, spreading me open.
His tongue followed, long, slow licks that reset my brain, then quick flicks over my clit. Then he switched to deep thrusts inside me.
I was soaked, dripping down his chin, and he groaned like he’d been starving for the taste.
“Mine,” he said against me, the word vibrating through my core. “You’re mine. Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I moaned, my fingers twisting in his hair. “Only yours.”
He stood in one swift motion, shoving his pants down just enough to free himself. Thayne's cock always left me speechless. It twitched impatiently, and when I tried to reach for it so I could lick off the precum glistening at the tip, he gently slapped my hand away.
“I want to fuck you until our babies know their dad is home.” He sounded like a caveman who hadn’t gotten any action in years.
He lifted me higher, notched himself at my entrance, and thrust in. He went in all the way to the hilt, no warning.
I cried out, my nails raking down his back. He didn’t give me time to adjust. He fucked me against the wall, fast, rough, every stroke driving the air from my lungs.
The jet engines roared outside, the cabin vibrating around us, but nothing existed except him inside me, filling me, claiming me.
His mouth found mine again, claiming my lips, teasing my tongue before slipping his own inside my mouth.
He swallowed every sound I made, every gasp, every plea.
“Never again,” he growled between thrusts. “You don’t sacrifice yourself. You don’t ever leave me. You hear me?”
“Yes,” I sobbed, clinging to him. “Yes.”
He grabbed my arms with one hand and pinned them over my head against the cool bulkhead wall.
My full breasts jutted forward, my nipples brushing his chest with every ragged breath I took. The position arched my back, offering everything to him, and he took it.
Thayne lifted me higher, his strong hands under my thighs, until my ass left the wall completely.
The new angle drove him deeper than before until the thick head of him kissed the very end of me, nudging my womb with every brutal thrust.
His hips snapped forward, wild and merciless now. Each stroke punched the air from my lungs, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the small cabin.
“You don’t sound like it,” he growled against my mouth. “Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I screamed, my voice breaking on the edge of climax.
My breasts bounced heavily with every punishing drive. He released my hip just long enough to capture one nipple between his fingers, pinching, rolling, tugging until the sharp sting melted into molten pleasure.
I arched harder, chasing more, my thighs trembling around his waist.
“I want to punish your nipples, Ara,” he rasped in a gravelly voice. “Will you let me?”
“Do whatever you want,” I begged, already lost in the fire racing through me. “Please, anything.”
He carried us to the bed in three long strides, never breaking our connection. He laid me down gently despite the storm in his eyes, then reached into the nightstand drawer.
Thin black ropes, soft silk, and expertly coiled, spilled into his palm.
I watched, my pulse thundering, as he unraveled them with practiced hands.
He lifted my upper body, cradling me against his chest while he began to wind the ropes across my breasts.
The pregnancy had made them fuller, heavier, more sensitive; every pass of the silk tightened my skin, framed my nipples until they stood out obscenely, dark, swollen and begging.
When he finished, the ropes crossed over and under in an intricate harness, lifting and binding my breasts so they looked obscene, pornographic, and perfect.
My nipples jutted forward like they were being offered to him on a platter.
Thayne sat back on his heels and stared.
“You look fucking exquisite, Ara,” he breathed. “You were made just for me. Look at these tits…”
His palms cracked down with sharp, simultaneous slaps to both breasts.
I moaned, back arching off the mattress. The ropes bit into my skin, heightening every sensation, turning pain into bright, electric pleasure.
He did it again, harder this time.
My nipples throbbed, flushed dark red. He leaned down and took one into his mouth, sucking hard, his teeth grazing, his tongue flicking the tip while his hand tormented the other.
The ropes kept them trapped, sensitive, unable to escape the onslaught. I writhed under him, my thighs squeezing his hips, trying to pull him deeper.
He released my nipple with a wet pop, then blew a cool stream of air across it.
I whimpered.
“You like that?” he asked. “You like being tied up for me, breasts bound and aching while I fuck you?”
“Yes,” I gasped. “God, yes.”
But then he collapsed on me. His full weight dropped suddenly, heavy and limp, driving the air from my lungs.
For one terrifying heartbeat I thought he’d simply passed out from exhaustion, from the fight, from everything.
Then I felt it, something warm and wet, spreading across my stomach. Blood.
I shoved at his shoulders, panic clawing up my throat. “Thayne?” No answer.
I twisted us with strength I didn’t know I had, rolling him onto his side so I was on top. My palms pressed against his chest, trying to push his upper body up while I lifted my hips off him.
“Thayne, open your eyes! What’s going on?”
His head lolled to the side. His eyelids fluttered once, twice, then nothing.
I turned him fully onto his stomach. And that was when I saw it.
A deep, ragged wound carved across his lower back, long, ugly, the edges blackened and weeping.
I’d been raking my nails over it the entire time we were fucking, thinking it was just another bruise, another mark from the chaos.
I’d scratched open already torn flesh like some mindless, dirty slut chasing pleasure while he bled out beneath me.
The skin around the gash was turning green, bubbling and blistering like it was cooking from the inside. The edges foamed, a thin yellow-green pus seeping out with every shallow breath he took.
Poison.
He’d sustained this wound back in New York. It looked like a slash from a knife fight. If I was right, the knife had been poisoned.