Taken By Terror by Lolita Lopez

Chapter Twenty-One

Maisie stared at her reflection and adjusted her new wig. The silky cerulean strands were styled in a sharp, angular bob that accentuated her cheekbones and eyes. Terror had asked for permission to dress her tonight, and she had enthusiastically agreed. His selections from the ship’s clothing boutique didn’t disappoint.

She stepped back for a better look at the black dress she wore. It was scandalously short, barely covering her bottom, and had a deep V neck that dipped almost to her navel. Not wearing panties or a bra left her feeling both vulnerable and excited.

Terror appeared behind her in the mirror’s reflection. He looked her up and down and then possessively grabbed her hips. He buried his face along the curve of her neck, kissing and nipping and licking while his hand moved under her dress to cup her mound. She panted and shuddered when his fingers stroked between her labia, finding her clitoris and circling it with teasingly slow strokes. Their gazes clashed in the mirror, and she could see that he wasn’t going to let her climax.

Terror kissed her cheek and then turned her head so he could claim her mouth. He spun her around and boxed her in against the floor length mirror. She clutched at his sides, enjoying the feel of the soft black fabric of his new shirt. He had gone with a black ensemble that made him look somehow more intimidating and sexier at the same time.

Terror eased off the kiss and traced her mouth. “Remember what we talked about?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“You keep your mask on at all times. You don’t use sign language in public. One squeeze for yes.” He squeezed her hand. “Two for no. You don’t wander off without me.”

She could see the tension in his face. He clearly wanted her to have a good time tonight, but he was also concerned for her safety. There were so many what-ifs, and even with their masks and her wig, they wouldn’t be too hard to identify if someone was looking for them. Terror had gone through the passenger manifest four times, combing through the list to make sure no one he had ever met was onboard. It wasn’t likely. This cruise line operated outside of Alliance control and oversight.

She stroked his jaw. “I promise. I’ll behave.”

“I know you will.” He seemed apologetic for reminding her of the rules yet again. He reached into his pocket and withdrew an azure lace mask. He carefully draped it across her face and tied it in place. She turned back to the mirror to admire it. Behind her, he put on his own mask that had a black mesh pattern that obscured his missing eye. Standing close, his hands on her shoulders, they looked amazing together.

Terror kissed her right cheek and then the left before taking her hand and leading her out of their room. They made their way to the elevator and stepped into an empty car. As it descended, it began to fill up with couples dressed in similar outfits and masks. She noticed the way the men and women stepping into the elevator looked at her with obvious interest. Her confidence increased, and she no longer worried that she would look ridiculous at Terror’s side.

Trembling with excitement, she clung to Terror’s hand as they exited the elevator and joined the crowd moving toward the entrance of the Eros Club. There were signs on either side and above the door warning that guests were responsible for their own safety and the cruise line held zero liability for anything that happened once inside. She glanced at Terror who gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

They passed through the double doors and into a wide-open space with muted lighting. The main floor of the club was decorated in shades of purple and gray with gleaming dark wood accents. There were bars on each side of the room as well as seating areas. Toward the rear of the space, there was a grand staircase that led up to a second floor with multiple hallways.

She read the rules posted just inside the entrance in large and easy to read font in a handful of the most common languages. The diagrams next to the rules showed where certain types of kinky fun could be found in the club. There were some terms on the floor plan she didn’t know, but she couldn’t ask Terror without attracting the wrong kind of attention.

Completely new to this experience, Maisie trusted Terror to lead the way. Holding her hand, he weaved through the crowd to the nearest bar and ordered them both drinks. As they waited for the bartender to finish mixing them, she indulged her curiosity. All around them, people were laughing, touching and drinking. Some of them were more amorous than others. Everyone looked happy and carefree.

For one night, she wanted to feel that way. She wanted to have a drink, maybe dance and definitely do wild, wicked things with Terror. She didn’t want to think about the Splinters or Devious or any of the other bullshit that threatened their lives. She wanted to live.

Terror touched her arm and handed her a glass of something outrageously pink and fizzy. She cocked an eyebrow, and he said, “Trust me.”

She sipped the cocktail, expecting the unpalatable sear of black-market booze or the sour, stale bread aftertaste of beer. Her eyes widened as the delicious burst of ripe berries bubbled across her tongue. She grinned at Terror and took a bigger sip of the drink. He seemed pleased as he tasted his own glass. It was clear like water, but she could smell the alcoholic fumes wafting toward her. The corners of his mouth tightened when he swallowed, and she could only imagine how much it burned going down his throat.

With his hand on the small of her back, Terror led her to an out of the way oversized club chair. He sat first and then patted his lap, beckoning her to perch like a pretty little bird. She settled in, scooting back until they were pressed as close together as possible. He draped one arm around her waist and let his hand curve along her thigh, his fingers brushing featherlight along her sensitive skin.

Any higher, and his hand would move enough of her skirt out of the way to show everyone in the room that she was bare underneath. Somehow that made her feel even more excited. It was naughty in the most wonderfully delicious way.

As she enjoyed her drink and his body heat, Maisie watched the crowd. She couldn’t hear the music, but it was so loud and had enough bass that it thumped through her chest. Some of the dance moves on the floor were vulgar, but no one seemed to mind. After a lifetime tucked away and forbidden from having any kind of relationship, Maisie found it jarring to see other couples touching and squeezing and kissing like that. Admittedly, she was a bit jealous of their freedom.

The combinations of trios and even quads intrigued her. Two men or two women together wasn’t anything unusual. Seeing three and four lovers dancing so sensually left her pondering the logistics of such a relationship. Was there jealousy? Did they share equally? Were some things off-limits? What happened if they wanted to have children? Did they share responsibilities? Or did their arrangements only extend to the bedroom and nowhere else?

For a moment, she tried to imagine having two Terrors to love her. As intense as he was, she wasn’t sure she could handle that much attention. I think one is enough for me.

But was it enough for Terror? He had spoken of his love for her in absolute terms. He wanted her and only her. Thinking of how much experience he had, she began to fear that she might not ever be enough. Sometimes, he overwhelmed her with his rough, fiery passion. She could see how easily he might grow bored with her.

She glanced back at him, and his eye sparked with understanding. It was as if he could read her mind and see her doubts as if they were written upon her face. He shook his head and kissed her neck and cheek. His hand tightened on her thigh, and she closed her eyes and leaned back against him. I’m enough.

When they finished their drinks, Terror handed the empty glasses off to a passing waiter and gave her hip a pat. They stood, and he took her hand again, leading her away from the dance floor toward the wide staircase. She wasn’t used to walking in heels so she held onto his arm for balance, not wanting to tumble down and ruin their night.

At the top of the stairs, Terror chose the hallway on the right. All of the rooms lining this hall were doorless. Their wide-open entrances encouraged those seeking an education to step inside and watch. They spent a little time moving from room to room, but she wasn’t particularly interested in watching other people be spanked or bound in ropes.

Terror seemed to sense she wasn’t keen on the educational offerings, and he steered them away from that hall to explore another. These doors were closed and had screens displaying symbols on them. Above each door were two lights, one red and one green. She glanced at Terror, and he explained, “The lights let us know if the people inside are open to new people coming in to watch or join in on the fun. The symbols tell us what exactly is going on behind that door.”

He let her wander from green light to green light until she found a screen that piqued her curiosity. She couldn’t imagine what the tiara and kneeling figure meant. Something to do with royalty? Maybe a role-playing game?

“This one?” Terror asked when he noticed her pause.

She nodded and gave his hand a squeeze. She caught the briefest hint of a smile, as if he knew a secret, before he took the lead and opened the door. They stepped inside the room, and she let her eyes adjust to the warm glow of amber lamps and flameless candles. There was a great deal of red in the room. Red walls, red linens, red upholstery. Everything else was black or muted shades of gray.

Terror meandered through the small crowd that had gathered in the room. There weren’t more than two dozen people there and almost all of them were men. She wondered why the audience skewed male—until she got her first glimpse of what was happening in the center of the room.

Oh.

The tiara suddenly made sense. The room was dedicated to women being worshipped like queens!

There were two women on display, one suspended in a swing contraption and the other sitting on a padded chair that had a large cutout in the seat. Flat on his back under the chair, a man with bound hands and ankles licked at the woman’s vulva. She was displayed for all to see, her swollen, wet labia glistening under the lights. The man’s tongue fluttered along her sex with such enthusiasm it made Maisie squirm.

It was one thing to see people dancing, touching and kissing. It was quite another to be so close to a couple having sex that she could see the most private parts of them. She had only just gotten comfortable with Terror seeing her completely naked. This experience was beyond anything she understood, and it left her flustered and a bit hot.

The longer she watched, the less guilty she felt about intruding. The less guilty she felt, the more her body reacted to the scene. Voyeurism hadn’t ever been something she had considered as one of her possible kinks, but maybe it should have been on her list of things to explore. She shifted her weight between feet and bit her lip as she felt suddenly slick and aroused.

Did Terror know she was getting excited? Could he see her flushed skin in this light? Could he smell the change in her scent?

Maisie’s eyes widened as the woman on the chair leaned forward, pressing her pussy to the bound man’s mouth. There was nothing gentle about her movement. She aggressively clasped a fistful of the man’s blond hair and held his tongue right where she wanted it. She rocked her hips, grinding herself on his mouth as if he were a toy that only existed for her pleasure.

And maybe he did. Maisie studied the man’s body language. He seemed completely relaxed and utterly devoted to his task. He wanted to be used. He wanted to serve his queen.

She pictured herself straddling Terror like that, grabbing his hair and riding his mouth until her toes curled and her body shook with ecstasy. He would let her if she asked. He would probably encourage it. Even though their relationship was largely traditional with him as the dominant personality, there was something curiously exhilarating about the idea of being in control of him.

Maisie turned her head to better see the woman reclining on the swing. Four men worshipped her body. Two of them obsessed over her feet, licking, sucking and biting her toes, while another knelt between her legs and performed oral sex. The fourth kissed her mouth and fondled her breasts.

Maisie gulped as red-hot flares of arousal burned straight to her core. She tried to imagine the sensory overload of having four men touching and tasting at once. From the expression on the woman’s face, she seemed to be having the time of her life. Gripping onto Terror’s arm, she watched the four men drive the woman wild. She couldn’t hear the woman’s cries of pleasure but it was obvious when she climaxed.

Maisie’s breaths came faster and shallower as the men changed places and the older of the four knelt down to pleasure the woman. From the way he gripped her thighs and brushed his hand over the gentle slope of her belly, it was clear he was her man. He touched her with the confident knowledge of a lover who knew her body as well as his own. She brushed her fingers through his short silver hair and smiled, her lips moving with the sweetest words. Maisie’s face heated as she understood what the woman had likely meant only for her man.

Terror stepped behind her, his bigger body dwarfing hers. One of his powerful arms slid around her front, clamping her back to his chest. She rested her chin on his sinewed forearm as her gaze darted between the competing scenes. Her clitoris actually pulsed as she grew more and more excited by what was happening.

Terror’s fingertips slipped under the gauzy drape of the dress’s plunging neckline. She shivered when he brushed her nipple. He outlined the dusky peak with frustratingly slow movements. When she squirmed, he palmed her entire breast in his rough hand and gave her a warning squeeze. Her flare of annoyance was quickly overcome by the knee-shaking sensations his thumb caused when it flicked over her pebbled nipple in the same way he liked to rub her clit.

But then his other hand grasped her hip, pulling her bottom against his thighs, and her frustration was forgotten. He walked them slowly back toward a wall, hiding them in the red shear curtains falling from the ceiling. She noticed they weren’t the only couple seeking privacy in the shadows, but she averted her gaze, not wanting to pry into someone else’s tryst.

Terror skimmed his mouth along her neck, and she closed her eyes, focusing solely on the feel of his hands and mouth on her skin. His hand snaked under her dress, baring a scandalous amount of thigh and probably even a quick peek at the curls hidden there. He masterfully ran his fingertip along her labia, swiping right toward her clit. She pressed back against him and held onto his forearm, terrified she would collapse when she came.

She was embarrassingly wet. On edge for so long, she was practically dripping. His fingers slipped through her heat, and she bit her lower lip to stifle any cries. Her thighs clenched, and she let her gaze fall on the women being pleasured by men who adored them.

Like me.

She dug her nails into Terror’s arm as the first fluttering waves of her climax spread through her lower belly. Terror abandoned her breasts and cupped her cheek, forcing her to look up and over her shoulder toward him. He crashed his mouth to hers, swallowing her whimpers. She shuddered as his deft fingers drew out her orgasm.

When the waves of pleasure dissipated, she sagged against him. He covered her pussy in a surprisingly tender gesture and stroked her face and neck with his other hand. He gazed down at her with pleasure in his expression. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy bringing her to orgasm.

She wanted to return the favor, but he didn’t appear to be in any rush. Carefully, he removed his hand and fixed her skirt. She tried not to be embarrassed by the shiny evidence clinging to his fingers or the unmistakable musk of sex surrounding them. No one seemed to even notice as Terror plucked a disposable wipe from a box on a nearby table to tidy up his hands.

Will I ever get used to this? She couldn’t imagine Terror would want to give up these kinds of clubs and experiences. As long as they were together, nights like these would be regular occurrences. As strange as it was this first time, she could see herself learning to enjoy a night of wicked sexual play.

“Come,” Terror said and clasped her hand. She happily stepped to his side, wondering what new and thrilling thing he would show her next. Out in the hallway, she moved closer, seeking his protection when they passed a leering group of men. Terror smoothly stepped in front and to her right side, shielding her from their hungry gazes. He curved his arm around her waist, his palm spanning her hip and gave her a reassuring pat.

Glad for his care, she noticed how their fellow passengers were rowdier as the night progressed. Alcohol, arousal and titillation had driven them all wild. Not sure she wanted to get close to the dance floor, she glanced at Terror. His steady gaze scanned the room, always looking for trouble and exits. He probably had an entire battle plan in mind if things got crazy. Even though weapons were banned from the club, she wasn’t worried about him defending them. She had seen enough of him to know that the most innocuous thing could become a weapon in his skilled hands.

Terror turned toward a dazzling violet door. He swiped their keycard to gain entrance and ushered her through first. This private hallway had slightly brighter, cooler lighting. He stopped in front of door number nine and used the keycard to access it again. When he stepped aside and gestured for her to enter, she hesitated. A little nervous, she glanced up at him, and his expression softened. He caressed her cheek. “Trust me, Maisie.”

She gave his hand a squeeze and walked into the room. The overhead lights were very bright, and she winced at the sudden change. At first glance, the space looked like any other mid-tier hotel room. It wasn’t until she actually looked at the room that the interesting details became clear. There was no bed, for one. The cabinets on the walls had symbols painted on them. She inspected the closest cabinet, wondering what the oversized exclamation point meant. When she opened it, she found a selection of canes in various lengths and thicknesses. Scared of the painful snap of a cane, she hastily closed the cabinet.

Behind her, Terror had closed and secured the door. He stood at the control panel, adjusting the lights and temperature. When the lights were dimmer and warmer, he turned to face her. After removing his mask and throwing it aside on a black sofa, he folded his arms behind his back, tucking them away as if about to address a subordinate.

Oh.

Oh.

Surprised by his desire to show her this side of himself, she swallowed nervously. So far, they had been intimate without the structure and expected obedience of a dominant over his submissive. Of course, she understood that at some point, he would want that. Probably. Most likely. She hadn’t expected it tonight, though.

Terror could read her so easily. “It’s your choice, Maisie. Everything we do or don’t do is your choice. Always.”

She nodded and wished she had a tablet or paper so she could talk things out with him. Wasn’t that the way it was supposed to go? Discussions about limits and rules and safe words? At least, that’s how it usually went in the erotic books she liked to read whenever she could get her hands on them.

Of course, those were fiction, made up stories to excite and entertain. This was real life. This was Terror. Other than the unfortunate miscommunication the first time they had attempted sex, he had been extremely careful with her. Even now, he still seemed to feel incredible guilt about the way he had assumed she was ready and caused her pain. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

And, if she was being completely honest with herself, she wanted to give him complete control. She wanted to kneel at his feet and allow him to make all the decisions. She wanted to let go and feel without guilt, without questioning whether she was bad or dirty for liking something wildly kinky. She wanted to feel treasured and protected and adored.

Terror studied her intently. He was excellent at hiding his real emotions, but she knew that slight stiffness in his jaw and the twitch of his ruined eyebrow betrayed his uncertainty. He was afraid of being rejected or of scaring her by asking too much too soon. Couldn’t he see how much she loved him? Trusted him?

Wanting to make that clear to him right then and there, she held his intense gaze and removed her mask. She let it slip from her fingers and knelt. She wasn’t quite sure of the proper technique for presenting herself, but she did know that placing her hands on her thighs and turning her palms up toward him meant she wanted to serve. She adjusted her hands, never breaking eye contact, and silently offered her submission.

Terror inhaled a deep breath, his shoulders lifting and his expression losing some of the tension. He stepped closer and ran his thumb along her cheek and jaw. He traced her lips and smiled down at her. “I love you, Maisie.”

Certain the rules about sign language didn’t matter here where no one else could see them, she signed back her answer. “I love you.”

He repeated the gesture and bent down to claim her mouth with a tender kiss. When he straightened, he gestured to his clothing. “Undress me.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, hoping he would figure out the meaning. Standing, she wobbled a bit on her slightly uncomfortable heels.

“Are you okay?” Terror’s hand was on her elbow in an instant, steadying her. He knelt down to help her out of her shoes first. He set them aside and studied her feet. “No more heels for you. Your feet are still so tender from your time in the prison camps.”

“I know.” She frowned down at them. “They’re not nearly as pretty as the ones the woman in the swing has,” she added with a bit a sadness.

Terror obviously couldn’t understand everything she had said, but he seemed to comprehend that she was complaining or comparing herself to someone else. “Your feet are perfect, and if you want, I'll worship them like those men back in the queening suite.”

She made a face. “Ew! Gross! No!”

He laughed and then shook his head. “Okay. We’ll cross foot fetish off your list of possibilities.”

“Yes. Definitely!”

Terror pressed a loving kiss to her belly. “Prude.”

She feigned outrage as he rose to his full height. Her stomach did that funny little swooping thing when he towered over her like that. Remembering his instruction, she undressed him. She carefully folded each piece of clothing she removed and set it safely aside on the couch. She made sure his socks were neatly placed into his shoes and then returned for her next instruction.

“Take this off,” he ordered, flicking the flimsy dress.

It was simple enough to remove, and she dragged it up and over her head. She placed it next to his pile of clothing along with her discarded shoes. When she turned back toward him, he pointed at the floor in front of him. “Kneel.”

She knelt at his feet in a smooth motion that she hoped pleased him. On her knees, she was at eye level with his cock. She had already had him in her mouth twice and enjoyed the act, especially when he shuddered under her tongue and made her feel like the most powerful woman in the universe. So, she wasn’t at all disappointed when he asked her to suck on him.

Grasping his thick shaft, she swiped her tongue along the underside of it. When she reached the tip, she pulled it between her lips and lavished it with attention. His hands flexed at his sides as she fluttered her tongue around his crown and sucked him lightly. She teased him with small kisses up and down his length before taking him deeper. She held him in the warmth of her mouth and lifted her gaze to meet his stormy one. His nostrils flared, and he swallowed down a shaky breath as she eased off his shaft and let him see her tongue flicking at him.

“Arms behind your back,” he ordered, and she smoothly complied. “You can use them if you need to ask me to stop.”

She nodded even though she doubted she would need that allowance. There were men who would take advantage, but not him. She sat back on her heels and opened her mouth, exaggerating its wideness and sticking out her tongue as an invite. His sexy grin made her belly flip, and she welcomed his cock.

Terror took his time enjoying her mouth. He placed his hand on the back of her shockingly blue wig and thrust his hips. She breathed around the girth stretching her lips and let her body relax as she served him. He tested her limits, sometimes thrusting deep enough to make her eyes water slightly and other times thrusting fast enough to make her gasp. Every time, he rewarded her with soft caresses and a smile. The more he pushed her comfort level, the more excited she became.

After his deepest thrust that she accepted with a moan of encouragement, he pulled free from her mouth. He crouched down and kissed her swollen lips. He was ravenous in his attack, his tongue stabbing against hers until she broke the rules and clutched at his arms. He growled, the rough sounds rattling against her lips, and stood suddenly.

When his hands pressed her forehead toward the ground, she gasped with surprise. He moved behind her, but she kept her head down, her forearms flat on the cold tile floor. He grasped her hips and canted her ass higher. His touch electrified her, and her core clenched with need. She knew what was coming, and she wanted it. She wanted it bad.

His big hand bounced off her right cheek and then her left. She cried out at the pain blossoming under his palm. When her bottom was hot and red, he stopped spanking her and slid a finger down her slit. She whimpered as his fingers swirled around her clit and then dipped into her. He moved closer, and she closed her eyes with anticipation.

The head of his cock breached her pussy, and she sighed with sheer pleasure. As if mindful of the first time he had tried to take her this way, he was careful as he entered her. He eased in a few teasing inches and then withdrew almost completely before sliding forward again. Once he was slick with her arousal, he started to fuck her.

And it was fucking. Raw. Rough. Hard. Not the tender lovemaking or sleepy, slow sex they had shared. This was primal. He pounded into her as she tried to maintain her balance on her hands and knees. She pushed back to meet his strokes, wanting to feel all of him, and he smacked her bottom again and again. His hand bounced off the sides of her thighs, leaving new burning handprints on her untouched skin.

When he grabbed both of her shoulders, anchoring her to him in the most intimate way, she cried out. It felt so good. Better than anything else she had ever experienced. Every nerve-ending she possessed flared to life, leaving her tingling and hot. Desperate to come, she fought the urge to touch herself. Only the reminder that this was about him and not her kept her hands planted firmly on the floor. Instead, she surrendered completely and lost herself in the sensation of being a vessel that existed only to please him.

Without warning, Terror pulled free and snatched her right up off the floor. She yelped with shock as he manhandled her, carrying her across the room to a section of the wall with straps and cuffs. He bound her wrists high over her head, glancing at her briefly to make sure she gave consent. She nodded enthusiastically, and he gave the pulley attached to the cuffs a yank. Her arms were lifted higher, forcing her onto the tips of her toes.

Stretched out and fully at his mercy, she warily eyed him as he moved to a nearby cabinet with a lightning bolt symbol on it. Whatever was inside that cabinet was likely to be unpleasant. A quiver of fear struck her heart, and she wondered if she had the courage to take what he wanted to give.

Her gaze drifted down to his cock. Thick and erect, it glistened with her wetness. His chest and shoulders were covered in a sheen of sweat. Seemingly mad with lust, Terror removed a strange looking device from the cabinet and closed it. The handheld wand had a glass tube with a globe shaped tip. She had never seen anything like it and swallowed nervously. What, exactly, did that thing do?

“We’re going to try this. If you don’t like it, you tell me no, and we’re done. No questions asked. No guilt. No worry. Understood?”

Maisie gulped again and nodded.

Terror flicked a switch on the wand, and it zinged to life. The clear glass tube glowed violet, the light so bright and pure she couldn’t stand to look at it directly. He made sure she was watching as he held out his palm and brought the tip of the wand close to his hand. A sudden arc of electricity jumped from the wand to his hand!

Stunned, she watched the microscopic lightning storm that passed between his hand and the glass tube. She glanced at his face to see if he was experiencing pain but didn’t see any signs. Wanting to show her that the wand wasn’t going to seriously hurt her, he touched his arm, stomach, chest and even his cheek. Even though he clearly had a high pain tolerance from his lifetime of war, the cheek made him flinch a little.

Maisie steeled herself for a hellish jolt of pain as Terror approached her. He held her nervous gaze while bringing the wand close to her upper arm, causing the fine hair there to stand on end. A tingling itchy sensation spread along her skin as the wand moved even closer. A snap of energy darted between the wand and her arm, and she gasped at the bizarre sensation. It wasn’t painful exactly, but it wasn’t altogether enjoyable either.

Yet, she found herself leaning toward the wand. She wanted to feel the snap and bite again. Terror grinned and obliged her silent request, using the wand to zap her arms, shoulder, belly and thighs. His left hand started at her knee and swept up toward the juncture of her legs. He curved two fingers deep inside her pussy and used his thumb to brush against her throbbing clit. Thrusting and stroking, he worked her closer and closer to an orgasm all while tormenting her with the vicious little wand.

She gasped with every snap of electricity and shuddered with the aftershocks of the stinging bite. The combination of pleasure and pain left her reeling. She swung from one extreme to the other.

Pain. Pleasure.

No. Yes.

More. Stop.

Please.

Up on her toes, she arched into him, desperate for more stimulation. He shook his head and removed the hand between her thighs. Before she could protest, he tapped the wand against her mons. She screamed at the unexpected zing of electricity that zipped along her already aching clitoris. It was the most incredible thing she had ever felt, simultaneously good and bad in the most confusing but exciting way.

Terror dropped down to his knees and nuzzled his face against her. He smiled indulgently up at her before swiping his tongue through her pussy. She cried out and let her head drop back against the cold wall. The strain on her wrists was starting to hurt, but Terror must have anticipated that because he gently guided her legs up and over his shoulders. With her weight now supported, she was able to close her eyes and enjoy Terror’s mouth.

She started to shake as the waves of pleasure built deep inside her. Her thighs tensed on either side of his head. She grasped the tethers attaching the wrist cuffs to the wall and prayed they wouldn’t come loose. Terror’s tongue lapped at a frustratingly deliberate pace. He knew exactly what he was doing, delaying her orgasm like that. His sensual torments had no bounds.

When he sucked on her clit, she nearly died. Her heart skipped a beat, and her breaths stuttered. He repeated the suction again and again and then fluttered his tongue around the bud. That was all it took to set her off like a rocket.

With a strangled cry, she came. She went stiff like a board as every muscle in her body contracted with extreme pleasure. She rocked her hips against his face, not caring that the motion made her abs burn or her wrists ache. A sudden zap on her bottom caused another wild flare of ecstasy. Terror touched the wand to her ass and thighs while licking through her climax, forcing her body to give up another orgasm that left her delirious with joy.

When he finally tore his mouth away from her, she had tears in her eyes and could hardly breathe. He shrugged her thighs off his shoulders, catching her by the hips and lifting her stinging bottom to the correct angle. He was so hard he didn’t have to guide himself into her. He simply thrust and slid home. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he started to fuck up into her. He tucked his face against her neck, biting and kissing, before pushing her back against the wall.

Terror used the extra support of the wall to reach up and loosen the cuffs binding her wrists. With her arms now free, she curled them around his broad shoulders and held on tight. Terror gripped her bottom in both hands, squeezing and digging his fingertips into her. He wasn’t holding back this time. He chased his release like a predator on prey.

Cheek to cheek, they clutched and groaned together. She clawed at his shoulders and neck. His strong pulse pounded under her fingertips, and it thrilled her to know she could make him this wild. She felt the unexpected flutter of another orgasm approaching. Not wanting to lose the feeling, she squeezed his cock as it slid in and out of her core. Just a little more. A little more...

She screamed with ecstasy, and he roared his release. As he shuddered against her, he braced one hand on the wall and kissed her neck. Her pussy milked him for every last drop of seed. She clung to him, overwhelmed by what they had just shared. It was unlike anything she had ever imagined was possible between lovers.

Feeling such adoration for this man who had saved her again and again, she kissed his face, his ears, his mouth. Wanting him to know how much she loved him, she offered him something she never gave to anyone—her voice.

Holding his loving gaze, she gathered her courage and said, “Terror.”

He stiffened with shock. She was sure she had made a mess of his name, bungling the sounds and shapes of the letters with her unskilled tongue and lips. Wanting to try again to make sure he understood, she said, “Terror.”

Pure and unadulterated love shone in his lone eye. He brushed his fingertips along her cheek and touched his forehead to hers for a moment. “Maisie.”

“I love you,” she attempted, the words feelings so strange as she spoke them with her unpracticed mouth.

Terror didn’t even try to brush away the tear that dripped from his good eye. “I love you.”

Happier than she had ever been, Maisie rested her cheek against his shoulder and enjoyed the simple, sweet embrace they shared. Perfect, she thought contentedly. This night was absolutely perfect.