Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
His hand snakes through the bars of the cage and around the back of my neck, pulling me forward to kiss me. “My captive,” he says as he breaks away from the kiss. I push towards him, and the cold metal of the bars makes me shiver. “I’m the king of this club, and if you want your freedom, you’re going to have to earn it.”
My stomach drops with that same desperate need that’s become so familiar around him. That same fantasy in very different circumstances. This feels more solid, more real. This isn’t a game of pretend, this is me and Cole. This is his eyes on me. This is me giving my body to him. God, yes. Cole’s fingers graze my jaw as he retreats, sitting on the couch in the middle of the room. Anyone looking would think he’s utterly relaxed, but I can feel his eyes on me, and I know that he’s never been more focused.
I’m glad he’s across the room, not close enough to see the blush that heats my cheeks, doubts and confusion crowding my mind as quickly as the arousal that’s flowing through me. I’m naked and locked in a cage while he watches. How’s it possible that I find this so hot? I almost laugh. Why not? With the things that go on in this club, I’d have to ask that question a hundred times. Just because it’s not something that everyone does doesn’t make it wrong or weird. The people that frequent Club Deep are a testament to that. None of them would bat an eye seeing a girl naked in a cage. More than a few would stop to watch. They’d find it…sexy.
My body relaxes, and I listen to the music of the club. It’s a sensual rhythm—one made for hips to move against each other, grinding, pulsing, thrusting, sex. I try to imagine that instead of being in a cage across from him, I’m in the middle of that dance floor with Cole. What would I do? How would I touch him? How would I dance for him? I put those thoughts into my head as I begin to move. I use the small space of the cage to my advantage, using the bars to steady myself. Leaning and twisting and pressing. I let myself go and it feels like I become the music, my body an extension of the rhythm moving through the air.
And through everything, Cole watches me, and I watch him. It feels like we’re connected across the space by something visceral and physical. I can feel my wetness running down my legs as I dance, and the longer I’m in the cage, the more aroused I become. I want to earn whatever he has planned for me. Rolling my body against the bars of the cage, I watch as Cole unbuckles his belt and frees his cock. I watch as he begins to stroke himself, his eyes never leaving mine.
He starts slowly, gripping the base of his cock with his fingers and pulling upwards, and then pulling downwards. It’s slow and sensual, and my body instinctually moves with him, rolling and twisting to the tempo of his fingers. And then it’s his whole hand, curling around his shaft, tempo and desperation rising the longer we stare at each other. Even though I’m free and dancing, I feel bound by him—bound by his eyes and his hand and his desire to watch me.
I’m not sure how long we stay like that: Me dancing, Cole stroking. It seems like we’ve been like this for only a few seconds, and also forever.
Cole stands, hand still on his cock. He approaches the cage slowly, and I slow my dance, deliberately teasing him as he approaches. Closer and closer he comes, until he’s standing directly in front of the bars. Until he’s pressed against them, cock reaching through. All it takes is a raised eyebrow from him to send me to my knees. I know how I’m going to earn my freedom.
I reach out to touch him, running my fingers along his skin and tracing everything from the head to the base. He hisses out a breath and I grin up at him. If he’s going to make me earn my freedom, then I’m going to make sure I tease him. I brush my lips across the tip, just touching. It’s a split second decision, but I decide to do everything slowly—I want him in delicious agony.
The tip of my tongue draws a slow line around his head, dragging across the top, tasting the salty precum already leaking from him. I draw lines up and down his shaft, lapping at his skin as slowly as I can. Glancing up, I see that Cole’s eyes are closed and his hands are fisted around the bars of the cage. He’s gripping the metal so hard that his knuckles are white, and I smile because I know that my plan is working.