Page 80 of Promise of Punishment

“If you don’t like it,” Wes says. “I won’t be⁠—”

I silence him with a kiss. “I love it. I love you.” The saltiness of my tears lingers on my tongue.

His beautiful face brightens with my confession, eyes filled with so much joy. “To be clear, that’s a yes? Yeah?”

Wes

She giggles. “Yes.”

I set the box on the table and slide the ring onto her finger. “I helped design it, but I had a diamond fitted too, in case you want the center jewel replaced. I almost requested a moss-covered stone for the center,” I tease.

She giggles again.

It’s the best sound, almost as incredible as the way her gorgeous face glows when she’s this happy.

I run my fingers through her silky hair, and pull her to my lips, kissing her passionately with my tongue before going deeper and getting caught up the way I often do when it comes to Fable.

“How do you feel, my love?” I murmur across her lips, noting her faster breathing and heated skin. Her cast is still on, but if she’s up for it, I’d be willing to tie her to my bed. The doctor I hired to make house calls says she’s able to do whatever she feels up to now. Her cast gets removed tomorrow. I was going to wait, but…

“I feel horny,” she says and giggles. “Like really horny, and my nipples are so sensitive.”

My dick jumps to attention. Fuck me. “How would you like me to help with that?” I love being able to talk to her in my accent with no mask and clearly stare into her eyes, watching every little tell. The way her pupils dilate, her cheeks flush, and the rosy hue that spreads up her neck.

She glances at the bed. “You can help by doing naughty things to me.”

My angel and vixen.

In a swift move, I scoop her up from the chair and place her on the bed, sideways. She gasps, knowing what it means. I secure her wrists in the silk sashes and do the same to her ankle and cast.

“Good?”

“Good.” She pants, already desperate for it. “But… my clothes.” She glances at her grey loose-fitted pants and dark green t-shirt, the fabric so delicate it’s almost see-through.

New clothes in any color of her choice are on my to-do list. I want to see her in a variety of things that she was robbed of throughout her life because of her selfish family. But right now, I want to see her in nothing at all.

From the nightstand, I remove scissors from the drawer and run them down her torso. “Trust me.”

She shivers with desire, so I take a moment to gently circle the steel tip around her beaded nipple, hidden under her shirt. She sucks in a sharp breath. “Very sensitive. I’m going to have fun with that Fable.”

I position the scissors at the hem of her shirt. “May I?”

“Yes,” she breathes, restless in her binds.

I cut her clothes off and run the cold tip of the scissors around her bare nipple. She moans. “Wes. I need you. Now.”

“Now?” I tease her. “But we’re just getting started.” She looks stunning, her honey skin flushed and on display for me. The small patch of hair at her pussy is not something I’m used to, and a turn-on. I like it in ways I hadn’t expected. But then it’s on Fable, and I love everything about this woman. I bend to her clit and kiss it. At the same time, I run a finger up her glistening slit.

“Mmm.” I moan and lick her from my finger. “You taste delicious, Fable.”

She writhes and fusses, “Wes. Please. Fuck me already.”

“I’d love to, darling, and I will, but first…” I lower to her dripping pussy and enjoy her with my tongue as I strip off my clothes. Her hips thrust toward my mouth, chasing it, but her restraints keep her from getting what she thinks she wants. Fable wants the orgasm, but she gets a better one—one worthy of her—because of the foreplay and how I make her wait. She’s so responsive, if I were to shove my cock in her now, she’d come in an instant. It wouldn’t nearly be as potent as it could be.

Fable

My skin burns with desire, my body so ready it literally aches for relief. I pull against the sashes, loving them but also hating them at this moment. His tongue flicks my clit, and his fingers slide inside, pumping in and out. I feel my core grip them tight, trying to draw them deeper. So close. He pauses, and I almost yell at him. He hasn’t touched my nipples again, even though I’m dying for him to. The way he circled them with those cold scissors nearly made me explode.

“I don’t want the ties anymore,” I blurt. “Cut me loose.”