Veils of Rivalry Chapter 90: Epilogue 4

Blaise's POV

“Next time your phone dies, I’ll have no choice but to punish you.”

Cole’s throat jumps on a swallow, and I tighten my hold and then unzip my jeans with the hand holding the knife. My fingers drop by my side, and I jerk my chin. “Get my cock out.”

Cole wastes no time pulling my jeans down to reveal my aching dick. The moment it bobs free, he wets his lips and stares at the angry veins and weeping head with so much longing, it’s by some fucking miracle I manage to resist the urge to ram it down his throat.

My husband has always had a natural submissive streak in him, even before he admitted to his feelings for me, and it gets me so hard every damn time. He flicks his eyes up and watches me drag my tongue through the blood on the knife’s flat end. I make sure to leave some on my chin, knowing how carnal it makes Cole when I look monstrous.

Closing my hand over the blade, I drag it across my palm and form a tight fist. Blood soon drips to the ground.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Cole shivers visibly when I fist my dick.

Stroking in long pulls from root to tip, I use the knife to shift some of his dark hair away from his brow. “Show me how much you want your husband’s dick. What a needy slut you are.” I release my cock and tilt my head to the side. Patience has never been my strongest virtue.

He grabs me by the hips and sucks on the head—a move that drives me insane because it’s not enough. I’m not happy unless my crown is smashing against his damn tonsils. He knows it, which is why he’s being a brat now.

I entertain his games for all of two seconds, then say, “Unless you want it to hurt when I take your ass, I suggest you lick it clean of blood. Get it nice and wet.”

Quiet chuckles rumble through his chest at the sound of the barely veiled frustration in my voice, and he takes me deeper, staring up at me as he slowly sinks lower on my cock.

“Shit,” I grunt, fisting his matted hair with my bloodied hand. “You’re so fucking hot on your knees with my dick in your mouth.”

His tongue swirls, and his cheeks hollow. This is what it feels like to have one’s soul sucked from the body. Shivers rush through me, and I grit my teeth against the blinding pleasure that threatens to confiscate my control.

“Fuck,” I groan, my head falling back, my hips stuttering.

Cole swallows around my dick and slides his hand from my hip. My breath hitches when he pushes a single finger against my back hole, breaching the tight entrance.

It’s all it takes. After all these years, my husband knows how to play me like an instrument.

I pull out and yank his head back to bare his neck. He hisses at the sharp hold I keep on his hair, but I don’t ease up. If he can be a fucking brat, he can sure as hell take a little pain while I jerk my dick in front of his face.

With his hands fisted at his sides, he stares up at me. Cole has expressive eyes.

Eyes that goad me to give him my worst.

Fuck…

Cum erupts from my dick, and I clamp my teeth together, quivering from the strength of the orgasm. It goes on forever. At least that’s what it feels like. I struggle to stay upright.

Strings of cum rain over Cole’s face while I hold him prisoner with my death grip on his hair. There’s something inherently carnal about seeing him covered in my release.

Shoving him away, panting hard, I run a hand through my sweaty hair, almost forgetting the mask I’m still wearing. I circle a finger through the air. “Turn around.”

Cole obediently shuffles until he’s facing away from me, and I fist his dark hair. He barely manages to suppress a sharp hiss when I pull on the strands. I’m not gentle. Hurting him turns us both on.

My spent dick is already thinking about another round, so I give it a helping hand, stroking the thickening length while pulling and tugging on Cole’s hair. He tries hard to keep his pathetic little whimpers under control, but fails miserably. Pain has always been his Achilles heel—the one thing that will make him putty in my hands.

Releasing him, I toss the knife on the forest floor, then pull the belt from the loops, ensuring he can hear the seductive slide and clank of the belt, and then I secure it around his neck before slowly lowering myself to my knees behind him.

“Do you want my cock?”

“Y-yes.”

“Is that so?” I taunt near his ear before removing my mask and sucking and nibbling on the lobe. I bite down hard, and Cole nearly comes on the spot. “Hands behind your back.”

When he doesn’t immediately cooperate, I reach into my back pocket, pull out the cheap handcuffs I got from a sketchy website, then secure his wrists one handed. Cole struggles for the first time tonight, but it only excites me more.

The latch finally clicks into place with such finality, I’m surprised the sleeping birds don’t wake up and erupt from the branches overhead.

Cole tries to look at me over his shoulder as he wrings his wrists to escape the cuffs. It’s fruitless. While they’re cheap, I’ve already double and triple checked their durability. No scared, aroused husbands can escape these bad boys.

I lean in close to his ear again and whisper, “Now, be a good boy and open your mouth.”

This time, he obeys, and I waste no time placing the small key on his tongue. “I’m gonna fuck you so damn hard, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. Try not to swallow the key, alright? If you do, you have to explain to the paramedics how you ended up swallowing the key to the handcuffs.” My voice drops. “…with my cum dried on your face, and leaking out of your ass.”

I can feel him stiffen, and it makes me chuckle.

Reaching between our bodies, I tease his butt crack with my dick. “Such a good fucking boy, Cole, playing my twisted games. Don’t do anything stupid. If you spit the key out, I won’t let you come. Not today, not tomorrow, not the day after. Remember the last time I denied you an orgasm?”

He stays silent, unable to talk with the key to his freedom resting on his tongue. I bet his mouth is filling with saliva.

I release my dick and reach into my other back pocket to retrieve the sachet of lube. I tear it with my teeth, spit the torn corner on the ground, and squeeze a healthy dose onto my fingers. The cool liquid threatens to slide to the forest floor. I lube up his back hole, smiling to myself as he trembles from the contact.

“I didn’t let you come for two weeks. This time, I’ll leave it a month.”

Cole whimpers pitifully and shakes his head. If he didn’t have the key on his tongue, he would beg and plead for me to fuck him. If that didn’t work, he’d try to push my jealous buttons. That’s a neat little trick in his back pocket that always gets his way when we play our cat-and-mouse sexual games.