10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Iris

Elijah's body jerks sharply at the sudden pain, a hiss escaping through clenched teeth. I smirk, relishing his reaction.

"Sensitive, aren't we?" I purr, twisting his nipple again. This time he can't hold back a groan.

Stepping back, my hands go to the buttons of my blazer, slowly undoing them one by one. I shrug it off, letting it pool on the floor at my feet. Next comes my dress, the zipper sliding down with a soft hiss. I step out of it, now clad only in the emerald lingerie I'd teased Mason with earlier.

"Beautiful," Mason murmurs, his eyes raking over me appreciatively.

I turn back to Elijah, pressing my body flush against his. The contrast of his warm skin against the cool satin of my lingerie makes me shiver. I trace my fingers along his jaw, feeling the stubble there, before tangling them in his hair and yanking his head back.

"Are you ready to play, Elijah?" I breathe against his exposed throat.

His only response is a sharp intake of breath, but I can feel the rapid thud of his pulse beneath my lips as I press a kiss to his neck. I work my way down, alternating between soft kisses and sharp nips, leaving a trail of red marks in my wake.

When I reach his chest, I take one of his nipples between my teeth, biting down just hard enough to sting. Elijah jerks in his restraints, a muffled groan escaping him. I soothe the abused flesh with my tongue before moving to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment.

I spend the next while alternating between pleasure and pain–feather-light caresses followed by sharp pinches and scratches. Elijah writhes against his bonds, unable to predict where the next touch will land or whether it will soothe or sting.

His cock remains achingly hard, flushed and leaking. But each time he gets close to the edge, I back off, denying him release.

"Please," he finally gasps after I've edged him for the third time. "I need-"

I step away from him, removing all contact from his skin. His frustrated groan is music to my ears.

"I think it's time we got some work done, don't you darling?" I call to Mason.

He chuckles darkly. "By all means. I have some case files to review."

We settle into our usual routines–Mason spreading files out across our coffee table, me curled up with my laptop. But every so often, one of us will get up to torment Elijah further. A sharp slap to his thighs. Ice cubes dragged across sensitized skin. The vibration of a wand pressed against his cock until he's shaking and whimpering.

I review case files, making notes on the latest victim profiles. Mason takes a few work calls, his voice calm and professional as if he isn't standing naked next to a bound man. The normalcy of it all, juxtaposed with Elijah's predicament, sends a thrill through me.

Hours pass this way, Elijah suspended in a haze of denied pleasure and sporadic pain. By evening, he's a wreck - covered in a sheen of sweat, muscles trembling from exertion.

Mason removes his earplugs, leaning in close. "Still with us, pretty boy?"

He lets out a shaky laugh. "Unfortunately."

"Good," Mason purrs. "Because I want you to listen carefully."

Turning toward me Mason's eyes glitter with dark intent as he pulls me close, his hands possessive on my hips. "I think it's time we reminded our guest who you truly belong to," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous.

He spins me around so my back is pressed to his chest, both of us facing Elijah. With deliberate slowness, Mason unclasps my bra, letting it fall to the floor. His hands cup my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples as he nips at my neck.

"You see, Elijah," Mason says conversationally, as if he isn't slowly driving me mad with his teasing touches, "when it comes to my wife…"

His hands slide lower, one dipping between my thighs to stroke me through the damp lace of my panties. I can't hold back a moan, my hips rocking against his touch.

"Only I truly know how to please her," Mason continues, his fingers pushing aside the fabric to slide through my wet folds. "Only I know every secret spot that makes her scream."

To prove his point, he presses firmly against my clit, circling it with practiced skill. My knees nearly buckle as pleasure shoots through me. Mason's other arm wraps around my waist, holding me up as he continues his sweet torture.

"Listen to those pretty sounds she makes," he taunts Elijah. "Have you ever heard anything so exquisite?"

I force my eyes open, taking in the sight of Elijah straining against his bonds. His cock is achingly hard, precum beading at the tip. Even with the blindfold, I can see the muscle in his jaw ticking as he clenches his teeth.

Mason suddenly spins me around, lifting me up. I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me to the bed. He tosses me down, crawling over me with predatory grace.

"I'm going to fuck my wife now, Elijah," Mason calls out. "I want you to listen to every moan, every gasp, every scream of pleasure. I want you to know exactly what you're missing out on."

He enters me in one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt. I cry out at the exquisite fullness, my nails raking down his back. Mason sets a punishing pace, each thrust deep and purposeful.

"That's it, darling," he growls in my ear. "Let him hear how good I make you feel."

I don't hold back, letting my cries of pleasure fill the room. The wet sounds and slap of skin against skin seems obscenely loud in the otherwise quiet space. I can only imagine how it must sound to Elijah, amplified by his lack of sight.

Mason shifts the angle of his hips, hitting that spot inside me that makes me see stars. "Oh god, yes!" I scream, my back arching off the bed.

"That's it, darling," Mason growls, his voice rough with lust. "Let him hear every sound. Let him know exactly what he's missing."

His thrusts become deeper, harder, each one pushing me closer to the edge. I'm lost in a haze of pleasure, every nerve ending on fire. Mason's hands roam my body possessively, squeezing my breasts, pinching my nipples. His mouth latches onto my neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks.

"You're mine," he snarls against my skin. "Say it."

"Yours," I gasp out between moans.

He lifts my legs, draping them over his shoulders to drive even deeper. The new angle has me crying out with every thrust, teetering on the brink of orgasm.

"You hear that, Elijah?" Mason calls out, his voice strained with exertion. "She's mine. My perfect, wicked queen. My brilliant, beautiful, deadly wife. My partner in every way."

"Iris may have let you touch her," he pants, never slowing his relentless rhythm, "may have let you fuck her, but make no mistake–she's mine." He punctuates this with a particularly brutal thrust that has me seeing stars. "Every. Inch. Of. Her." Each word is emphasized with another deep stroke.

The coil of pleasure in my core winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. Mason must sense how close I am, because he leans in close, his lips brushing my ear.

"Come for me, darling," he purrs. "Let Elijah hear what he's missing out on."

His words are the final push I need. My orgasm crashes over me in waves of white-hot pleasure, my body arching off the bed as I scream Mason's name. My inner walls clamp down around him, pulling him deeper.

Mason follows me over the edge with a guttural groan, his hips stuttering as he empties himself inside me. For a moment, we stay locked together, panting and trembling in the aftermath. Then Mason slowly pulls out, and I feel our combined fluids start to trickle down my thighs.

Before I can move, Mason's fingers are there, gathering up the sticky mess. I watch through half-lidded eyes as he approaches Elijah, who has remained eerily silent throughout our performance.

"Open up," Mason commands, his voice brooking no argument.

When Elijah's lips part, likely to make some snarky comment, Mason takes the opportunity to smear our combined releases across his mouth and tongue.

"There," Mason says with satisfaction. His fingers linger on Elijah's lips, smearing our cum across them. His voice drops to a low, dangerous purr as he leans in close.

"Smell that, pretty boy? Taste it on your tongue. That's what you can't have. Not until we allow it."

Elijah's tongue darts out, involuntarily licking at the sticky mess coating his lips. A shudder runs through his body, visible even in the dim light. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, nostrils flaring as he inhales deeply.

"Exquisite, isn't it?" Mason taunts. "The scent of her arousal, the taste of my cum mixed with her sweet pussy. Intoxicating. Addictive."

"You want it desperately, don't you?" Mason continues, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "You want to taste her properly. To bury your face between her thighs and drink your fill. To feel her nails raking down your back as you fuck her."

A shudder runs through Elijah's body, betraying his arousal despite his best efforts to hide it. His cock is so hard it looks painful.

"But more than that," Mason says, leaning in close so his lips brush Elijah's ear, "you want me, too, don't you? You want to feel my hands on your body, my cock stretching you open. You want to be caught between us, fucked and used until you don't know where you end and we begin."

Elijah's breath catches audibly, his chest rising and falling rapidly. A bead of sweat trickles down his temple, disappearing beneath the edge of the blindfold.

Mason chuckles wickedly, pulling back slightly. "Oh yes, I can see it all over your face. You want it so badly it hurts. But you can't have it. Not yet.”

He traces Elijah's bottom lip with his thumb, pressing lightly. "Open wider," he commands. When Elijah reluctantly complies, Mason pushes two fingers into his mouth.

"Suck," he orders.

For a moment, Elijah resists. But then his cheeks hollow as he begins to suck Mason's fingers clean, his tongue working between the digits to lap up every last trace of us.

"Good boy," Mason praises, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "Savor it. Let it linger on your tongue. Because this?" He withdraws his fingers with a wet pop. "This is all you get tonight. A mere taste of what you're missing out on."

Mason's hand cups Elijah's jaw, grip firm but not painful. "Remember this moment, Elijah. The taste, the scent, the ache in your neglected cock. Let it haunt your dreams."

He releases Elijah's face, stepping back. I watch from the bed as he picks up one of the discarded earplugs.

"Sweet dreams, pretty boy," Mason murmurs, voice laced with mock tenderness as he pushes the foam plug into Elijah's left ear. There's a moment of tense silence, then Mason leans in one last time, his lips barely brushing the shell of Elijah's other ear.

"We'll see you in the morning," he whispers. "Or maybe we won't. Maybe we'll leave you here, bound and helpless, lost in your own personal darkness. Wouldn't that be fun?"

With that final taunt, he inserts the second earplug.