“I was—”
He pressed his hand over her mouth. “Shh, no more talking unless it’s to safe out. You said you need more. You may regret what you asked for.”
He lowered his hand and dragged what looked to be a thin reed of wood across her breasts. She swallowed hard. “May I ask what that is, sir?”
“You may,” he said, dragging the tip of it over her shoulder and down her back. “It’s a rattan cane. One of the most intensely painful tools I have.”
She stiffened, fear instantly taking root.
“In the wrong hands, it can injure.” He traced the notches of her spine with the end of the dreadful thing. “In the right hands, it hurts like a sonofabitch and leaves the prettiest marks.”
Her breath quickened. “Sir . . .”
He stepped up behind her and dragged her backside along his erection. Her sex clenched, desperate for him. “I need to see how deep your masochism streak runs. But more than that I want to mark you, Tess. I want to wake up tomorrow with my ring on your finger and my marks on your skin.”
She shivered in his hold, a combination of fear and desperate need coalescing. The idea of him marking her spoke to some part inside her she hadn’t even known existed. “I’m a little scared.”
“I know, baby,” he said, kissing the shell of her ear. “And that’s okay. I won’t force this on you. In fact, I’m not going to do it until you ask for my cane.”
Her throat was so dry she had trouble speaking. “What do you mean?”
His breath was hot on her skin as he lowered his hand and teased her clit again. “I won’t do it until you tell me you want my marks.”
“And if I say no?” she asked, breathless from what he was doing with his fingers.
“I put it away,” he said simply.
She closed her eyes and took a long breath as he continued to tease her to the edge of orgasm. Intense pain didn’t seem like something she would ever ask for. But the burning warmth from the spanking was starting to fade and all her senses had gone edgy, hungry for something more, something else. Like if she could just have whatever that little extra was, it would send her over into orgasm.
“I trust you,” she said softly.
Kade pressed another kiss to her hair but seemed to relax behind her. “You trust me to what, baby?”
She was so close to coming it was hard to focus. “Trust that you won’t give me more than you think I can handle. Give me your cane, sir. Please. I want to wear your marks.”
Kade groaned, the pleased sound reward enough, and he stepped in between her and the couch. He was on his knees in a flash and spreading her open with his thumbs. His tongue and mouth enveloped her clit before she could even catch her breath.
She let out a gasp of surprise and her fists curled in her bindings.
“Come for me, Tess,” he said, pulling back for a moment. “I want you flying high first.”
He went back to licking her with hungry enthusiasm, and he pushed the leather-wrapped handle of the cane inside her. Her body clasped around the invasion and she made a desperate sound. Oh, God.
It was all too much at once. He pumped the unyielding handle inside her with slow, insanity-inducing strokes and his lips and tongue paid homage to every delicate, aching part of her. She had no hope to hold off. The orgasm steamrolled over her, crushing any last resistance and tearing a cry from her throat.
Kade lapped at her, letting her ride the wave of sensation for as long as possible, then he slid the handle from her and was climbing to his feet. Her body was still contracting, pleasure steadily pulsing through her, when he put a hand on her shoulder to steady her and flicked the cane across her ass.
Holy. Fucking. Shit. Pain exploded over her with breath-stealing impact. She opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out. No, no, no, she couldn’t take this much. But before she could suck in air to call her safeword, the reverberating pain radiated outward through her body and mixed in with the tail end of her orgasm, morphing into some
hybrid sensation that made her pant and on the verge of coming again.
“God, look how beautiful you are,” Kade said, his voice holding awe. He pressed fingers against her clit and circled with firmer pressure than she would’ve guessed could feel good. “Two more, love.”
He flicked the cane again, right below where the first hit had been, and she saw stars. But his fingers kept circling, and the stimulation was just what she needed. Her body was tightening all over again, preparing for another explosion.
“Last one,” he whispered.
The intensity was no less than the first two, but the gasping sobs she made had nothing to do with the pain. The sensations were making her dizzy and desperate. She didn’t know how to hold it all in. She felt lost. She felt found. She felt . . . high.