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He hooked her bare foot and shoved it wide and then bent to secure her ankle to the post with a cuff. As he rose, he ran his fingers up the inside of her thigh, over her bare pussy lips, feeling the slick heat, smiling when she shuddered with need, and then down her other side, trailing that sweet honey in a little intriguing smear along her thigh. He shoved her left leg wide and secured that ankle as well.

He circled her again, tugging on the ankle bindings that kept her legs spread apart, exposing every inch of her naked body to him. The bath salts had done their job. He could see the slickness forming on her tight little opening. That was all his. Not hers. This night wasn’t about her at all.

He swept her hair into a knot on top of her head and then wrapped it into a silken scarf that was tied to the crossbeam above her, so she didn’t have a lot of room to move. He needed her hair out of the way, so he had access to both the front and back of her—all that satin skin. As he moved around her, he deliberately ran his hands down her soft skin—skin that belonged to him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Seychelle. I knew you’d look like this with the moonlight shining on you.”

The music pounded through him the way his heart beat. He had put on his favorite band, Five Finger Death Punch. He identified with so many of their lyrics. The beat crashed through his blood, straight to his cock, finding the same thundering roar as the waves smashing against the rocks.

His woman was beautiful in her fear of the unknown. He stood behind her and pressed his body against hers, his palms cupping her tits. She had good-sized breasts. More than a handful, high, round and firm, her nipples standing out, already hard pebbles, telling him that she might be scared, but she was very aroused. Her waist was small, her hips flared. He loved her ass, and he pushed his erection tight against her generous cheeks.

“You’re ready for this, baby. So ready. You’re dripping for my cock, and we haven’t even gotten started.” He whispered the truth in her ear like a sin. His teeth closed on her delicate lobe and bit down hard enough to sting, making her gasp. She tried to move her head, to rest it on his shoulder, but her hair tied into the scarf above her made that impossible. He licked at the sting.

“Remember how it felt? That fire? So good, Seychelle. You loved it. Your body was made for mine. This is going to be so much more intense. That only means when I let you have my cock, it will be like nothing you’ve ever experienced.”

He stepped in front of her again, this time picking up his coiled bullwhip. He showed it to her, watching her eyes widen with both trepidation and anticipation. Deliberately, he caught her left nipple, that beautiful nipple he had clamped before to prepare her for this moment. He pinched hard, as if she wore clover clamps. She gasped, and the demon in him roared with approval, thundered for more. His cock pulsed for more. His mouth clamped down on her right tit, sucking hard, drawing it into his mouth while the fist holding his bullwhip brought the handle between her legs.

She was needy. The moment he touched her clit with the braided leather, she reacted helplessly, her hips pushing against it, a moan escaping. He bit down on her nipple, using his teeth mercilessly, allowing her to ride against the whip handle while his fingers and teeth tugged and pulled her nipples harshly.

Tears formed in her eyes, liquid gold as far as he was concerned. He let up the pressure and used his tongue to ease the sting. “It hurts so good, doesn’t it, baby?” He kissed his way down her belly, sliding the whip handle back and forth over the insides of her thighs.

“Please, Savage.” She whispered the entreaty.

He licked at the honey spilling along her bare lips. Her entire body jerked. She was ready. More than ready. He straightened and backed away. “You do please me, Seychelle. What is the rule? Tell me.” He poured steel into his voice, keeping his tone low, a velvet demand.

She swallowed hard. “No screaming unless I’m having an orgasm. I can cry silently, but my tears belong to you.”

He nodded. “What do you say if you need me to slow down and give you a moment?”

“Yellow.”

“And to stop?”

“Red.”

“If you say red, we end everything. You’re in control here. Remember that, baby. You’re done, you say that. Promise me.”

She nodded.

“I need to hear the words.”

“I promise.”

“This isn’t like the flogger I used on you before. This is going to be intense. Each whip is going to be harsher. Much more extreme. You have to surrender completely to the sensations. Give yourself to it. Let the fire take you.”


Tags: Christine Feehan Torpedo Ink Romance