A WILDer Kind of Love (24 page)

W
hat was the
word for what his dark promise did to her body? “Shivers” was a laughable shortchange. “Tremors” made her think of a horror movie—and while she was scared, the next part of the show couldn’t come fast enough. “Shock”? Closer perhaps, though it sounded like she’d been in a pile-up on the 15—and this was a collision more violent and twisted-metal awesome than anything she’d seen on the six o’clock news.

She wanted to be the wreckage now.
Needed
it. The sincerity in her moan, emitted as Sexy tugged her head back up, was real. So was the urgency in her sigh, as he slid something against her lips again. Earthy but sensual. Steel beneath softness. The swell of his cock again, pulsing at her from beneath his leathers.

Oh, yes
…

“Honor it again.”

She eagerly obeyed, opening her mouth more, trying to stimulate as much of his length as she could. He was magnificent, even now. His penis was a solid, stiff rod, and all too clearly she remembered how perfectly it filled her body.

Too quickly, he pulled himself away. Once more, he presented her with an impact toy to worship in the same way. She cracked her eyes open to look—

And almost wished she hadn’t.

The long, thin paddle was covered in hard leather on one side—and small steel studs on the other. She blinked, thinking maybe her lust-fogged vision was deceiving her, but as he passed that side of the instrument past her, the cold bumps were all too real against her lips and cheeks.

“Holy shit,” she rasped.

The griffin stopped and turned. “Problem, little one?”

She winced and closed her eyes again. “No, Sir.”

His hand pressed the top of her head. Skated down her spine. “Scared?”

Fume. He damn well knew the answer to that since her skin puckered and shivered beneath his touch, but no way in hell was he letting her get away with polite silence this time. “Yes, Sir,” she uttered tightly. “A little.” Maybe a lot, but he didn’t need to know that.

“I like scared.”

Or maybe he did need to know. If she could be promised more of that new burlap in his voice, wrapping every word in deep lust…then yeah, she was
scared
.

“Hang on tight, little girl.”

Yep. Scared.

And turned way the hell on.

And wrapping her hands around the edges of the pads, determined to be brave about this—

Until a harsh
smack
snapped her head up—and set her ass on fire.

“Oh, my—”

Then another.

“Dammit!”

“Ssshhh.” He backed it up by stroking her ass with the flip side of the paddle…as if the bastard knew how good those cool steel studs would feel on the burn across her cheeks. “Breathe deep. Take it in. Process it all—”

“Process
what
?” His Yoda-Dom Zen was the last thing she needed right now. “It hurts, damn you!”

His soft snicker wasn’t scoring him any points, no matter how irresistible it sounded. “‘Damn you’ isn’t your safe word.”

“I
remember
my fucking safe—
owwww
!”

That was one way of learning how fast he could play flip-and-spank with a paddle. He delivered another blow on top of that one, making her jerk against the restraints, struggling to process the inferno tearing its way across her poor backside and thighs.

“I can just as easily forget to flip this thing over, red.”

His tone still resonated with humor, though it had gone dark and deliberate, a Dom-land mix of Loki and Batman.

“Now you really are trying to scare me.”

“And it’s working.”

“Of course it is.”

“And that makes me so goddamn hard.” The rasp reentered his voice as the paddle returned to her ass. He just tapped at her now, a weird combination of both sides that brought more heat to her skin…but never quite enough. “How does that feel, sweet girl? To know what the awareness of your fear and the beauty of your skin do to me? To realize they’re the most potent aphrodisiac I’ve ever experienced, in all my years as a Dominant? To know I’m hurting as badly as you are right now, hypnotized by your red, gorgeous ass and all your aching, erotic screams?”

He increased the strength of the paddle but only a little. Tess writhed, trying to shove her butt higher.
Not…enough. More. Need more
.

“I want to fuck you so badly right now,” he growled. “But you’re not ready yet, are you, babe?” He replaced the paddle with a hand, smoothing it over her skin, spreading the warmth…everywhere. He verified as much by dipping fingers between her legs, exploring the wet lips of her sex, the quivering ridge of her clit. “No. Almost…but not quite.”

Tess groaned, rolling her hips as he boldly touched her, explored her. But he was right. It wasn’t enough. Somehow, she knew there was more. A level of this that she had yet to accept from him. Heights she had yet to ascend.

“Please.” So strange. Her voice was a detached thing now, high and breathy, belonging to a creature she barely recognized. The phoenix of herself, taking flight into a new reality. A freedom like she’d never known.

But she wasn’t…quite…there.

“Please,” she repeated. “I need it. Now…”

When his leathers pressed into her face, she whined in heady relief. Caressed him once more, even biting at his erection through the fabric to express how much she craved him—

Even when the next item in front of her lips was long, cold, and lethally thin.

A fiberglass cane.

A quiver took over Tess’s body. Dammit, it just figured. Yoda-Dom wanted to play with his scary light saber of sadism—and already knew that she wanted to let him. He’d deliberately ramped her higher with the paddling but then backed off, teasing her with the lighter sensation play, turning her into the wanton hussy she was now.

Wanton—and shameless.

And needy. God,
yes
…so needy.

“Are you ready, little one?” His voice curled through her, deep and rough with his lust, knifing straight to the heart of her trembling womb. Tess licked her lips. She could practically taste his desire on the air, charging it with a million delicious ions.

“Yes, Sir. Oh, yes.”

A long moment passed. She parted her eyes open to look at him, sensing the weight of his new deliberation.

“No,” he uttered, raking her with a thoughtful stare. “I don’t think you
are
ready.”

“What?” She scowled. “Why?”

Before her words were done, he leaned over to swing down the stockade part of the bench. As he locked down the panel, which had cutouts for her head and hands, Tess’s breaths became razors in her chest. Her pulse throbbed in the center of her pussy. Shit, shit, shit. She’d been hoping the griffin would forget about the piece, because
she’d
been trying to.

Knowing how much it would freak her out.

Knowing how deeply she’d be aroused by all that helplessness.

While she wrestled with the psychobabble, her Dom unshackled her wrists. With wordless command, he placed them onto the padded holders, which would become full circles of bondage once he snapped the stockade’s top piece into place. With her arms in position, there was only one place for her head to go: the larger hole in between.

Her whole body shook as Sexy lowered the stockade.

Her heart halted as he snapped the lock shut.

Her sex clenched as he released a carnal snarl.

“
Now
you’re ready, dear one.”

Dear one.
He went there on purpose, as if knowing the conflict that assaulted her, and how much the endearment would ease it. But
how
did he know? No Dom was David Blaine; every neuron of her brain knew that—but it didn’t stop her heart from clinging to his reassurance that he somehow got it, that he felt every drop of the weirdness about loving this while hating it, asking herself why the most barbaric thing she’d ever consented to was also the source of the hottest sexual need she’d ever known.

She couldn’t want this.

She shouldn’t want this.

She never wanted to leave this.

Her inner battle raged on—another truth he simply seemed to
know
, before crouching down in front of her.

Her vision was filled with him. The black mask. That inscrutable stare. Those lips, tilted in enigmatic mystery. That was only the beginning of it. Oh yes, this position had its advantages. Greedily, she roamed her stare over the plateaus of his shoulders, his molded pecs and abs, then the rigid guideposts of muscle that disappeared beneath his leathers…

She wetted her lips. Holy God, the man was lick-worthy. Her entire body reacted to him with visceral force. Her nipples puckered and extended. Her thighs clenched, fighting their constraints. Her clit zinged and tingled, reacting to the honey that dripped from her aching, needy channel.

Wow
.

How the hell had she gotten so lucky? To be with a Dom who knew her darkest desires, who read every inch of her mind, and was also
this
freaking hot?

Yeah. Wow.

Glimmers in his eyes made their way past his mask. Their intensity made her belly do new backflips as he shifted off his haunches, directly onto his knees. Tess gave him a soft smile as she watched his gaze flicker down to her lips, but he didn’t move in for the expected kiss.

Instead, with their faces an inch apart, he murmured, “You’re so fucking beautiful, red.”

She almost sighed in relief. If he’d gone for
dear one
again, she wouldn’t have guaranteed her composure factor. At least now, she could concoct something halfway witty in return. “Hmmpf. I bet you say that to all the girls in the stockade.”

“Nope. Never.”

“Ever?”

His lips firmed. “Are you trying to buy time with snark, little rose?”

“
Moi
?” A shuddery breath left her. Truth be known, he was right. The long rod in his hands terrified her as much as thrilled her.
I’m not going to play you easy, rose.
But what did that mean? What exactly was “not easy” for her? Where were her limits? How far was too far? And how would
he
know?

She was suddenly really afraid to explore those answers.

After he let her crack die into silence, along with any of its mirthful residue, he finally touched her. Only once. A stroke of his knuckles, slow and sure, down the side of her face—before he spoke again.

“This is going to happen, sweet subbie. And you’re going to love it, I promise. Now tell me that you understand.”

Tess squeezed her eyes shut again. “I—I understand, Sir.”

“Now tell me that you trust me about that.”

She jerked her way through a nod. “I trust you, Sir. I do.”

“Such a good girl.”

His hand rounded to the top of her head as he returned to his feet in one graceful sweep.

“Now tell me you crave my cane across your ass.”

‡

T
he words were
a turn-on when he said them.

They were sexual speed when she did.

And, quite possibly, the beginning of his ruin.

Maybe it was because he didn’t expect she’d really comply with him—at least not with this illicit order. Or if he did, that she wouldn’t offer the words with such a husky whisper. Or that she’d lift her backside so exquisitely, presenting herself for him like the most eager of lifestyle slaves instead of a twice-in submissive with a day job often requiring her to play Domme to a whole crowd of people at once.

How the hell was he going to make this his last time in the dungeon with her?

Why
the hell did he think he could?

Not the issues to be hoisting on the table right now, bozo. You forget the item of kinky destruction in your hand right now—or the ways you can actually hurt her with it, if you’re off in self-therapy la-la land
?

The rest of him wasn’t going to argue. Not his soul, which had needed this moment since she’d agreed to meet him here again—and sure as hell not his body, resonating with energy he could only label as harmonic convergence, or some cosmic shit like that. He had no idea what else to call it, this huge window he seemed to have into
her
thoughts and feelings, but instead of standing here and analyzing it, he decided to simply be grateful—and give the woman what he knew she so clearly needed.

The perfect pain from this cane.

And the nirvana he was going to fly her to because of it.

He paced around her, skimming the cane’s tip along her body. It was worth it to take his time, savoring the little tremors he created beneath her skin.

“Breathtaking.”

Understatement in every way. Her new positioning in the stockade did incredible things for her lithe, long angles. Her breasts were stretched and taut, her spine graceful and sleek. And her ass…god
damn
. The beautiful globes were poised and ready, already an awesome landscape of dark pinks and brilliant reds. A masterpiece
he’d
created…hell, yes…

He traced the patterns with his free hand as he slid behind her again, growling low at the primal, possessive instinct coursing through him.

“Oh, little one…branding you like this could become an addiction.”