Authors: Christine Feehan
Looking at her, he couldn’t stop his mind from seeing the erotic images of her bent over the table while he stripped those little shorts off her body, baring her cheeks to him. She had pristine skin. Flawless. A perfect canvas for a man like him. He’d dreamt about her, tied, body stretched out, completely naked, tears in her eyes, that liquid his. All his. She would wait. Unable to see him as he stood behind her. Never knowing when the lash would fall. When it would land across her, leaving his marks on her. She wouldn’t
make a sound because it wasn’t allowed. Only her tears. Those were his. Those she could give him.
Just the thought put so much steel in his cock he could barely contain the erection. His jeans were stretched so tight the material hurt. His skin hurt where the scars were tight, but they gave way to the scorching-hot blood filling his cock at the thought of having his own woman willing to put herself in his hands. Giving herself to him. Surrendering to him when his cravings grew so dark there was no containing them.
In all the years of needing relief from his demons, he’d never once wanted or looked for a woman of his own. Until now. Until Seychelle. Now he couldn’t conceive of another woman meeting his needs or satisfying his dark addictions.
“There are too many things wrong to even start,” he admitted. His voice came out low. Velvet soft. Whispering over her. He could see the results, the way goose bumps rose on her skin. She was very susceptible to him. Receptive to his voice. She was as connected to him as he was to her.
Deliberately, he dropped his hand over his cock, massaging the terrible throbbing ache. It hurt like hell. Made him feel alive. His reaction to her was real. His erection was real. He hadn’t commanded it. He hadn’t put stripes on a woman’s body to get an arousal. Just the images in his mind of them on her skin, the sight of the scars on her leg, and his cock was fuller and hotter than it had ever been.
There was a part of him that knew—if she’d been his woman—he would have just stood up, caught her by all that glorious golden hair and brought her to her knees right in front of him. Or he would have taken her on her hands and knees and pounded into her, relieved the brutal, vicious,
ache in his cock.
Her gaze followed his hand, just as he knew it would. He saw the way her nipples peaked beneath the racer-back tank she wore at night. She had lush, generous tits. Full and
round. He wanted to see her nipples; they appeared as if they were generous as well, the kind he could spend time with. He had all kinds of fantasies about nipple play since he’d met her.
The tip of Seychelle’s tongue touched her lips, wetting them so they glistened in the light spilling in from the window. The ocean cast a silvery tone to her hair and a glow over her body.
“I told you I knew all sorts of sinful, dirty things. Do you want to learn any of them? I’m in the mood to teach some of them to you if you’re not afraid to learn.”
It was a challenge, delivered in a low, sexy voice. Deliberate. Velvet soft. His voice mesmerizing. She knew his voice could compel, and she was susceptible. She had a choice: to let herself fall under his spell or tell him to go to hell. He waited, his lungs burning. Raw. His face an expressionless mask. Eyes, twin blue flames.
Her gaze jumped from his hand massaging his cock to his eyes. That was a mistake on her part, because he could hold her captive with his gaze. She should have remembered that. Her tits rose and fell with every ragged breath she drew. He had to be so careful. He didn’t want to lose her, and he didn’t want to lose control. Demons shrieked at him. The monster in him rose fast, howling to be let loose.
“The dishes can dry all on their own. Put the towel down.” He waited to see if she would obey him. That was always the first step. The hardest.
She stood spellbound as he unzipped his jeans. Casual. She had no idea what he was going to do. Fear crept into her eyes, but she put the towel aside and stood in front of him, waiting.
, she was wonderful. So courageous. He hadn’t even earned her trust. He intended to do just that.
“Do you use toys to get yourself off?” He kept his voice low. Casual.
He’d talked about jerking off in the hospital. She’d been under the influence of pain medication and maybe she
wouldn’t remember. He was commando under his jeans, and the relief to his cock was tremendous. The cool night air hit his shaft, those tight bands that were stretched so wide the pain was part of the pounding pleasure. He thought it was possible his cock might explode, it was stretched so thick with rich hot blood. He wrapped his fist around the pulsing shaft and waited for her answer.
“I have a toy,” she whispered. “It fits over my clit.” Her fascinated gaze was fixed on his fist, lazily beginning to pump his cock.
“Have you ever gotten off with it?”
She shook her head. Once more her tongue moistened her lips, and his cock nearly jumped out of his hand in response.
“Babe, get it out. You’re going to need it.”
She stood very still as if she might not do what he said. He didn’t tell her again. He just stayed sprawled out in the chair, cock in hand, watching the expression on her face. The hunger in her eyes. There was so much mystery to Seychelle. So much about her he didn’t understand.
She should have just kicked him the hell out, but she never did. She laughed most of the time when he was around. She never took offense at anything he said or did. She was the most peaceful person he’d ever been around. And then there was this . . . She gave him this—her trust when he hadn’t earned it. She seemed like a little angel, and yet there was such a wicked side to her.
“It won’t work.” She turned away from him and went into the bedroom to the bedside drawer. He could still see her clearly through the doorway from his chair.
“Do you have the batteries in upside down?” He let his amusement show.
“Very funny.” The return was sarcastic, but there was laughter in her voice. That damn fuckin’ dimple of hers appeared, and his cock twitched hard in response. She held up the little toy. “I’ve tried it several times. I never get off.”
“Even after you met me? No fantasies?”
“I’ll admit, I didn’t bring it with me when I left for the week. I definitely should have.”
It was a mistake on her part to remind him of the week from hell he’d had while she was gone. “Are you slick now, just at the idea of doing something dirty with me?”
“Of course.” She didn’t lie, but then, she never did with him.
“Grab two of the pillows. Put them in the middle of the bed. Take off your shorts. If you want, you can take off your tank as well. If you’re more comfortable, you can leave it on.”
Savage watched his little angel walk to the edge of the bed, shimmy out of her shorts and lay the two pillows in the middle of the bed. She had that toy in her hand. Her hips were perfect. Curved from her small waist, forming the lower half of a wonderful hourglass. Her skin was just exactly as he knew it would be—a pristine canvas.
He nearly groaned aloud. Fire radiated up his groin and spread through his body. He would never be able to get that vision out of his head now that he’d seen it. Now that he knew exactly what was hidden beneath her clothing. Like her tits, she had generous hips and that sweet ass. He had done his best not to fixate on her body or her skin, but it was far too late now. His balls grew hot and tight, boiling with the need to be free.
“Crawl onto the bed, baby. You need to lie belly down, hips over the pillows. Fit that little toy over your clit and turn it on the lowest setting. I’ll be right there.” If he could walk. “I don’t want you turning around. I just want you lying there, waiting for me. Anticipation is half the fun.”
He didn’t take his eyes off her as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. She didn’t hesitate this time, climbing up onto the bed, knees and hands placed carefully, her gorgeous ass swaying as she crawled to the center of the mattress. The two pillows pushed her bottom into the air, presenting her perfectly to him.
Savage took his boots off, and then shoved his jeans off, making his way slowly to the bed. She was so beautiful waiting there for him. Laid out for him. She obeyed him. Not once did she glance back to see what he was doing, and he was deliberately silent. She had discipline. She’d need it if he really did what his mind kept telling him to—make her his. He knew he shouldn’t, but why the hell had fate thrown her in his path if not to give her to him?
He slid onto the bed beside her, turning his body so that he had a little bit of room. He was going to need it. “You do know that you scared the hell out of me, right, baby? No one has ever done that. Not since I was a little kid.”
He rubbed her gorgeous bare cheeks in a circular motion. Let his hand slide just a little close to her entrance to feel her heat. He wanted to taste her. Pump his cock hard into her. He knew better. One small victory at a time. This one was the most important right now.
“You gotta pay for that shit, Seychelle. That, and not answering me. I didn’t like that. When I call you, when I text, you answer me first thing. I don’t fuckin’ care what you’re doing, you stop and answer me so I know you’re safe. You’re not to make a sound unless you come. Not one sound. Turn that little toy to medium.”
He leaned down and nuzzled her bottom. First one cheek and then the other, allowing the bristles along his jaw to rub her tender skin. Without warning, he swatted her hard. Over and over. At first he switched cheeks and ensured he never hit the same place twice. Her cheeks turned bright red with his handprints. She started to struggle instinctively, just a little, but she didn’t cry out.
Demons roared. His body went crazy. Joy surged through him. He hadn’t felt this way in years—if ever.
, whispered the devil.
This was real. This was the way he was meant to feel. This was why his cock was so hard, so full, in spite of the scars.
“Kick it up, baby, the vibrator, kick it up higher,” he
instructed. She had to stay with him. She had to keep going. He rubbed his hand over those marks. His marks. On her. Seychelle. His woman.
She settled, her hips bucking, and he pressed his body tighter against her, his cock so hot he knew she felt him like a brand. His fist jerked hard in time with her frantic hips. He could see his seed marking her white skin, long strings of pearly white leaking from the sensitive crown, a small preview of what was to come. Threads tying them together.
The sight of her ass red with his prints was so arousing to him, he increased the pace and the strength of his strikes, this time repeating them on the places he’d already smacked her so that the color turned the shade he craved to see. Her body shuddered, writhing, her breathing changing from ragged to labored to strangled as she moaned in a long desperate cry of pleasure that went on and on.
He fisted his cock and pumped hard. It was frantic and wild. Out of control. It didn’t take much. He erupted like a volcano, long ropes of hot seed spurting over her bloodred ass. He came hard, violently, a long, brutal orgasm that went on forever. Heaven and hell. So perfect.
There was absolute satisfaction in knowing those dark red handprints he’d left on her would stay for a long while. “Turn your head toward me.” He kept his voice low. Velvet soft. Commanding. She’d come just as hard as he had. He wanted to write his name all over her. More importantly, her tears belonged to him. They would always belong to him.
Reluctantly, she obeyed him, lifting her head slightly and turning it. Long strands of silky-soft hair fell over her face. He smoothed it back and leaned into her, his lips moving from her chin to her eyes, catching every tear as another shudder of pleasure went through her body. Ripple after ripple, little aftershocks. He wanted to be in her, feeling every one with her, but he had the satisfaction of knowing she’d given him her surrender. And her trust. And this—her tears.
He tasted every one. Salt, wild strawberries and honey dripping down her face. “Was that dirty and sinful enough for you, baby?” he whispered in her ear, his lips moving over that perfect little shell. He caught her lobe in his teeth and tugged.
“I think it was, Savage, thank you very much. I think. If I can stop crying. It hurt. And it felt fantastic.”
He kissed his way down her neck, because he couldn’t help himself. He bit that soft skin, but gently, not the way he wanted or needed to. “Which was it? Hurt or fantastic?”
She was silent for a moment, her blue eyes still liquid. Her lashes spiky. The sight set his heart tripping and his body stirring.
“I’m not certain. Both. Mixed together. I couldn’t separate them. The feeling was explosive, but terrifying at the same time.”
“Makes you feel alive, doesn’t it?” He flashed a grin and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Those tears are always mine, Seychelle. You remember that.”
She didn’t reply, her blue gaze drifting over his face, seeing things she shouldn’t see. She always had.
“Give me the toy and don’t move. I’ll clean you up and take care of you.” He held out his hand, giving her no choice.
She gave him the vibrator. It fit in his palm and he slid off the bed and went to her bathroom. She would have antibacterial soap to clean her toy with. Sure enough, it was right there, under her sink. He cleaned the toy himself, and then got a warm cloth for her. He was dick enough not to want to wash himself off of her. He liked claiming her. For him it wasn’t about teaching her down-and-dirty sex. It was about putting his stamp on her. Proclaiming to the world—and to her—that she belonged to him.
Savage was very gentle as he washed her clean. He didn’t feel gentle. That devil in him rejoiced at the marks on her. He dried her off with a towel very thoroughly. He
found arnica lotion under her sink and grabbed that as well. “I’m going to rub lotion on your bottom so you hopefully don’t bruise.”
“I’d like to think you got carried away in the heat of the moment, but I don’t think you did,” Seychelle murmured. Her voice was muffled by the sheets. “You were really upset about me disappearing on you, weren’t you?”