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He doesn’t stop. With exquisite care, he slowly increases the intensity on each. I pull fruitlessly against my restraints as sharp pleasure spikes from my nipples to my groin. I try to squirm but I can hardly move, and it makes the torture all the more intense.

“Christian,” I plead.

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“I know,” he murmurs his voice hoarse. “This is what you make me feel.” What? I groan, and he begins again, subjecting my nipples to his sweet agonizing touch over and over—taking me closer.

“Please,” I mewl.

He makes a low primal sound in his throat, then stands, leaving me bereft, breathless, and squirming against my restraints. He runs his hands down my sides, one pausing on my hip while the other travels down my belly.

“Let’s see how you’re doing,” he croons softly. Gently, he cups my sex, brushing his thumb across my clitoris and making me cry out. Slowly, he inserts one, then two fingers inside me. I groan and thrust my hips forward, eager to meet his fingers and the palm of his hand.

“Oh, Anastasia, you’re so ready,” he says.

He circles his fingers inside me, around and around, while his thumb strokes my clitoris, back and forth, once more. It’s the only point on my body where he’s touching me, and all the tension, all the anxiety of the day, is concentrated on this one part of my anatomy.

Holy shit . . . it’s intense . . . and strange . . . the music . . . I begin to build . . .

Christian shifts, his hand still moving against and in me, and I hear a low buzzing noise.

“What?” I gasp.

“Hush,” he soothes, and his lips are on mine, effectively silencing me. I welcome the warmer, more intimate contact, kissing him voraciously. He breaks the contact and the buzzing noise gets nearer.

“This is a wand, baby. It vibrates.”

He holds it against my chest, and it feels like a large ball-like object vibrating against me. I shiver as it moves across my skin, down between my breasts, across to first one, then the other nipple, and I’m awash with sensation, tingling everywhere, synapses firing as dark, dark need pools at the base of my belly.

“Ah,” I groan while Christian’s fingers continue to move inside me . I’m close . . . all this stimulation . . . Tilting my head back, I moan loudly and Christian stills his fingers. All sensation stops.

“No! Christian,” I plead, trying to thrust my hips forward for some friction.

“Still, baby,” he says while my impending orgasm melts away. He leans forward once more and kisses me.

“Frustrating, isn’t it?” he murmurs.

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Oh no! Suddenly I understand his game.

“Christian, please.”

“Hush,” he says and kisses me. And he starts to move again—wand, fingers, thumb—a lethal combination of sensual torture. He shifts so his body brushes against mine. He’s still dressed, and the soft denim of his jeans brushes against my leg, his erection at my hip. So tantalizingly close. He brings me to the brink again, my body singing with need, and stops.

“No,” I mewl loudly.

He plants soft wet kisses on my shoulder as he withdraws his fingers from me, and moves the wand down. It oscillates over my stomach, my belly, onto my sex, against my clitoris. Fuck, it’s intense.

“Ah!” I cry out, pulling hard on the restraints.

My body is so sensitized I feel I am going to explode, and just as I am, Christian stops again.

“Christian!” I cry out.

“Frustrating, yes?” he murmurs against my throat. “Just like you. Promising one thing and then . . .” His voice trails off.

“Christian, please!” I beg.

He pushes the wand against me again and again, stopping just at the vital moment each time. Ah!

“Each time I stop, it feels more intense when I start again. Right?”

“Please,” I whimper. My nerve endings are screaming for release.

The buzzing stops and Christian kisses me. He runs his nose down mine.

“You are the most frustrating woman I have ever met.” No, No, No.

“Christian, I never promised to obey you. Please, please—” He moves in front of me, grabs my behind and pushes his hips against me, making me gasp—his groin rubbing into mine, the buttons of his jeans pressing into me, barely containing his erection. With one hand he pulls off the blindfold and grasps my chin, and I blink up into his scorching eyes.

“You drive me crazy,” he whispers, flexing his hips against me once, twice, three times more, causing my body to spark—ready to burn. And again he denies me. I want him so badly. I need him so badly. I close my eyes and mutter a prayer. I can’t help but feel I’m being punished. I’m helpless and he’s ruthless. Tears spring to my eyes. I don’t know how far he’s going to take this.

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“Please,” I whisper once more.