Sweet Temptation

The whip sliced through the air, and only a faint whistle alerted her a split second before fire blistered across her back.

She clamped her lips shut against the cry that threatened to burst out. Heat raced across her flesh, leaving a sharp ache in its wake. After the initial bloom of pain, pleasure blossomed and radiated through her abdomen.

Her nipples tightened and her pussy pulsed in anticipation. This was her sweet. Her sugar rush to end all rushes. Pain was a high for her that could never be explained. Only experienced.

The second lash came harder, surprising her with its intensity. She gasped and then held on to the sensation, not wanting it to fade away.

When he took too long to administer the third lash, she moaned her disappointment. His hand tangled in her hair and he yanked her head back, his lips pressing against her temple.

“I’m in charge here, Angel. Not you. I call the shots. This isn’t about your pleasure or pain. It’s mine. You’re mine. You just have to stand here and take it.”

He released her hair then backed away again. She swallowed rapidly, trying to quell the rise of anticipation that threatened to overwhelm her.

Breathe. She had to remember to breathe.

Her body jerked, the leather straps digging into her wrists as she reacted to the third lash. Tears swamped her eyes, and she breathed raggedly through her open mouth. Oh God. Red. So much red. It gathered in her periphery and the room swirled around her.

Four. Five. Six. The lashes fell, the sound sharp. She twisted and writhed, but she endured without a sound.

Seven. Eight. Nine.

A low hum settled in her ears and she floated, no longer feeling the strain on her wrists. She was enveloped by warmth, soft and comforting. She smiled even as she closed her eyes in anticipation of the next lash.

This. This is what she craved. The high after the pain. The edge and then toppling over. It was dreamy, smooth, more exotic than anything else she’d ever experienced.

He walked around the front and she opened her eyes. He was nude, his cock stiff and distended. Beautiful. So beautiful. His body was sculpted and molded as if someone had lovingly crafted him by hand. His hair hung wild to his shoulders, unruly, like him. Savage.

She saw a kindred soul when she looked into his eyes. Could he see one in hers? Did he recognize her?

The whip came up and flicked across her belly, not as hard as he’d struck her back, but the shock sent her flinching away. Before she could process the sensation, he flipped his wrist and the whip stung across her right breast, perilously close to her nipple. Then her left breast.

She found herself pushing forward, wanting the contact, her nipples surging, tightening, wanting to feel the kiss of the whip.

He feathered welts in a distinct pattern across her chest and abdomen but always missing her nipples. She panted and then sucked air through her nose. She needed. God, she needed.

The whip went silent, and in the next moment excruciating pain and the most indescribable pleasure assaulted her. Her nipples felt pierced by hot needles. Her eyes flew open and she looked down to see a clamp with vicious little teeth attached to each stiff, distended nipple.

Her entire body burned, an inferno that raged across her welted skin. Arousal was savage within her. If she hadn’t been bound, she would have taken Micah before he could ever take her. It was a need so fierce she felt she might die from it.

As if sensing how close she was to absolute overload, he dropped the whip, stalked forward and threw her legs over his forearms, standing to his full height.

She was spread and draped helplessly over him, and he wasted no time possessing her. He yanked her onto his cock, plunging through her swollen tissues like a hot knife through butter. She enveloped him, swallowed him, welcomed him with every particle of her being.

Over and over his hips slapped against her ass. He fucked her savagely, his features drawn tight in agony. He was hard, brutal even, and still she wanted more.

Power rolled through his big body and bled into each thrust. His cock battered her, ramming without mercy. He yanked her forward even as he stepped into every thrust.

Her arms pulled and stretched. Her muscles burned. Her abused flesh protested his every movement.

Without warning, he dropped her limbs, her feet hitting the floor. She stumbled, her hands flexing as her bonds held her upright.

His hand curled around his engorged cock, nearly purple the skin was stretched so tight at the head. He yanked, aiming at her body.

He directed his release onto her skin. It splattered her breasts and rolled between them down to her belly. It splashed onto her thighs and trickled farther downward.

His. He marked her in the most primitive way he could. She loved the feel of his liquid heat sliding down her skin. She felt empowered. She felt beautiful. She felt like she belonged.