Page 45 of Vicious Redemption

The danger of letting Tia enter this realm is that I want her to enjoy it. Because I would love nothing more than to torture her into bliss. Maybe that does make me sadistic. But I don’t revel in her pain. I want her to draw pleasure from every second of this. Still, I love the power it gives me over her euphoria.

That, I do want to own.

“Tell me I’m the master of your pleasure, and I’ll make you come harder than you ever have before,” I whisper in her ear.

I’m softening the edge of her submission as I tempt her with an offer she can’t refuse. And I watch as the defiance wars across her features, then dissolves.

“You are the master of my pleasure,” she admits, her words breathy and seductively genuine.

Humming my approval, I lean in and kiss the remorse from her lips. At the same time, I slide two fingers deep inside her, curling them to stroke her G-spot. With the heel of my palm, I massage her clit, stimulating her at the same time as I finger her.

Tia’s chest heaves, her lips greedy as she strains against my tie. Then she cries into my mouth as her pussy clamps down around my fingers. Throbbing and twitching to life, her clit and walls pulse around me. I don’t stop. Fingering her adamantly, I demand every last drop of pleasure from her. And it seems there’s no end to her release.

Continuing to writhe and pant beneath my touch, Tia grips me again and again. And her sensual sounds make my cock throb impatiently to be inside her.

“Are you ready for more, pet?” I tease, kissing a path along her throat as the aftershocks of her orgasm finally start to subside.

“Yes,” she mewls.

“Then, get on your knees,” I command. And slowly, I withdraw my fingers from her pussy.

Her eyes follow my movement, and as I wrap my lips around the slick digits to suck them clean, Tia releases a lusty gasp.

22

TIA

Though my hands are tied, I still manage to roll onto my stomach and rise onto my knees as Leo orders. My arms stretch far above my head as I settle into a child’s pose, resting my forehead on the sheets. But my body’s still reeling from the intensity of my orgasm.

The torture of Leo’s teasing, of having him stop multiple times to make me bend to his will, only seemed to compound the pleasure—after frustrating me to the point of wanting to scream.

Humming his approval, Leo runs his hands over my body, following the dip of my waist to the flare of my hips. Then he leans down and bites my ass. Literally bites it, his lips soft as his teeth pinch the flesh and make me yelp. At the same time, goosebumps explode across my skin, and my clit throbs with need.

Then the bed shifts as he rises from it, his touch suddenly vanishing.

I shiver, the absence leaving me craving him. Straining against the soft silk of the tie he bound me with, I raise my head to look over my shoulder for him. His back is turned, giving me a rare peek at the intricate tattoo that fascinates me every time I see it.

Covering the entirety of one shoulder blade and running down his spine, it looks like the inner workings of a clock, with multiple cogs of various sizes. Each cog is different, some basic and utilitarian, others as delicate as lace. The two largest cogs dictate the artwork—one a compass whose magnetic needle is off center to point directly at his heart, and the other is a shattered clock face with cracks obscuring several of the Roman numerals. Above the clockwork, scrawling cursive read, “Tempus non est hostis, sed directionis defectus.”

Time is not the enemy, but rather lack of direction.

Knowing Leo more now, being familiar with his singular drive and laser focus, I understand better the meaning behind the words. His ambition is inexhaustible, and his vision is resolute.

He digs in the dresser for a moment, and when he turns to meet my eyes, his lips curl into a smug grin. He caught me admiring him.

“I hope you got your fill of looking, pet, because now it’s time to take away your sight and see how much more you feel.” He raises the silky-looking black fabric in his hands as he prowls closer.

And when he reaches the bed, he hooks my chin with a finger to steal one slow, scintillating kiss. Then he releases it to cover my eyes with the slip of cloth. My heart kicks up a notch instinctually.

Being bound and blindfolded is equal parts thrilling and unnerving. And suddenly, I’m forced to trust Leo with whatever he decides to do next. Because I won’t see it coming.

Strong fingers stroke my skin, making my pulse race and my lips part as my lungs work erratically. I catch the soft sound of a zipper opening, and my core tightens with anticipation.

Back arching, I quiver, intensely aware of the slick arousal wetting my folds and the inside of my thighs. Then powerful hands grip my hips, raising them off my heels and repositioning me so my butt is in the air, my legs spread. My cheek settles onto the sheets between my arms.

“Stay right there,” Leo commands, his low voice hoarse in the best kind of way.

Then one warm palm comes to rest on the small of my back, and his other hand reaches between my legs to find my clit. I gasp as electric pleasure crackles up my spine, and my hips shove back in response, making the silk tie bite into my wrists.

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