Page 112 of Stalked By Seduction and Shadows

I tried to calm my racing heart, but then I remembered the size of him. Helia, help me.

I’d never wanted anything more than Rune’s ultimate unraveling. I wanted him to take my body and use it however he wished. I wanted him to bend me, to grab me, to hold me down and drive himself so deep that he lost his last threads of control. I wanted to be a part of his every thought, his every dream, his every desire.

When smooth leather skated over the curve of my backside, I inhaled sharply. The leather softly tapped against my ass, and I realized how wrong I’d been about his intentions.

I couldn’t help the whimper that escaped my throat.

“Your adorable little noises won’t save you now,” he mocked.

In his cruel voice, I could clearly hear his centuries of experience in torture. This thought should have sent me running, but my feet stayed rooted.

As if Rune would ever let me go.

“Make it to five without error, and I’ll stop hurting you.” He laughed to himself. “For now, of course.”

I clamped my mouth shut, only nodding, my every muscle tense and my nerves still throbbing for his touch.

The leather cracked like lightning, and this time, I screamed.

I fought the urge to reach back and rub where he’d hit. “One. Thank you, Rune.”

“That was my favorite sound yet.” Desire was thick in his voice. “You should be terrified of how hard your screaming makes me.”

That was a harrowing thought. Why then did it only make me ache for him more? It was alarming how much his violence stoked the deepest, most repressed parts of me. His obsession, his games, his cruelty… they frightened me, but they thrilled me even more.

Underneath the veil of shame and guilt, I knew without a doubt that what I wanted most was to live inside the shadows with him.

The second strike was harder. The third one harder than the second.

More tears brimmed my eyes, and my legs shook. On the fourth, I twisted my torso, my legs closing as I choked on a sob.

“Don’t fail now, baby,” Rune said gently. He moved closer, his touch soft as he guided my legs back to where they were once planted. “You can take one more for me, can’t you?”

I nodded, and he kissed the top of my head, briefly running his fingers through my hair.

His gentleness had been merely a ruse. The final strike was the hardest yet, sending me to my knees as I said my final thank you.

He was quick to scoop me up and lay me down on the burgundy carpet. I winced at my ass rubbing against the coarse fabric.

“You were so strong for me,” Rune said.

I melted into his voice, the pain carrying me into a sensation of utter weightlessness, no thoughts remaining except my awareness of his touch.

I stared into his hardened features, but it was the warmth, the adoration, the devotion in his eyes that I lost myself inside.

“It hurt, but… why did it also feel good, after the pain moved through?” I asked, my voice dreamy and breathy.

Rune kissed my forehead. “Pain triggers a hormonal cocktail in the brain that can be quite pleasurable, all in an effort to soothe us. When wielded correctly, pain can become just as powerful a way to induce euphoria as sensual touch. Besides death, suffering is what we fear most, what most beings try to avoid at all costs. The stronger are the ones that accept that all pain, emotional and physical, are the most natural and inevitable parts of our existence. Those who find a way to make suffering beautiful again are the strongest of all.”

He kissed my chest, moving slowly to the hardened peak of my breast. His words cascaded over me like a gentle stream, washing away as soon as he’d pulled my nipple into his mouth. I moaned, my eyes fluttering shut.

“Fine,” I whispered, as I lay in this soft, cloudy field of euphoria. “I missed you terribly.”

Rune grazed my nipple with his teeth before releasing it. “I know you did.” He kissed my sternum.

He teased the first nipple between his fingers, softly pinching as he drew the second into his mouth. At the lightest bite, the sharpness of his canines digging into my flesh, I pulsed with indescribable need. I whimpered and reached, running my hands through his hair. He didn’t restrain me, didn’t deliver any more pain or roughness. It was as though he knew I’d reached my limit, as miraculously in tune with me as he always was.

He allowed me to float, untethered, riding the waves of desire searing my blood. Though he was gentler, his grip was just as possessive. It was as if his every touch was an act of ownership. He explored my body, fingers skimming over my skin, his mouth kissing, sucking, tormenting.

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