Page 78 of Princess Broken

“You promised that if I ever did anything you don’t enjoy, that if I go too far, that you’d stop me.”

I nod, quickly wondering how I’m going to do that without talking.

“We need a safe word,” he says. “Something you’ll say if you really want me to stop.”

“How about stop?” I ask, joking, and then brace myself for another swat on my behind, slightly disappointed when it doesn’t come.

“It’s got to be something you wouldn’t say,” he says.

I frown. “Why wouldn’t ‘stop’ work?”

Cupping my face, he kisses me. “You might say stop without really meaning it.”

My lips twist to the side. I don’t say things I don’t mean—except for maybe little white lies to protect someone’s feelings—but I don’t see any harm in going along with Flame’s safe word idea. And I do see harm in anything that’s going to keep him from pushing his hardness inside of me—as soon as possible. The anticipation is killing me.

“What safe word do you typically use?” I brace for another smack. Again it doesn’t come.

“Never used one before.” He looks to the side. “Like I said, I’ve never given a shit about the females I’ve fucked. I only fuck vampires. No humans. Vampires heal.”

The shame on his face is clear. He’s caused a lot of pain. Or assumes that he has.

“How about ‘fire’?” I suggest a safe word that relates to Flame himself.

He shakes his head as he makes eye contact again. “Fire might come up.” Ideas spark in his eyes. “The word needs to be something innocuous, bland, ordinary.”

“Sky.” I suggest, although the color of his eyes might also be in my head during sex, especially if I get lost in them.

“Sky.” He smiles. “That’ll do.”

“Good.” If I utter the word by accident, I’ll just ask him to start up again.

“Now.” He grins. “No more talking. Not unless that word is ‘sky’.”

I nod.

Taking his hands off my face, he shifts to the other side of the horse. His zipper lowers, the sound making me squirm, and then breath hisses out of his chest. I suspect his fingers are handling his hardness. Hardness I want inside me.

I spread my legs as wide as I can, but sense him moving away from me.

What’s going on? I dare not ask aloud.

Returning quickly, he puts my foot in the loop of some kind of strap. “Relax your legs,” he says, then he quickly tugs on the strap.

My leg is pulled to the side. Testing it, I realize I can’t slide my leg back to the center, and while I’m testing that, he does the same to my other ankle, fastening the straps to something, possibly the legs of the horse.

My sex is fully exposed now, opened to him as I lie bent over, him looking at me from behind. He grunts again, and I sense movement.

In a flash, he’s in front of me again. He ties my wrists together and then stretches my arms forward, tying the end of the strap to something on the floor ahead of me. I strain to lift my head. He’s tied my arms to some kind of anchor that’s holding up another piece of gymnasium equipment, but I can’t see it from my angle.

I truly can’t move now. I’m so stretched out, I can’t even shift my hips.

“From this moment, you aren’t Ana,” he says from behind me again. “You’re no one. No one to me. Unless you use your safe word, you are some random female who’s offered her cunt to me.”

Fear tinged excitement shivers through me. The first time Flame fucked me, I was facing away from him. And that seemed plenty vigorous, plenty impersonal, and the idea that he’s been holding back is terrifying, yet titillating.

My insides squeeze tightly, and I’m not sure whether it’s from excitement, or my inner muscles expressing terror and wanting to keep him out.

“Nod if you understand,” he says gruffly.

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