Page 78 of Pretty Little Thing

Twenty

Nora

I smile at Clive.“Yes, Mr. Snow.”

His gaze glides down my body before he leans over and slips the cuffs around the bars of my headboard. He waits for a moment, softly staring into my eyes, giving me one last chance to back out. I do nothing.

He closes the other cuff around my left wrist, locking them in place above my head.

Clive climbs onto the bed and settles between my spread legs. I look down at our naked bodies, admiring his hard cock as it rests on my mound.

He moves forward and balances on his arms above me. “Kiss me,” he says.

I part my lips and raise my head to meet his mouth. It’s a soft, slow kiss, but full of heat and need. He massages our tongues together, turning me on even more. His cock presses harder against me. I want to satisfy him so badly. I want him to take me hard and fast but the look in his eyes tells me that he will make this last.

As Clive sits back, my eyes rush down his body again. His sock has rolled down his right foot, revealing the skin beneath and my silent breath catches. A deep, jagged scar is carved up his calf above his ankle. Dark red and menacing. It’s a wonder he even walks at all.

I pull my eyes away from it before he notices me staring. He sets his hands on my thighs and gazes down at me.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

I twist my wrists, locked in place, but I feel no nerves about it. I nod. “Yes, Mr. Snow.”

He reaches for his water on the bedside table and takes a sip, widening his mouth to capture an ice cube between his teeth. He sets the glass down and turns back to me with squinting, devious eyes as he leans downward toward my breasts.

I gasp slightly as Clive rolls the ice over my right nipple like a frozen tongue. My nipple piques and I chuckle as the melted water falls down my belly. He moves to my left nipple, performing the same slow circles until that one stands to hard attention as well.

Clive drops the cube into my lap and leaves it there to melt. He pinches my nipples softly — at least, it feels that way.

“Does that hurt?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No.”

“No pain at all?”

“None.”

Clive smirks and opens his fist, revealing the object from his pants pocket I already forgot about. Two metal pinchers with rubber tips connected together by a short chain.

Nipple clamps.

I tense up. He notices, of course.

“I’m sorry—” I laugh. “I just have really sensitive nipples.”

“Good,” he says, bringing one of the clamps close to my breasts.

I recoil on impulse. “Wait, wait, wait—”

“Nora, sit still.” He looks at me and that hard stare settles with sympathy. “I want to know your limits,” he says, leaning in. “Don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“You’ll never know for sure unless you push yourself a little.” He kisses me again, soft and slow. “Right?”

I swallow. “Right.”

“Close your eyes,” he whispers. “Count to ten.”

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