Page 55 of Break the Ice
I’m grinning as I dodge the kick of her left leg and then catch her by the ankle. It only takes me a few more seconds to secure the bed restraints on her legs. Her position shifts from a V to an X on my bed.
For a greedy, tortuous moment, I step back and admire the sight.
Marisse March’s gorgeous body, spreadeagle on display. Another intense rush of arousal crashes into me and makes me painfully aware of the heavy erection I’m sporting. I could come just like this, standing at the foot of the bed, drinking in the sight of her.
Marisse is all honey-brown skin and soft curves. She’s wild red curls and flushed, full features. Stiff nipples, swollen lips, glistening pussy.
She’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
Muscle strains in my jaw as I bite back my urges and force myself to remain calm.
Sugar needs to be punished. She not only deserves to be, but deep down, she wants to be.
Her breaths are hasty and uneven. Her chest rises, then falls. She glares up at me with eyes darkened by hate and lust.
She can’t stand that she has to be mine in these moments or risk failing the dare and losing the game. Yet she couldn’t be more turned on.
I could swipe my tongue along the seam of her pussy and trace the dewy droplets of her arousal if I wanted to.
This game we’re playing might be twisted and toxic, but it’s a game we’re both invested in. Regardless of how hard Marisse wishes otherwise.
She thrashes in place, tethered down by the bed restraints. The struggle becomes a form of entertainment in itself.
I’m grinning, turning my back on her and pulling open the third drawer in my dresser. It’s the drawer where I keep a few of the toys I use on my conquests. Most groupies and Ice Girls are into the same things I am… and if they’re not, they pretend just so they can say they fucked Rafe Golding.
I select the crop with a narrow tress, testing the bend of the leather. A hockey stick isn’t the only instrument I’ve got a talent for using.
Marisse’s eyes widen when I turn to face the bed and she spies what’s in my hand.
“You said nothing about any crops!” she croaks.
I laugh. “You know how the game goes. Truth or dare for five rounds. Dare, you do what I’ve requested of you. Truth, we find out what the rest of the world thinks about Marisse March murdering her boss, the beloved Jasper Hawk.”
She grits her teeth, hate sharpening her features. “You get off on having this over me!”
“You’re right,” I admit, thwacking the crop against the mattress. Only six inches away from where her legs are stretched wide open. “I do get off on knowing your secret, Sugar. It makes me unbelievably hard to get to use you. Turn you into my filthy little slut. Make you hate me so fucking much and then make you fucking come. All while knowing it’s me who has you squirting with pleasure.”
“I’ll never take pleasure in this!” she hisses, her voice poisoned with venom.
“Your dripping wet cunt says differently.” I run my finger along her slick pussy lips and lick off the taste. “Fuck, that’s good. I’m going to enjoy tonight.”
“Because you’re evil incarnate.”
“But, first, the rules for this round,” I go on, ignoring her insult. “You’re going to maintain eye contact the entire time. I want your eyes on me, watching your punishment. You’re going to tell me where you were tonight and what you were doing. Then you’re going to ask for my forgiveness. I’m going to decide if I forgive you. And just how swollen I want to make that uptight little pussy of yours. If it becomes too much at any point and you need to stop… you say my name. Alpha.”
I swat the leather crop on the inside of her right thigh—not too hard, not too soft, just enough for a flicker of pain—and I earn a startled yelp out of her.
“You say Alpha, and it stops. But you fail the dare. Lose the round. The game is over. Are we clear, Sugar?”
A snarly little purr emits from her throat that’s amusingly similar to a feline. She’s still shooting venom at me, her eyes so narrow, they’re dark slits. Through gritted teeth, she says, “Clear. But I’m never giving in, and I won’t be apologizing.”
My brows raise, my grin slanting. “That suits me just fine. We have all night. Go ahead. Tell me where you were. What you were doing.”
She takes in a sharp breath, as if it’ll calm her down and ease some of her anger. “I already tried to tell you. I was out for dinner at Gourmande with my best friend. It’s one of our favorite restaurants.”
“Did management know you took the night off?” I tap the crop against the mattress, only a couple inches away from her. She flinches anyway. “They knew you weren’t showing up to the game?”
“Beringer knew.”
