Page 11 of The Cruelty of Thorns

“That is beside the point,” I panted, working hard to concentrate past her seduction.

She pressed her body against mine, her nipples hard against my chest as her arms encircled me, her hands moving ever so slowly down my back to cup my ass while her warm breath teased my ear. Sight, smell, sound, touch–she filled my senses, overwhelming me. She was the most bewitching woman I had ever met, and I realized I was in over my head. I could not escape her spell, and the worst part was, I was no longer sure I wanted to.

“I wasn’t finished with you last night,” she whispered. “Can you blame me for wanting more?”

There was something I wanted to say, but I couldn’t hold the thought in my head. Think, damn it, I urged myself while her hands found their way under my shurt. She reached up and grabbed the fabric in front and ripped it off my shoulders, her dark eyes sparking with hunger.

“That’s much better,” she murmured as she turned her attention to my breeches. “Remember what I said about too many clothes?” I couldn’t remember anything at this point. She pulled the buttons loose and shoved the ruined garment down my legs. “This is how I want you from now on.”

From now on? What did that mean?

I wasn’t given time to wonder before she was on me, her tongue and teeth teasing the skin of my neck before moving lower to suck one of my nipples into her mouth while she pushed me slowly toward the bed. I tried to grab her, to return the favor and remove her gown, but she captured my wrists and held them above my head and despite my struggles, I found I could not break her hold.

“I think I want you standing up,” she said, her honeyed voice silencing my objections. She reached behind me and grabbed one of the tassel cords hanging from the bedframe and wrapped it around my left wrist, pulling it taut. “Don’t move,” she warned while she did the same to my right wrist. She obviously had a thing for tying people up.

I strained to stay on my feet, my arms stretched above me so tight I could barely maintain my balance. She stood back and regarded me, one finger tapping her bottom lip while her other hand dropped to my cock, encircling and teasing it so hard I felt like I would scream.

“Let’s see how much you can take, shall we?”

She untied the sash of her gown, letting it fall off her shoulders and puddle on the floor, treating me to the sight of her voluptuous body. My cock jumped in response, bringing a smile to her perfect lips before she turned and crossed the room to a side table where a large vase of roses stood. She leaned over them, breathing deeply, before selecting one and pulling it out of the vase.

“Do you know what I love about roses?” she asked languidly as she made her way back to my side. I shook my head, content just to bask in the warmth of her voice. “It’s not the perfection of the bloom itself, though that is lovely to look at. Nor is it the scent–one of my favorites, by the way. No, what I love most about roses is the thorns.”

She held the rose up to me, passing the flower under my nose where the sweet scent filled my head. She traced the velvety bloom across my cheek and down my chest along the furrows her nails had left the night before, spreading gooseflesh in its wake.

“Do you wonder at how close pleasure is to pain?”

Suddenly it wasn’t the softness of the bloom that caressed my chest but the sharp bite of the thorns. I hissed and sucked in a breath as she dragged the stem across the already injured skin. “Hush,” she whispered. “Not enough to draw blood.” She brought the stem down to my torso. “Not yet.”

I stared wide-eyed as she scraped the stem closer to my cock, hissing in a breath at the first bite of the thorns on my head.

“I promise,” she breathed as she licked her lips, “I will personally remove any blood they draw.”

Then she pulled the thorns across my cock. I bit back a scream and squirmed to get away from the cursed stem, but she grabbed my straining appendage and held me in place.

“You will come to enjoy such pain.”

She closed her hand on the stem, pressing it against the sensitive skin. Tears pricked my eyes but I refused to utter a sound. I would not give her the satisfaction of knowing she had hurt me.

She watched my reaction and smiled to herself, a wicked gleam in her eye. “You may be stronger than I thought. It’ll make breaking you that much sweeter.”

Breaking me? My gaze dropped to her hand, where I could see blood pooling between her fingers and wasn’t sure if it was her hand or my tortured member that bled. “Please stop,” I finally sobbed, suddenly desperate to get away from her.

“Shh,” she soothed. “Imagine how much more intensely these wounds will make you feel when they’re rubbing inside my cunt.”

“You’re insane,” I lashed out, not caring if I hurt her feelings.

“There, there, Julianus. You have so much to learn about pleasuring a woman.”

“How can you call this pleasure?”

She offered a throaty chuckle. “As I said, you will learn.” She pulled the stem away and leaned closer to me, her eyes imperious. “And if you do not, we will revisit the pain. You should not have tried to leave today.”

“So what was that, my punishment?”

Her lips curled up in a smile as she reached above me and untied my wrists. “Now you will be well-motivated to please me.”

She shoved me back onto the bed and climbed on top of me, her face inches from mine, her dark eyes seeming to drink the light from the room. “You will make love to my cunt with your tongue, and be warned–if I am not satisfied, I have many ways to punish you.” She then flipped off me and stretched out on her back with her knees bent, her legs spread wide, her sex calling to me. I could see it was already moist with need, and part of me, the part that was still a sexual being, wanted to fall upon it and lose myself in its mysteries.

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