Page 20 of Shackled

“Are you going to tell me anything now?”

She swallows hard, her tongue flicking out to wet her lips. My dick aches, imagining how fucking good it would be to have that gorgeous, pouty, full mouth wrapped around my cock.

Another option, if I need it. I’ll keep that shit in mind.

I drag the knife downward, just enough to leave a trace of a line on her skin. She gasps, her back arching toward the blade.

“What do you want to know?” she whispers in a hoarse voice.

“What is your brother planning?” I twist the blade and trace the curve of her breast. She whimpers softly, her hands fisting. It’s the first sign of any weakness. She isn’t impermeable, then.

“Stay still, Isabella,” I snap, my voice a low command.

I love the way her name rolls off my tongue. I love having her at my command. To win the attention of a woman like this would be a man’s crowning joy. To win her devotion, his absolute triumph. Beauty is fleeting, but her fire and brilliance, her indomitable spirit and fierce intelligence behind those captivating eyes—now that’s what drives a man to his knees.

Her breath becomes erratic as I continue my slow, tortuous path with the blade. The knife passes over her stomach, and I watch her emotions play out on her face—excitement, definite arousal, and something that hints at fear.

“Good girl,” I praise softly. Still testing. Every word and move a litmus test. I pause with my knife just above her pubic area. I let it rest there, a silent threat. When she bites her lip and stifles a moan, I turn the knife so the hard nub of the handle is at the vee between her thighs. I press it down. It slides easily through her slick folds. She bucks and whimpers.

“Do you want to come, Isabella? Do you want a reward?” I circle the handle of the knife and press it further down between her legs.

Her mouth parts open in a silent gasp, her eyes filled with horror and anticipation. Holding her gaze, I press the handle deeper in. Her breathing hitches as I slide it in and out.

“You like this,” I say in a low whisper. “You dirty, dirty little slut.” A wicked grin lights her face, and she spreads her legs wider.

“Takes one to know one,” she says in a breathy whisper. A trickle of arousal wets my fingers. I slow my pace and watch her reaction, then draw the handle of the blade slowly, so slowly, until it’s nearly out. She whimpers and writhes, her pelvis arching when I shove it back into her hot, slick folds. I twist it and press my thumb to her clit this time.

“Oh God,” she moans as I build a rhythm.

“Let’s hear it,” I whisper in her ear. “What was your brother planning?”

I hold the blade still. She tries to force friction, but her position makes it impossible. I move it just a slight bit. She parts her legs and whimpers.

“I don’t know,” she says, but this time she won’t look in my eyes.

I shove the handle fully in, and her head falls back. I toss it to the floor, kneel in front of her, and spread her legs wide.

I’ve found my method of interrogation that just might work with her. I part her legs and slide my tongue between her pussy folds. I let the tip taste the tiniest drop of her arousal. I swallow, keeping myself in check with effort.

“Oh God,” she says, her wrists straining with the effort of keeping herself in place. She whispers a stream of something in Spanish I can’t quite identify, but I hear a few curse words mingled in.

I’ll break this woman, no matter what it takes—spanking, pain, sexual intimidation.

“What do you know? Who sent you?” Anger creeps into my voice. I realize it isn’t just her presence that’s a threat but the mental challenge she presents.

“I can’t tell you,” she says on a whimper. “Stop fucking asking me.”

I grip her thighs and nip her clit. She screams and shakes, but I don’t miss the way her pussy clenches around my fingers when I shove into her. I lick her, a slow, deliberate stroke of my tongue through her folds before I pull back and hold her gaze with mine.

“You know,” I say lazily. I shove my fingers in her core but hold them still. “Tell me what you know.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” I say, shaking my head before I lick her clit again. “You can and you will. None of them know where you are, remember? There’s no one here to save you. No one to rescue you.”

Her eyes flash at me, and she clenches her teeth. “I don’t need a fucking man to save me.”

I chuckle. My breath on her thighs makes her skin pebble. “You’re naked and tied to chains in my basement. No tracker on you. No one who gives a fuck about where you are or what you’re doing.” I shake my head. “I don’t know why you’re holding out.”

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