She could feel him shuffle around, hear his boots moving along the thin carpeting. Another crack then another, and she jolted in her bonds. It would come soon. Could she take it without embarrassing herself? Embarrassing him? Could she make him proud of her again?
The tip of the whip cracked, breaking the sound barrier, close to her left ear, and she let out a scream. Her arms ached from the tension, and she jerked to the side. The next snap to her right, and she jerked away again.
Her jaw ached, her lungs burned from breathing. Would he just do it already? Just strike her and give her the fiery stripe?
“My god, you’re fucking perfect, sweetheart.” His words heated her ear, his body pressed from behind her into the wood beams of the cross. The whip wrapped around her throat, pulling her head back toward him. She opened her eyes, seeing him through a blur of unshed tears.
Holding her in place with the new leash, he reached down her body, scratching his nails along her belly until he reached her waxed sex.
“So fucking wet.”
Was she? Of course she was. How had that happened? How had he turned her fear into arousal? She bucked beneath his touch, his fingertip almost too rough on her swollen, wanting clit.
Then he was gone. The heavy whip still wrapped around her neck, hanging down her back while he went about unhooking her from the cross.
“Don’t move,” he ordered, and smacked her ass hard when she tried to step her feet together.
Once her hands were freed, he grasped her shoulders and spun her until she faced him. Her hands were secured right back over her head in the cuffs. Her feet snapped back into the bonds, and she watched him move about her body, placing her in the position he wanted. Even if she wanted to stop him, to change her mind, she wasn’t sure her limbs would move.
Then his eyes were in line with hers, and his nose nuzzled her own.
“The fear of my whip turns you on. Giving me that power, letting me use your fear to manipulate you and do as we both want, giving me that control, makes your pussy so fucking wet, you’re nearly dripping down your fucking leg.”
She blinked and licked her lips. It was the only reaction she could muster.
Using both hands, he dug his fingernails into her chest, just above the swell of her breasts. She winced, groaned but didn’t pull away. Down, lower, harder he dragged his nails, over her nipples, across her ribs. She twisted, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.
He grinned at her, watching her expression as he made his way back up her torso and returned to her breasts. “I want to flog these.” He lightly slapped her breasts. “But I’m hungry for something else right now.”
She blinked, and he was gone—on his knees between her legs, his mouth just a breath away from her sex. Her pulsating, greedy sex.
And then he was on her. His tongue, soft and tender, licked up her slit. She moaned, wanting her hands free to touch him, to put her hands in his hair. He licked, suckled, and when she thought it was too much, he bit down on her clit. She screamed out and he knelt back, looking up at her.
“I could eat your pretty pussy all afternoon when you scream like that for me. Let’s see if I can make you do it again.” He kept his eyes locked on hers but his fingers pulled her lips apart, making her clit jut out even further.
Flashing her a toothy grin, he leaned forward, sucking her clit between his teeth, biting and licking the little nub until she cried out again, twisting in her cuffs. Too much pleasure, she tried to buck away, but the restraints gave no reprieve.
“Blake!” she cried, but he didn’t stop. His tongue lavished her, circling and pressing, licking then nipping.
This powerful man knelt before her, on his knees, servicing her, yet she was at his command. She was still his to torment and pleasure.
“Oh!” She arched, her buttocks tensing as she pushed her pelvis closer to him, her orgasm only a tongue stroke away.
Two fingers thrust upward into her sex, and his tongue flattened against her clit. Clenching her eyes, she screamed, the waves of her release sweeping her away from any reality she could focus on. His fingers pumped into her, curling at the tips and dragging her orgasm out.
Finally, it ebbed. Her breathing was erratic and her muscles twitched beneath the strain of holding herself in place.
He pulled his fingers out, making a show of licking them clean then wiping the back of his hand across his wet lips. “Delicious.”
She raised her head and watched him as he moved back. The whip dangled from around her neck, the handle brushing against her nipple as her breath continued to come in deep bursts.
“But we aren’t done yet, sweetheart.”
He grasped the whip, and yanked it from around her neck. A broken sob escaped her, but she wasn’t pleading for mercy.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Blake had never tasted ambrosia, but he doubted it was as sweet as Aubree’s pussy. He could have spent the rest of the afternoon on his knees before her, licking and taunting her. But she was pulling too hard on her cuffs, and wouldn’t be able to handle too much longer strung up on the rig.