Page 93 of The Forbidden Trio

She gave a small nod and waited.

He moved away, then she felt the heat of his big body behind her on the bed, and his bare arm came around her, his hand caressing her breasts, brushing her nipples, teasing them, then giving them quick, hard pinches. He kept at it, teasing, pinching, then pulling, creating that perfect combination of lovely pleasure and pleasurable pain, until she was nearly ready to come once more.

He reached between her thighs. “I knew you’d be wet again, pretty girl. You know I love that.”

His hand swept up her stomach, between her breasts, then his other arm came around her body and she flinched as she felt cold metal against her skin, right above her mound.

“Hold very, very still, now,” he said quietly.

She held her breath, struggling not to panic. Was it a blade? Would he cut her? She tried wildly to remember what she’d agreed to, but she was too far gone in subspace and her brain wouldn’t work.

Trust him.

Yes, she trusted him. But if he had a knife…

He slid the metal edge up the center of her body, over her navel, between her breasts, up to her throat. He stopped there, letting the quickly warming metal rest against her skin. She swallowed, trying to hold the panic back. But with the panic was a sort of pleasure at having faced her fear, even for these brief moments.

For him.

Yes, intense pleasure at pleasing him, because he knew how hard this was for her.

“Good girl,” he whispered against her ear.

She melted against him, her back pressing against his bare chest. When had he taken off his shirt? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she’d made him happy. That he was pushing her boundaries and it was going to be okay.

He slid the knife back down her body, over her stomach, her mound, sweeping over her inner thigh, and this time the flat of it came to rest against her pussy lips.

The fear broke through the pleasure and the endorphins, and she began to tremble.

“Max?”

“Right here, baby.”

“I… it’s too much. Please. I can’t.”

“Is it red, Aster?”

She’d never called red in a scene. Never. But this was simply too damn much. She was too scared.

“Yes! Red!”

“Okay, baby.”

The knife went away and his arms came around her, holding her tight while he kissed the back of her neck, her shoulders, her earlobe.

“I’m going to take you down.”

In moments, he had the cuffs off her and had pulled her into his lap on the bed, a throw blanket wrapped around her.

“You okay?” he asked. “What do you need, baby?”

“Just this,” she said, snuggling closer.

He held her tighter, stroked her hair, kissed her cheek.

“You did so well. I’m so proud of you.”

Her heart swelled at his words, but there was also a small panic she couldn’t seem to shake.

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