Page 61 of Brutal Savior

I pick her up, and she kicks at me as I cart her into the bedroom. I grab a pair of cuffs from a drawer, dump her on the bed, and fasten her hands behind her back. Her top is askew, half her bra on display, and smears of chocolate cover her face. She glares at me.

“Have you ever had your arse cropped?”

Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “No. Please. I was just messing around. I was bored and—”

“And you wanted a reaction. You’re getting one.”

She manages to shuffle to the edge of the bed, gets her legs down, and takes off toward the door. Where the fuck does she think she’s going? I snatch her up with one arm and collect a crop from the rack with the other. I swoosh it through the air and smile at the noise. God, I love that sound.

I land her face down on the bed. “Run away one more time and see what happens.”

Her skirt has ridden up, showing a pink G-string underneath, matching the bra. Christ, I love her tight little arse. I raise the crop and bring it down in a hard smack.

“Fuck!” She jerks like I’ve hit her with a taser. I press a heavy hand into her back, holding her still, and slash down again. Red welts form where the crop lands, and it’s so fucking beautiful. I want to paint her whole body with it.

My fingers itch, my blood races, and I strike again. And again. I’m moving down her creamy skin, and when I hit the soft spot at the top of her thighs, the tone of her cries change. The anger is gone, and it’s more of a whimper.

Music to my ears.

Two more, and she’s mewling into the bed. I tap her sore ass with my hand. “Don’t move.”

She doesn’t, and I collect the two special items and the lube.

I slash down with the crop again, halfway down one thigh. She squeals, and I part her thighs. “Stay still now.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Quinn

I promised myself I’dtry and make some headway with Jacob today. Talk to him, find out more about him. But time dragged on, the locked door started to piss me off more and more, and as soon as he opened it, I couldn’t help poking the bear.

And now look where it’s got me.

Hot stripes burn across my ass and thighs, and I can taste chocolate on my lips from where he smeared it across my face. I don’t want to think about what I must look like. The tip of something presses against my pussy, but it’s much too small to be his cock. What weird thing does he have planned now? Why can’t he just fuck me like a normal guy?

I shouldn’t want it, but last night, after he reminded me I mustn’t touch myself, it was all I could think about. I hardly slept, lying there alone, my hand creeping toward my clit of its own accord until the warning buzz made me snatch it back.

I spent the whole night tossing and turning, craving the thing I couldn’t have. Another reason I felt like rubbing chocolate all over his stupid sofa.

If he’d just fuck me, I know I’d get off. It wouldn’t even take me long. But no, he’s put something thin inside me. What the hell?

Next, he’s probing at my ass yet again, sliding in another plug. “What’s your obsession with sticking stuff up there?”

He twists the plug, and I groan. Even that feels good, I’m wound so tight. If I could only touch my damn clit for a second.

“Your arse belongs to me, so I’ll stick whatever I like up there.”

It shouldn’t sound sexy, but in his flat British accent, somehow, it does.

When the thing in my pussy starts to vibrate, I shriek and roll to face Jacob. He doesn’t stop me this time, just smiles down at me. It only vibrates for a couple of seconds, just enough to tease, then shuts off. What the…

Another burst, longer this time, but nowhere near long enough. A longer break, then a single, tiny buzz. Christ. I press my thighs together, understanding dawning as Jacob says, “It’s set on a random pattern. Maybe at some point, it’ll go long enough for you to come. Maybe not. It’s out of my control.”

My mouth drops open at the calculated cruelty of it. Another, longer buzz. Maybe…

Nope. It stops.

Fuck this.

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