Page 76 of Carnival Shadows

Those green eyes, wide with desire, hold mine for a long moment. I claim Eden’s mouth in a fierce kiss despite the fact she’s still hanging upside down, my tongue invading her mouth upside down as thoroughly as I plan to dominate her body.

When I break the kiss, her lips are swollen, and her breath comes in short gasps. I step back, take in her exposed form, and strip off my shirt. The night wind teases my skin, matching the heat of my arousal.

I move to the ropes I prepared earlier, hidden in the shadows of nearby trees. The moonlight catches the thick cords as I pull them taut. Eden’s body sways gently in her suspended position, completely at my mercy.

Approaching her again, I grasp her wrists firmly. She struggles weakly, but we both know it’s just part of our game. The rope feels rough against my palms as I secure her arms, creating an intricate pattern to hold her weight safely.

With practiced movements, I adjust the tension on both sets of ropes. Eden’s body lifts higher, suspended between four points instead of just the ankle trap. Her form creates a graceful arc in the air.

I test each knot carefully, ensuring they’re secure but not too tight. Years of working with rigging at the carnival havetaught me the importance of proper rope work. Eden’s breathing steadies as she feels the security of my expert ties.

The night wind whispers through the trees. Eden hangs suspended in my web of ropes, completely immobilized. Perfect.

Her body is perfect, suspended, and waiting. I use the blade to tease her skin. Her breath catches as the cool metal dances over sensitive places, mapping the contours of her breasts, her ribs, and the curves of her hips. I take my time, wanting to savor every reaction.

Her voice is hoarse when she speaks, fighting against the bindings. “Let me go. You don’t want to do this.”

But we both know that’s a lie. Eden might play the part of an unwilling victim, but she wants this as much as I do.

Goosebumps rise on her skin, her nipples tightening to points in the cool air.

“Please...” she whispers, a tremor running through her body. “I don’t want this.”

Her eyes flicker shut, long lashes casting shadows on her flushed cheeks. I smile, knowing this dance of resistance and surrender. She pretends to resist my touch each time, pretending she’s not craving more.

The night wind caresses her bare skin, accentuating the beauty of her form. Her breasts rise and fall with each rapid breath, nipples taut. Her bound arms strain against the ropes, their intricate patterns pressing against her skin.

With deliberate slowness, I reach for her again, needing her response. My fingers trail along the curve of her breast, circling her nipple but avoiding it. She holds her breath, a soft whimper escaping as I deny her release.

“Tell me again,” I growl, my voice hoarse. “Tell me what you don’t want.”

Her back arches. “Don’t touch me,” she gasps. “Don’t do this to me.”

I love the game we play, the battle of desire and denial. My fingers trace lower, ghosting over the curve of her belly. She strains away from my touch, but the ropes offer no escape.

“Who am I, little stalker?” I ask, letting my fingers dip lower into her wet cunt.

“No...” Her hips buck, an instinctive reaction that exposes her need. “Please... don’t.”

“Tell me,” I demand, thrusting my fingers inside her.

She cries out as I stretch her, fill her. Her body clenches around me, betraying her words. “You’re my captor,” she gasps. “Please, let me go...”

I withdraw my fingers, slick with her arousal. She makes a soft noise of protest, hips thrusting forward in search of more. I chuckle, raising my fingers to my mouth and tasting her.

Her taste on my lips fuels my need, intensifying the ache coiled tight in my body. Her skin shines with a layer of sweat, moonlight casting silver highlights on her glistening form.

She struggles weakly, but her strength is no match for my ropes.

“Please,” she whispers again, the word like a needle in my mind. “No more.”

But I have no intention of stopping. Not when her scent drives me mad, or her body is laid out for me like a feast. I will savor every inch of her, take what I want when I want it.

I lower myself to my knees, keeping my eyes locked on hers as I lift the mask. Eden watches me with anticipation in her gaze. When she realizes my intention, a soft gasp escapes her.

I waste no time. My tongue and lips claim her pussy, feasting on her arousal as she hangs helplessly. She cries out, hips bucking, her body desperate for more.

My hands clutch her bound thighs, holding her in place as I work my magic. Her cries echo through the trees, music to my ears.

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