Page 23 of Biker's Conquest: Property of Rage

He takes his socks off before his boxer briefs. Even his feet have tattoos – a pair of matching bear paws. A quote in cursive that I can’t read because the flickering candles won’t allow my mind to focus on what it says. Deacon’s underwear falls next.

I suspect he only wants to get in the bathtub with me for one reason and that honestly scares the crap out of me. My ass cheeks are still brutally cut and I have no desire to satisfy a man. Deacon stares at me as he steps into the water and I keep my back pressed into the tub as far away from him as I can possibly stand. It might be a futile attempt to fight him off, but some fighting has to be betterthan none. His face is calm, no anger detected, although I fear that could change without warning.

As he lowers his hips into the warm water, I try to will my gaze away from his dick as it comes towards my eye level. But I utterly fail to stop myself from staring at Deacon’s cock as he lowers his hips into the water. He has narrow, masculine hips that lead to a thick, muscular ass. I remember this part of him – his strong, domineering body.

He looks like a pale, dangerous Viking, and I can imagine him inspiring fear in anyone’s heart with his gigantic physical size and the fire all over his head and face. Deacon allows his body to sink beneath the water in his deep, fancy tub. He keeps gazing at me with all his anger melted away into a romantic look that feels like he’s luring me into a trap. I refuse to move towards him.

Deacon reaches over the edge of the tub with one hand for a white washcloth before returning his attention to me.

“Come,” he says. “I’m sure you’re in pain.”

I can’t tell if this counts as empathy. Some sign that he’s more than a monster, that there’s actually a person beneath these brutal, sexual beatings. He doesn’t leave room for discussion. It’s a tub, not a ballroom. When I don’t reach for Deacon immediately, he takes my hand beneath the water and pulls me close. My body shudders and shakes. Now that I’m beneath the water and away from his torturous hands, I feel more free to feel and my body mostly trembles from pain, from the intense chill and rush of adrenaline, from the bleeding I want to stop.

Deacon takes the washcloth to my ass and for the first time, his gentleness causes me to yelp out in pain. He holds my body against his as he cleans the wound he caused. He forces my head against his broad, insanely warm chest. I canhear his heart pounding.Monster.How dare he react to this after everything…

He forces me against his body with one arm so he can clean my wounds with the other and I use the opportunity to sink my nails into his chest slowly, but with the intention of causing as much pain as possible. He doesn’t grunt. Doesn’t react. But I need to do this. I need to hurt him back. My heart pounds just as fast as Deacon’s and he just lets me do this to him, focusing his attention on the task at hand – caressing me with more loving strokes each time until I can’t feel more pain and my nails release themselves from his chest muscles like retracted cat claws.

Deacon makes everything worse by dropping his arms away from me and planting a soft, wet kiss on my forehead.

“I know that feels better,” he whispers. “Now let me wash your hair, kitten. You and your sharp claws.”

He takes my hand away from his chest and kisses the top again. I hate him. I hate every confusing thing he makes me feel.

Chapter Fourteen

Rage

Her body trembles from the pain as I clean her beneath the warm, soapy water. She wants to escape the pain, but she can’t. These will hurt for days. Worse even, I plan on inflicting similar pain on her every night until her release date. She struggles not to yelp as I wash one of her deeper wounds.

“Let it out,” I growl, washing her clean and craving so desperatelysomeemotional release from her. She frustrates me endlessly with how much pain she can take and how arousing I find it. I hold her against me and kiss her while I clean her. That first kiss on the forehead melts Keyshawn completely. She makes a soft yelp. Her first noise and my dick nearly stiffens again in the bath.

Fortunately, I have the task of comforting her to distract me and subdue my desires. My hand looks so pale against her dark brown skin. I feel translucent and profoundly aware of how sexy I find her skin color. I don’t know why it’s so taboo tolovesomeone’s skin color but… it’s beautiful. Rich. So much darker than my own. I find the differences between usfascinating and didn’t realize until I had Keyshawn’s lips wrapped around my dick.

If my father could see me now, he would be rolling in his grave. I kiss her shoulders. I kiss her neck. I melt every thought from my head until Keyshawn relaxes completely and nestles into my arms.

Her slow, gentle breathing allows me to steady my own. I feel this strange desire to be closer to her. To hold her for much, much longer before I take her back to her prison. She puts me in such a conflicting situation. Her soft skin against mine and the scent of her makes me incredibly difficult to resist. I kiss her again.

“You should cry out if I cut you that deeply again.”

She shivers at the wordagain,but instead of pulling away from me, Keyshawn’s body nestles closer to mine. Controlling my erection around her is downright impossible. But I have to do it if I want her to feel safe. If I want her brain to return to the blissful, calm state that comes after the high from a scene.

“You enjoy pain,” she says. I can’t tell if it’s a question or if she just wants confirmation of the truth.

“Yes,” I whisper. “But only as much as you love it.”

She squirms uncomfortably, her soft body touching me in all the right places to get me immediately horny in a way that feels so far beyond my control. I have to stop myself.

“I’ll let you stay upstairs for a little while,” I whisper. “But once you fall asleep, you’re going downstairs to your room.”

I don’t want to call it her prison cell and ruin the moment between us, but she responds by tensing up and putting as much distance from me as she can by the mention of my plans for her this evening. I hold her tightly, trying to show her what I can’t say with words. My heart begins to race and Iknow we have to leave this room before I do or say something crazy.

Whenever I think I have some control over myself around her, I lose some part of myself that scares me. Keyshawn, frustratingly enough, doesn’t seem scared at all. I get her out of the tub, taking my time to appreciate her body in all its soaking wet glory. I love her large, dark brown nipples. Her curves…

Once we get to my bedroom, I pull Keyshawn’s supple body beneath the sheets with me. My heart pounds. She has far more control over me than I enjoy, but at least here, I have the assurances of both her compliance and my physical domination over her. Keyshawn shudders as she nestles her ass into my crotch to snuggle with me. I move some of her hair aside from her shoulder so I can kiss my favorite spot. She shivers when my lips touch her there.

I love it because her thick ass cheeks press against my somewhat dry cock and I want to get hard again and use her soft ass pussy to get my dick soaking wet again.

But she smells so good and stopping this just to fuck her doesn’t feel worth it. I want the whole thing and after her twelve nights in prison downstairs, Keyshawn will come to understand that. What other way does a man have to get a woman’s attention these days?

---