Page 72 of The Candlemaker

My jaw hardened, and I lifted the candle over her chest. “Not tonight.” I dripped more wax onto her chest, the pain putting an end to that thought. I glanced down at my cock and let out a tight breath.Fuck.The swollen, red length confirmed that I wouldn’t survive her touch.

My focus returned to Frankie, sinking two fingersinto the hot pool of wax and dragging it in a spiral around her breast all the way to her nipple.

“God, I love the color this turns your skin,” I rumbled, watching the heat char her skin to crimson.

“Please.” She writhed and twisted around the word like a fire stoked to life by my touch.

As much as I wanted to torture her, it was too much torture for me. I wanted her so damn bad.

“Let’s see how wet you are, my little flame,” I rasped and poured another stream of wax—the last of what was stored around the wick—from her sternum onto her stomach.

The sounds she made as she quivered went straight to my dick, the damn thing throbbing so fucking painfully I was starting to not see straight. But I ignored it as I wiped my fingers on the blanket and reached between her legs.

Our gazes locked. Hers was pulsing like twin golden embers. And mine, well, I was sure I looked like an animal. I wanted to see that look of surprise on her face when I made her come—the look no one else gave her. Fitting because I was going to give her an orgasm unlike anyone else either.

“Let’s see how well you melted for me,” I rasped and moved my hand higher up her thigh, watching the way her breath caught and her eyes flitted a little wider, and then the way that perfect mouth of her parted with relief when I slid my fingers through the seam of her pussy.

“Fuck…” She was so damn wet. Molten and wet and mine.

“Chandler,” she moaned and arched into my touch.

The heat of the wax was nothing compared to the heat of her cunt. I didn’t even recognize the sound that escaped my lips as I pushed my fingers inside her, my thumb rolling over her clit.

“You burn so good for me, my little flame.” I didn’t know where the endearment kept coming from, but Iwouldn’t take it back even if I could. Not when she looked at me like she did—not when her body responded like it did.

I worked my fingers inside her, sliding in and out like her pussy was a damn instrument I played to hear the melody of her moans.

“Yes.”She bucked when I found her G-spot, her body becoming putty to my fingers. Before long, she was nothing more than trembling muscles and a frantic heartbeat, chasing the release my touch promised. “Please, Chandler…”Her head thrashed, her fists curling into the blanket above her head.

My breaths turned labored, watching how fucking beautiful she looked as pleasure unraveled her tight control.

She could fool everyone else, but she couldn’t fool me. Frankie was all fun and games for everyone but herself. When it came to her own life, it was business, business, and more business. When you spent almost ninety-six hours straight with a person, there wasn’t a chance to hide faults—to hide much of anything. And I wasn’t sure Frankie would’ve even tried to hide that she was married to her candles. It was an admirable quality right up until my lips first tasted hers.

Then it became a challenge.

A challenge to bend my rules for the sole success of breaking hers.

She started to tense, her body quivering around my fingers. She was so fucking close, one thrust of my cock would send her over the edge. But I wanted more. This woman didn’t need anything from anyone, but so help me God, I wanted her to need me. Desperately. More than independence. More than oxygen. More than anything.

So, I stroked her inner wall, coaxed her orgasm right to the edge—right to where her jaw dropped and her eyes squeezed shut—and then I stilled my fingers and tipped the candlein my other hand, scorching the edge of her pleasure with another drip of hot wax low on her stomach.

“Chandler!” She bucked, her eyes snapping wide.

Her body jerked, the searing pain pulling her back from the edge of release. Her wide gaze swirled with shock and pleasure and pain, her chest heaving to try and catch her unsteady breaths.

A slow smile dragged at my lips. “Again.”

Her mouth parted, and she choked out, “I can’t—” She broke off with a moan as I rubbed her clit, the tight, aching bud so fucking desperate for release. “Chandler…”

“I thought you said you could handle the burn, my little flame,” I growled, starting to pump my fingers inside her again. Now my cock was leaking steadily, knowing how fucking prepared she was going to be for me. How tight and desperate she would be.

She moaned and her thighs drifted apart, her body answering before her voice did, “I can.”

“Good girl,” I rasped, and I stroked her clit like I was fanning the most delicate flame. The sound of her slick heat taking the thrust of my fingers consumed me, my next words coming out raw and rough and absolutely fucking feral. “Because you only get my cock when you come through the pain.”

Frankie shuddered, a rush of heat drenching my fingers.

“That’s it,” I growled, pumping my fingers faster and lifting the candle over her trembling stomach, watching and waiting for enough liquid wax to form.

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