Page 7 of Deviant

“Try to get away from me and see what happens,” I warned.

She caught the seriousness of my tone, and it was enough to halt her movement. Whirling back to face me, she treaded water, her brilliant jade eyes spitting wrath in my direction.

Anger was beautiful on her. My woman was hot and sexy and gorgeous, but above all else, beautiful clear to her soul. A myriad of emotions wrapped around my heart, constricting the pump of blood, making me dizzy from the effect she had on me.

Some people tried to define love, tried packaging it into hearts and flowers in February and diamonds and white gowns on a day to remember. Love had no definition. It was the insanity that glued two hearts together, the possessiveness that gripped the soul, the inevitability that arrowed straight for the jugular.

Love had me fucking whipped.

“Swim with me,” I said, nodding toward the tiny island that called to me from several yards away. Maybe that piece of land reminded me of home, of security and comfort. Whatever the reason, I was drawn to it and had been since the day we found this private spot.

Alex hesitated, her gaze swinging between the island where I’d punished and fucked her twice already, and the illusion of safety on the shoreline of our camp. But safety didn’t exist outside my will, my arms, my way. She knew that, and like the smart girl she was, she kicked to my side and moved through the water with me, her naked body one with the lake she still feared on a base level.

The island wasn’t far, which was a good thing, considering her status as a beginning swimmer. We reached the patch of rocky land, and Alex stood, her toes sinking into the dirt of the shore, water dripping from her hair, sluicing between her tits. Her nipples hardened, and I envisioned taking a switch to them.

My dick went from shriveled from the chilly water to hard and throbbing at the thought of punishing her tits.

Find some fucking patience.

I had all day to make her bend, and bend, she would. I shed my shorts before herding her toward my favorite boulder, with its smooth, curved surface that welcomed her body perfectly. Twirling her around, I shoved her to her knees, and she draped the rock, her feminine form a vision of pure art as she hugged the stone.

“Let me come.” Her voice quivered, her legs trembled, and she parted her thighs by a few inches. I was tempted to sink my fingers into her pussy to find out how wet she was. My cock twitched at the idea.

It was a bad idea if I wanted to retain a thread of control.

“Letting you come will only defeat the purpose.” Testing several skinny branches from a nearby tree, I broke one off and planted my feet on the ground behind her.

Fuck, she was a goddess. She knew exactly what she was in for, but she arched her spine anyway, damp curls a sexy tangle down her back as she put her ass on display. The way she submitted broke me apart a little more each time.

I fuckingneededto make her come, craved the breathlessness of her cries, the alluring rigidity of her muscles as pure bliss flooded the delta of her thighs.

“Please, Rafe.”

Last night had left her desperate. Not bringing her to orgasm was makingmefucking desperate. But one glance at the red scratches marring her arm was enough to keep me from giving in. Those ugly streaks on her skin made me grind my teeth.

“You’re being punished, babe. Not pleasured.”

She took a deep breath, held it for several seconds, then let it out with a whimper. “I don’t know if I can hold back if you fuck me.”

“That’s why I’m gonna fuck your ass. You’d better get good and wet.”

She fisted her hands against the rock but didn’t protest even though I knew she wanted to. I closed my eyes, counted to ten for a sense of calmness that never truly came, and let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Then I brought the switch down on her backside.

3. A Switch of Truth - Alex

I remembered the time Zach used a switch on me, recalled the terror that had risen in my throat because he’d been out of his fucking mind. The echoing pain of that memory ran deep, infiltrating to my marrow.

And yet each strike from Rafe was a caress, a kiss of fire that wasn’t painful enough to blot out the ache between my legs. He knew how to use that stick to his advantage. With the flick of a wrist, he made me squirm, my thighs pressing together as his chosen implement danced across my skin.

“Open,” he commanded, prompting me to part my thighs once more.

He struck again, and my body locked up, all effort spent on staying in position. The stick made a slight whistling sound as it swiped the air.

“Ahhh!” I jerked, and by some miracle didn’t break the pose.

The switch made an agonizing journey down my butt cheeks, leaving line after line of sweet torment. The harsher the sting, the quicker I grew wet between the thighs, my pussy throbbing.

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