Page 42 of Reckless Roses
He smirks. “I’ll remember that for later then.”
He pinches me lightly, and I gasp at the pain, though the way his eyes blaze through me, mixed with his familiar rain-and-pine scent and the feel of him touching me, sends an entirely different sensation across my skin.
Pain mixed with something primal, something I think I might crave.
Maybe it’s just him.
“Keep your eyes on me, baby.”Fuck. I like the way that sounds rolling off his lips. August nods toward me. “Play with your other tit. Look at me and touch yourself like that.” There is so much heat in his gaze, I melt beneath it, brushing my thumb across my breast, my chest expanding with each rapid breath. “Does that feel good?”
I nod.
“Good.” I see his hands moving, but I refuse to look at them, all my focus remains on his burning eyes and his full, wet lips—desperate to feel them on me again. “Focus on that. Focus on my voice and how good it feels to play with yourself.”
His eyes drop, but before I’m able to register it, a sharp, stinging pain radiates across my flesh, followed by an excruciating burn that has me gasping.
“Sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I’ve got you.” His voice transforms that pain into electric zaps of pleasure that gather low in my stomach, and suddenly, my clit is fucking throbbing.
August turns behind him, grabbing something off the tray before twisting the bar now through my nipple and taking a step back. The pain dulls into a low burn as my adrenaline bottoms out. “I’m going to move fast with this next one because you’re anticipating it now.”
I’m not sure what noise I intended to make, but it floats from my throat like a moan.
August pauses, smirking at me. “Almost sounds like you liked the pain.”
“I think I liked you being the one to cause it,” I say breathlessly.
“Fuck me,” he whispers, grabbing his supplies as he walks around the chair. He changes his gloves, sanitizes my other breast, and pulls a fresh needle from a new pouch, along with a bar identical to the previous one.
“You’re doing a good job at remaining professional, Augustus,” I whimper as the cotton pad slides along my skin and the cool air pricks against my breast.
“Trust me, my thoughts are not professional.”
“I’d like to hear those thoughts.”
“I’ll be happy to tell you about them as soon as I…” That familiar pain is blazing through my chest, my flesh on fire, tremors of it wracking my body and coiling in the center of my legs. “Finish this.” He twists the jewelry against my nipple again before taking a step back and discarding his gloves.
“Fuck. It hurt worse that time.”
August doesn’t respond, placing his tools down on the metal tray and sliding it away from us. When he turns to me, his face is hard, his eyes flaming. Grabbing my hand, he interlaces our fingers, bringing them to his abdomen. He slides our hands down his stomach and presses them against the impressive bulge in his jeans.
My throat goes a little dry, the burn in my breasts temporarily forgotten as I let myself feel his hardness, his size.
“This is myveryunprofessional reaction to your body, Elena.”
I lift my head, meeting his gaze as his eyes pierce right through me, laced with lust. August has never been this bold with me before, and I find every word spilling from his mouth right now to be enticing and addictive.
“I like you unprofessional,” I whisper. “I like you rough and feral.” Squeezing his cock, I add, “I like you hard.”
He steps around the chair, positioning himself at the center of it as he leans over me, placing his hands on the seat between my legs. He draws circles on my lower thighs with his pinkies, and the intimate touch has every atom in my body on alert.
“Are you in pain?” he asks, eyes darting to my chest behind his black glasses.
“A little.” Horny more than anything else, honestly. Not sure what that says about me.
He drops his head to my jaw, pressing his lips against it. I want to grab him and force him to my lips, but I’m afraid moving my arms might hurt, and it’s clear he’s on some sort of mission, one I’m desperate to watch unfold.
He drags his mouth down my throat and across my chest, careful not to touch my breasts, instead kissing and suckling the skin between them, moving over my stomach as he drops to his knees on the floor in front of me.
“I can help with that,” he whispers, fingers lightly skating over my jeans, like he’s waiting for permission.
