Page 64 of Blood and Lies (A Twisted Duet 1)

“Fuck me,” he moaned. “If it were up to me, I’d leave you like this all goddamn night. If you can handle more, I’ll give you more. But you don’t have a safe word, Tatum, and I don’t plan on giving you one.”

“I can handle it.” There was no doubt in my mind. “Push me to my limits, show me what you can do to me…please.”

“Jesus Christ, you crazy, perfect, fucking woman.”

Another lash…and another…and another. He was concentrating on my ass and thighs, never once touching my back with his whip. It was like he knew my back had recently become a hard limit for me. But this, with him, I could handle. The fact that I could keep my body still and endure the pain was feeding my will to go farther, to get pushed harder. I’d never felt more empowered, even though I was the one bound and vulnerable.

Another lash of the whip, this time landing across my outer lips, the sting burning and aching straight to my core, yet I cried out with sheer pleasure.

“Your skin is the most beautiful canvas of pinks and reds, Tatum.” He struck me again, then rubbed the whip between my legs, coating the leather with my arousal. “You’re like my own goddamn masterpiece.” The tip pushed against my clit, and I felt the pressure build and build inside me, threatening to erupt and shatter me into pieces.

“Oh no. Not yet, little mouse. The only way you’re coming is with my cock inside you.” The whip was gone, leaving me aching and panting for more. Once again, he had pushed me past the point of no return, and there was no going back now…not until my body got what it wanted.

One more strike echoed around us, and this time I screamed as the pain seared and singed my skin. I was out of breath, my body aching in places I never even knew I had. His fingers invaded my body again, pumping in and out, forcing me hard and fast to the edge of release.

“Listen to me, Tatum. I’m going to fuck you now, but you need to keep very still. Do you understand? Do not fucking move.”

“Yes.” I could hardly hear my own voice as exhaustion started to set in.

Strong hands gripped my hips, keeping me in place. My body readied itself to be taken, to be filled to the brim, my mind nothing but thoughts of pleasure and ecstasy.

I felt the tip of his cock nudge against my entrance, and already soft moans were leaking out of my mouth like gentle pleas to be satiated.

Slowly, gently, he eased inside me, careful not to rock me forward too much. More and more he pushed and stretched, my body wrapping around him, welcoming him, until he was buried inside me to the hilt.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Tatum.” He growled behind me. “I can feel how much your body wants me inside you.”

Carefully, he eased out, then back in, the slow, leisurely stroke of his cock making me feel every inch of him, letting me experience every ounce of pleasure. It was so strong, so intense, that tears threatened to erupt because my soul couldn’t handle the power or the passion that flowed through him and into me. It was such a delicate yet strong delight, how perfectly he fit inside me, how impossibly satisfying it was to let him take me, use me…consume me.

One of his hands let go of my hip and moved up my spine. “This…you are too much, Tatum. Your body is challenging my self-control, provoking the selfish beast in me. I need to move faster.” He pulled out. “Tell me you can handle whatever the fuck I give you.” And then with one hard thrust, he was inside me again. “Tell me, Tatum!”

“Oh God, yes. Yes, I can handle it.”

And then the beast was unleashed.

Gripping both my hips painfully, his fingers piercing my skin to try to keep me still, he started to pound into me. Faster and faster he pumped, his cock going deeper and deeper. Our bodies slapped together, sweat mixed with arousal pooling between our bodies. It was a fucking war, the battle of bodies trying to push each other over the edge with ruthless delight.

“You never answered my question, Tatum.” More relentless thrusting, more hard pounding of flesh against flesh. “Did my brother fuck you the way you needed to be fucked?”

“Jesus, Castello.”

“Answer me!” His palm hit my ass, and I jerked forward, an ache shooting up my arms, my shoulders screaming in pain.

“No!”

Then every ounce of pain radiating throughout my body crashed between my legs, threatening to erupt all the built-up pressure in an explosion of carnal decadence.

“He didn’t,” I cried out. “Carlo didn’t fuck me the way I needed it…but you do. You. Fucking. Do.”

Castello cursed and roared behind me, crying out, “Tu mi hai rovinato.” You have ruined me.

My body shuddered as every nerve exploded into fragments of pleasure. We came together, his jerks working in unison with the throbbing inside my core as we splintered into pieces. Our loud moans slammed against his bedroom walls, filling the air with our labored breathing.

He didn’t stop flexing, thrusting in and out of me until the last tremors of our orgasms left our bodies, and even then, there seemed to linger a kind of pleasure inside my veins that didn’t dissipate.

I felt him pull out, my body immediately mourning the loss. The blindfold was pulled off, and he started with the collar around my neck, taking it off before un-clicking my wrists from the bonds that were hanging from the ceiling.

Slowly, gently, he eased my arms down, my shoulders complaining from a stiff ache that made it impossible to lower my arms fast.

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