Page 10 of Vicious Hearts

When I hear footsteps moving away from me, I frown, puzzled. I turn slightly to glance over my shoulder at what he’s doing. And when I see, my core throbs with deviant desire.

Cillian walks to a table against the far wall covered with…tools. Not tools for building, like hammers or saws.

Tools fordestroying.

Leather wrist and ankle restraints. Ball gags. A riding crop. A—fuck me—awhip.

Strap-ons, butt plugs of various sizes, butterfly nipple clamps, paddles, floggers, blindfolds, hoods, and a dozen other leather and gleaming gold implements of pleasure and pain.

Tools that I’m ashamed to admit I’mfartoo well-versed in.

Thanks, internet.

I stare, my heart racing with—well, with what I want to say is fear, but is actually more like forbidden excitement—as Cillian traces a finger thoughtfully over each object on the table. He lingers on a paddle—the size of a ping-pong paddle, but covered in raised metal studs—and my heart skips. But then he keeps moving down the line.

Finally, his hand stops again, this time on the riding crop. When I watch his lips curl, I shiver as he picks it up and turns back to me, his eyes glinting wickedly.

“Eyes forward.”

I tremble, my entire body thrumming with anticipation and nerves as I hear him walk back to me.

“Remember the word, little rabbit.”

Before I can even try to remember what it is, fire explodes across my skin. I yelp, gulping and—shamefully—whimpering, as I feel the sting of the crop against my bare ass.

He does it again—not hard, but hard enough to make me gasp as the slim leather bit at the end stings my tender skin. The fire ignites a third time, and my whole face goes red when I realize the sound that tumbles from my lips this time is a very obvious and very needymoan.

Behind me, Cillian chuckles darkly as I shiver in the aftershocks of the assault on my flesh.

“Such a greedy little girl,” he growls, tracing the tip of the crop over my skin.

I whimper deep in my chest, my whole world slowly turning to fire and need. Everything else begins to fade away, until all I know is the feel of the leather crop teasing slowly over my hip, and then up my ribs as he circles me, like a shark smelling blood in the water.

A quickthwackagainst my ribs has me mewling. The tip of the crop tracing up the underside of my breast and flicking over my aching nipple brings a shiver and a gasp of anticipation to my lips.

Thwack.

I yelp, moaning, my brain short-fucking-circuiting as he flicks the end of the crop against my other nipple. It hurts—I mean, itreallyfucking hurts. But the rush that immediately follows—the pure ecstasy that floods into the space pain made—is euphoric.

And it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before with just myself.

He knows it, too. Because suddenly, he’s doing it again. And again. Andagain, punishing my nipples with the end of the crop until my legs are shaking. Until my pulse roars in my ears.

Until I’m so wet, I swear to God, it’s going to drip right down my legs.

He circles me again and again, teasing and then hurting, teasing and then hurting, leaving stings and explosions of raw pleasure across my breasts, my inner thighs, and my ass. Until finally, I’m so delirious with forbidden pleasure that the room is spinning.

That’s when he’s suddenly on me.

I gasp as his hands come at me from behind—one wrapping around my throat, the other dragging over my hip as he pulls me back against him. My pulse roars and my eyes go wide as I feel the thick, heavy bulge in his pants pressing hard against the small of my back.

His lower hand keeps moving, and my mouth falls open in desire when it suddenly plunges between my thighs. Two of the thick fingers on his veined, muscular hand delve between my folds, and I can’t help but cry out desperately when he begins to rub my clit.

“Sucha messy little girl for me,” Cillian rasps darkly into my ear. I whimper, choking as his hand tightens on my throat, sending my body into orbit. His fingers push lower, and my eyes bulge as he suddenly sinks not one, but both of them deep into me in one rapid, brutal thrust.

Oh my God he’s going to make me come.

If he keeps this up, he really will. Maybe it’s the two glasses of champagne followed by a whiskey. Maybe it’s my jangling nerves.

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