“It won't hurt for long, Nightingale,” he whispers in a throaty voice, yanking on the chains that connect the clamps and making my breath hiss again.
“What's the other clamp for?” I ask, my voice fifty shades of husky as my fingers flex at my sides. I know damn well what the third clamp is for, I just want him to say it.
Slowly, Jude sinks to his knees with such a sexy smile that I could almost come right then and there.
“That's the part that'll get me in trouble,” he says, voice soft, his hot breath brushing against my wet folds. I shiver, the clamps on my nipples feeling tighter suddenly.
He leans in, and my head falls back with a groan as his mouth clamps down on my clit, sucking hard. I cry out as a fierce orgasm rips through me. No build-up. No warning. Just sheer, painful bliss. My nailless fingers claw at the stone countertop behind me as the pleasure becomes almost too much, Jude's tongue caressing me until I'm fucking twitching and shuddering, begging him to stop.
Another shriek leaves my lips when he places the clamp on my pulsing clit.
“Fuck!” I shout, so sensitive that it's painful.
“So fucking delicious, Nightingale,” he murmurs, kissing my sweaty thigh before standing up, his lips glistening with my release. “Fucking exquisite.”
He leans down, capturing my lips with his own, and I groan loudly when I taste my cum on his tongue. He kisses me like he ate me, all hard and demanding like he can't get enough. I kiss him back just as fiercely, my hands tangling in his soft hair and pulling him closer. A moan falls from my lips into his mouth when my nipples brush his chest, the clamps providing an incredible pressure.
Capturing his lower lip in my teeth, I bite down hard until copper fills my mouth and Jude gives a low, sexy growl, thrusting his hips and poking me with his member that’s still trapped in his pants. Just as I reach out to grab it, desperate to feel his silky length in my hand, there's a fucking explosion and the door to the bedroom flies into the room. I jump hard, my heart thudding in my chest.
“Busted,” Jude murmurs, placing his forehead against mine.
I laugh, the sound dying in my throat as I spot Aeron walking into the room with measured steps, his suit pristine.
“Evening, Devil Man,” I sass him, and he just raises a single brow.
“You didn't need to blow the door off, asshole,” Jude comments, turning around and blocking me from view. “Especially as I dressed our bird up so prettily for you.”
Like a fucking showman at a circus, he steps aside, taking my hand and pulling me forward to show me off to Aeron. I spot Knox and Tarl in the bedroom too, both taking deep inhales as they spot me.
“Fucking hell,” Aeron rasps, and my gaze swings back to him, a fissure of pleasure running through me at his hooded eyes. He rubs a hand over his face, and I know that I've broken him a little in that moment. My lips tug upwards in a sultry smirk.
As his hand moves from his face, his expression resumes its usual coldness and I know that the heir to the Tailors is back. Stepping forward, he takes my hand from Jude's.
“Time to go back downstairs and start singing, Dove.”
“DEVILISH” BY CHASE ATLANTIC
AERON
Fucking Jude.
I'm rock-fucking-solid in my slacks as I pull our little Dove behind me, back towards the basement. The image of the gold chains dangling from her breasts and down to her sweet pussy is burned into my retinas, and I don't dare look at her. If I do, I'll be dragging her to my room and fucking her until we both pass out.
As much as I crave that release, we have a job to do, and a pretty pussy can't get in the way. We've delayed long enough.
I hear a feminine gasp as we descend the stairs to the basement; I turned the air con all the way up, and I bet her nipples are as solid as my dick. Plus the clamps teasing her tight buds will be making her feel every degree that the room lacks.
Shit, I should not be thinking about her nipples.
She stalls as we enter the room with her coffin in it, which has been pushed to the side to make room for a toy I bought just for her.
Turning around, I give her a smirk as she takes in the piece of furniture currently dominating the room.
“Do you know what this is called?” I ask, keeping hold of her hand and drinking in her reaction. Her eyes are wide and her lipsparted. Her tongue darts out to lick the lower one, and I have to clench my jaw almost to the breaking point to stop the groan wanting to escape from me.
“A St Andrew's Cross,” she whispers, her chest rising and falling with quick panting breaths. Fuck me. She's just as turned on as I am about strapping her to it. I can practically smell her arousal and can see it seeping down her thighs that keep clenching.
“Good girl,” I praise, bringing up my free hand to stroke her cheek and turning her hooded gaze to mine. “Here's how this is going to go. We’ll be tying you to the cross, and if you're a good girl and tell us what we need to know, then you can come.”
