Her nostrils flare, and a challenge clears her vision as her eyes narrow.
“And if I don't talk?”
I smirk, my hand dropping from her cheek, my fingers teasing the delicate chains hanging between her lush breasts.
“Then you don't come and get punished.”
I yank the chain, not hard enough to pull the clamps off but enough to make her squeak. Using the chain and letting go of her hand, I pull her towards the cross. She follows, although the gleam in her emerald eyes tells me that this is the most cooperative she's going to be. Good. I hope she fights every damn second. My cock weeps at the thought, no doubt staining my pants but I just don’t give a fuck right now.
Switching our positions, I force her to walk backwards until her spine hits the cross. She glares at me, but I just smile back, all teeth, as I stroke my hand down her arm, watching as goosebumps pebble her creamy skin. Grasping her wrist, I bring it up to one end of the cross.
“Knox,” I call out and feel him come up beside me. He opens the leather cuff, strapping it around her slender wrist. I repeatthe move, holding her stare as we pull her upwards so that she's on her tiptoes.
I kick her legs further apart so he can strap her ankles next and my hand skims her waist, no longer able to fight the pull she has on me. So leaning in more, I run my nose up her beautiful neck, inhaling her summery cherry blossom scent and committing it to memory.
“I would tie you up with ropes instead of the cuffs, but we're short on time so perhaps next time,” I whisper in her ear, my fingers digging into her soft flesh ever so slightly.
I take a step back before I lose control completely, and then regret it as I run my eyes over her at our mercy, strapped up and waiting for our attention.
“Fuck me,” Knox breathes out and adjusts himself.
“She's fucking perfect,” my brother states hungrily from my other side.
“A goddess,” Tarl murmurs next to him, and that makes me snap my head away from the sight before me. I stare at him but he doesn't take his eyes off the Dove, eating her up with his gaze.
If he's taken with her, we have no hope.
“Tarl, blindfold her,” I command, and he turns those mismatched eyes onto me, one brow raised. I say nothing else, asserting my leadership over him. After a few moments, he just gives a slight nod, steps towards her, and pulls a length of red silk from his pants pocket.
I smirk, knowing that he'd have one on him. Our proclivities all run to having our lovers tied up and at a disadvantage.
“No highs for me today, Mr. Sandman?” she asks him in her sexy, husky voice. A bark of deep laughter sounds from his throat, and it's enough to make both brows hit my hairline.
“Only the kind between your creamy thighs, pretty bird,” he purrs back, sliding the silk over her eyes and cutting off her gaze. “If you're a good girl that is.”
A small whimper leaves her throat as he ties the knot behind her head. Perfect. Jude steps forward, but I place a hand across his chest, halting him.
“You've had your turn.” I scowl at him, and he pouts in return, but like a shit, he shrugs and grins. “And Tarl is our resident interrogator, so he gets to start.”
“Don't trust your control, brother?” Jude teases, and my jaw clenches once again.
“Fuck off,” I snap. “Tarl, make sure she doesn't come.”
“Fuck you, Devil Man,” Lark snarls, her voice a little raspy as Tarl runs his palms down her sides and around her breasts but ignores her nipples completely. She thrusts her chest forward as much as the restraints allow, begging for his attention.
“Later, Dove,” I coo, watching unblinkingly as his lips press delicate kisses up her neck. “For now, tell us where Dead Soldiers HQ is.”
It is the one thing that has irritated my father for years, not knowing where their base of operations is. How a gang as big as theirs has kept it a secret is actually quite impressive. Annoying but impressive.
“Suck my clit, asshole,” she replies, moaning as Tarl sucks a spot on her neck. Her thighs try to clench, but the cross stops them, so she'll get no friction unless we give it to her. A heavy exhale sighs out of my nose at the slickness that coats her inner thighs.
“I will, if you're a good little bird,” I counter, enjoying this game far too much. “I'll ask again, although I don't enjoy repeating myself, Dove. Where does that cunt of a father of yours lay his ugly head?”
“At least we agree on that,” she gasps as Tarl moves to the side of her breast and begins sucking. He likes to leave his mark, as we all do in different ways.
“Agree on what, Dove?” I question, curious as to what she meant.
“That my sperm donor is a cunt,” she tells me through gritted teeth when Tarl gets to work on her other breast, still avoiding her nipples.
