“You…don’t?”
He doesn’t likemypain? Or…knee pain?
He folds his shirt and lifts my forearms, placing the padding under me. He nods, satisfied with how he’s prepared me. He disappears again, his silence heightening my anticipation.
“I likethispain,” he says.
A hot drip splats on my lower back and I gasp from the intensity of it.
“Yes,” Rhazan groans. “I like that very much.”
“Me too,” I pant.
Another drip hits my back and rolls up the valley of my spine, making a river of heat spread over me. Rhazan’s hand traces around the drops until his nail hooks in the band of my panties.
“If these weren’t new, and expensive, I would rip them off you,” he says.
The slow drag of the material over my cheeks is punctuated by a hot splash of wax. I hum and close my eyes, getting lost in the sensations.
“How do you know they’re new?”
There’s a gentle tug, and then he holds something in front of me. I open my eyes and—
Oh, god…the price tag. How did I miss it?
“You’re cute,” he says, throwing the tag to the floor.
I watch it flutter and feel a little knot of embarrassment grow in my stomach. There must be something wrong with me because that knot is warm and tightens the muscles in my lower belly. Blood heats my face and I bite my lip.
“I like this flavor, too,” he says, then leans down, his hand braced beside my arm. “And so do you.”
Fuck. Am I really turned on by being humiliated?
Another slap of wax ceases that line of thought quickly. The drips hit my ass and roll down the backs of my thighs. Rhazan’s fingers follow the lines, then course up the inside of my leg. I moan and strain back against him, trying to lower my center onto his hand. His fingers dodge my attempt and slide up my ass once more.
Drip by drip, caress by sensual caress, frustration builds in my body. I’m wound so tight I could come undone at the slightest breeze, but he keeps his touch soft, and far from my pussy. I tug on my binds. If I could just get one hand free, I could solve this problem myself.
A rumbling laugh spills out of him as another splatter of hot wax hits me. My back and cheeks must be close to covered by now.
“Please,” I murmur.
“Please what, Firecracker?”
I wiggle and the wax on my lower back crackles, like my shell is breaking.
“Please, touch me.”
“I am touching you,” he says, dragging the tip of his nail down my ass in a featherlight touch that makes me shiver and clench.
His finger follows the line of my cheek to my opening, but he drifts down to my leg instead of giving me what I’ve asked for.
“I need more. Please, RhazDaddy, more.”
He grips my thigh hard, and the prick of his nails makes me hiss.
“I don’t think you’re sorry enough yet,” he murmurs.
His hand slides up my back, bunching my dress at my breasts. He slows, tentative and asking. I look up at him and nod. Fire burns in his eyes and he holds my gaze as his fingers push the material over my breasts. I have to dip my head so he can shove it over onto my arms, and then I’m bared to him.
