Mine, mine, mine.The word’s a heartbeat, a pulse driving my soul, keeping me going until I’m in the booth with them. Max and Grace’s twin expressions of surprise nothing but a blip.
Blade steps back to where I’m standing. His voice sounds like an echo from someplace far away. “Your sub’s sweet, man.”
“She’s more than sweet,” I tell him, without looking his way. “But she’s not my…” I stop, breathe, watch her writhe while Blade teases her with the flogger, Twyla’s gaze never once leaving mine. Not once.
What if?
“Want to take over?”
I stare at the flogger in his hand, meet his eyes, see something there, as basic and animal as the monster twisting in my guts. Understanding.
“No.” I watch her fists grapple with the chains and tighten around them, watch her head strain to the side so she can keep me in her sights, allow my gaze to sink deep into her eyes. “Don’t stop.”
Mine.
My feet take me to her side, just out of Blade’s reach.
After a moment’s hesitation—and another look from me—he steps back and to her left, hooks the flogger between two fingers and takes up where he left off. It’s an easy, rhythmic slap of wide leather that falls to the stretchy material covering her ass. The sound’s not as satisfying as it would be without the cloth. I make the mistake of picturing the light jiggle of her golden-skinned ass without a barrier and work hard to tamp down the possessiveness lashing at my insides.
My wife, god bless her, doesn’t shift her focus for one millisecond. It’s intense, constant. The heat between us is nuclear. Too dangerous this close.
I don’t give a shit.
I’ll take whatever she gives me. Everything.
Her expression’s edging from pain to pleasure, lingering in the liminal place between them as I move closer. “That feel good, baby? The way he’s hurting you?”
Her nod’s loose. That lush, wide mouth drops open, releasing a wheezing gasp.
“Yeah?” I lean close, breathe her in, and feel that inner monster pounding its chest.Mine, mine, mine.
Her yes is a hiss through slack lips.
I want to touch them.
Mine, mine, mine.
Swallowing hard, I shift away, my monster snarling in triumph when Twyla strains to follow.
“Don’t go,” she whispers. “Stay.”
The writhing in my chest stops short, like something gone dormant.
“Not goin’ anywhere.” I reach up, catch a lock of that long, dark hair, and give it a tiny tug. Her eyes roll back and close. I make my way around to her front, which is fucking breathtaking.
It takes everything I’ve got not to uncuff her right now, take her in my arms, soothe the pain that asshole’s causing. Or maybe cause her more. Fuck, I don’t know. I just want to be in charge.
The flogger connects and she jumps, her eyes meet mine—wide and surprised and full of dark, deep pleasure—and that inner voice turns greedy, selfish.
“You like it?”
Her expression’s a question.
“The pain. The way it hurts.”
“I…” Her groan is low and throaty and just about the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.
“You look so good like this. You know that, baby? My cock’s so goddamn hard watching you. You like it? You like the pain?”
