“A little.” She shakes her head, gasps at the next strike, and leans forward so our foreheads are so close to touching, we share heat. “I like you watching.” Her next gasp, bright with shock, trails into rich pleasure, deep enough to resonate in my bones. “It’s better with you.” Her smile’s half wild.
With you.
I go still at the intimacy in those two words, in our stare.
It feels off in my stomach. Uncomfortable.
I push a thin smile to my lips. “Yeah? Well, pain looks good on you.”
She smirks, flinches through the next strike, and stares me dead in the eyes. “Being an asshole looks good on you, Zion.”
I bark out a laugh and she grins, breaks into a whimper. Her head drops forward, severing our connection.
Before I know it, my hand’s in her hair, fisting it, dragging her head up and back.
“Don’t you take your eyes off me.”
Her gaze centers on mine, though her nod’s laborious, her head heavy. I wrap my other hand in her hair and hold her up, make her look at me.
“You’re such a fuckin’ brat, Twyla. You know that?”
Like the good brat she is, she shakes her head. Or tries to. My grip’s too tight to allow much motion. All she can do is watch me while I carry the weight of her head and soak up every startled gasp, every pained jolt.
They’re mine now. Mine.
Over her shoulder, Blade catches my eye. He motions and mouths something. I nod.
He shifts position, swings in that easy, effortless way and catches her right between the legs and there… There’s the sound. A higher whine, close to a sob. I’ve heard it before. Last night. Today. It means she’s close. Close, but not there.
“Pull down her shorts,” I say, watching her closely for a reaction. There’s a full-body shimmy, a brief struggle against her cuffs. Her face tightens up, as if she’ll sayNo. Red. Stop.
Instead, she lets out a long, lowOooooh, fuck, spreads her legs just a fraction wider, tilts her ass up…and smiles.
Fucking beautiful.
It’s all the consent Blade needs. Within seconds, he’s got her shorts down and both legs cuffed again.
“It’ll hurt more. You want that?”
“Yes.” Her gaze is direct, if clouded. She nudges her mask aside with her shoulder. It doesn’t occur to me to slide it back in place. “I want that.”
I nod at Blade, watch the lazy rotation of a couple dozen tails just before they connect with her naked skin, then focus in on her eyes as they roll back. Another strike, low to high, another on the left cheek. He goes on like this for a while, his rhythm steady and smooth, his muscles barely shifting with the effort.
Between my hands, Twyla’s heavy head occasionally jolts, her eyes stay fixed on mine, her mouth opens. The sounds she makes…fuck, this is my favorite new soundtrack. Straight from her lungs to my dick.
“Harder,” I tell Blade. He complies and immediately, she’s deeper into subspace, her body tightening and going lax with every strike. And then, “Her cunt.”
Without breaking his stride, he shifts, lowers his arm and…
“Fuck, baby, there it is.”
Another strike. Her eyes roll back. I shift, cradle her skull, keep her head upright. “Watch me. Watch me, Twyla.”
Her gaze is bleary, her mouth hangs open. Her cheeks are a dark, angry pink.
I want her. So badly it hurts.
I bend, put my mouth to her temple, sensitive lips to wild pulse. Slide down to her cheek, soak in the jolt of pain, the sigh of pleasure.
