“It’s impulsive,” he told me, walking back to the bed, only to pick up the whip. “You saying stuff like that.” His eyes found mine. “I’m going to break you of that habit.” He slammed the whip against my inner thigh, causing me to cry out, my pussy dripping. “When we’re done here, my hope is that you’ll speak in clear concise sentences. Everything you say will have a meaning, a purpose. It will ring with truth. I don’t like playing games. I don’t like riddles. I don’t like having to figure out what people are thinking. Those people always end up dead. So, you don’t get to be that person.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Because you don’t want me dead?” I dared.
He whipped my inner thigh again, my body jerking. “Because I said so.” He watched me quiver, a snarl erupting from his lips.
He looked me over carefully, his eyes filled with hunger, need. After a second, another snarl erupted from him. He was more animal than he was human at this point. Driven by one primal need: to fuck.
He slid the whip between his teeth, ripped off his shirt and tossed it to the floor.
“Fuck me,” I mumbled, taking in his chest. It was covered in tattoos. Black as night, tattoos everywhere. Coating his…his hardened,muscularbody. Really fucking…so many goddamn muscles.
One tattoo in particular caught my attention, but I couldn’t see all of it, just the tips of it. The tips of black wings cresting over each bicep, as if he had a black bird spreading its wings across his back. I wondered if it matched that silver ring he never took off. The one with the raven on it that he wore on his right hand. I wondered if it was important, an emblem of his precious family.
He also had scars. Lots of scars. Slashes and bullet holes, it looked like. They were everywhere.
My mouth started to water as my eyes lifted back to his, the whip in his hand again, a sheen of sweat coating his skin. “Why do you have so many scars?” I asked, my breathing labored.
“It’s part of the job.” He whipped my nipple again, my stomach, my ribs.
I was heaving, moaning, my hips moving with each hit. I just wanted something,anythingbetween them. This was getting fucking painful.
Suddenly, the whip was between my legs.
I moaned, grinding my hips against it as he slowly pulledit back and pushed it forward right against my pulsing cunt. “Fuck,” I moaned, trembling in need.
Everett stepped up to me, holding the pressure of the whip steady as he searched my face, watching me. It’s like he got off on the sounds, the way I looked, the way I reacted to him.
He liked it.
He liked to watch.
I rocked my hips forward, pulling on the restraints, wanting nothing more than to touch him, to drag my nails down his chest, make him hiss with need. “What now?” I panted, my hands and feet thoroughly numb.
He pulled something out of his pocket, his eyes dropping to my chest. “Now is the next step.”
Only a second passed before a sharp pain erupted across my chest. I groaned, my head falling back against the wall, my hips rocking forward, trying to get more pressure just as another sharp pain erupted across my chest. He had put clamps on my nipples. They were tight, throbbing, and he decided to add to my agony by putting goddamn clamps on them.
He flicked one of them, my body jerking. “He touched you everywhere, so I will too,” he hummed and released the whip.
I whined, rocking my hips forward, missing the pressure. Missing the feeling of the building orgasm. All my brain felt was pleasure. I needed more. I had to havemore.
He stepped to my left side, running his hand along the length of my arm without touching it. Just hovering, his skin so hot, it warmed the air around him, burning my skin.
I groaned, thudding my head back against the wall, looking over at him, watching him hover like he was afraid he’d break me. “My skin isn’t so delicate,” I told him. “I’m used to the color purple.”
He glanced over at me, his eyes like lunar eclipses now. “Is that why you put on a mask of makeup the first time I gave youan ice bath?”
I caught my bottom lip between my teeth, my eyes locked on his lips. “I’d wearyourbruises like I wear dresses,” I whispered, finding his eyes again. That meant something, I understood that. It was deeper than everything else. It was important, but I prayed it wouldn’t go to his head. I prayed it was just enough to encourage him to keep going.
He watched me for a long time before turning back to my arm, his hand still hovering above the soft skin of my inner wrist. He leaned in and my breath caught, my body stilling, until his lips touched my skin.
I moaned. I couldn’t help it. It was like liquid fire, his lips against my skin, and then I felt his teeth. “Oh,fuck,”I whimpered.
And then he sucked. Hard. Everything ached. It ached so badly I wondered if I would ever be able to feel my pussy again. I just needed relief.
He kissed and sucked and licked, all the way up my arm, using his hands to press my arm into his mouth tightly. I could feel the bruises forming everywhere he touched, digging his nails into my skin. Sucking, licking, kissing.
He did the same with my right arm, sweat causing my hair to stick to my skin, the room filled with our panting, our slamming hearts. I needed more. “More,” I begged, my legs sore from straining against the bar. “I want more, you absolute prick,” I pleaded.
