She’s raised her head, more alert by the time I’ve removed my shirt, and stares at my bare torso.
I don’t think of myself as vain—nature, genes, and breeding gave me the height and proportions that give me an advantage as a hunter. I train like a warrior, in and outside of a gym. My preferred sport requires it. It doesn’t matter that society finds me attractive, except when I can use their interest against them to draw them in.
Maybe that’s why her perusal pleases me. She’s the one I’ve chosen to claim.
“So many scars,” she says, and that gives me pause. I can’t think of another partner who’s noticed the evidence of the battles I’ve fought and won. Or maybe I don’t really allow anyone else to see me.
But she sees me. She always has. Even with the blindfold on. Her sketches attest to that.
I crave her insight, even as I want to punish her for pointing out evidence of my vulnerability.
I head to the wall of implements and select a few things. Clamps for her nipples, a curved vibrator for her pussy. And a small whip.
She shivers when I ready her for the clamps and attach them and moans when I slide the vibrator home. I secure the vibrator with straps around her thighs so it will stay put and turn it on so it’ll pulse with increasing intensity before switching off for a few seconds. Her abs clench as it turns on, and she hums low in her throat.
I stand back and wait for the vibrator to fall silent. I flick the whip at the marks I gave her in our last scene. She turns her head and tries to tuck it into her arm, but she can’t hide her responses. Her sleek muscles quiver and strain.
I slash at her legs, whipping from knee to hip. Her head bows so her damp hair hangs down.
“Look at me,” I order.
She does, baring her teeth at me. Magnificent.
I snap the whip at her belly. She hisses but keeps her defiant pose. I make the whip bite at her breasts, reddening the tops before striking at the left nipple clamp.
She stiffens, throwing her head back to let out an anguished cry. I whip the right clamp to keep things even and step in close. I lean in to find her gaze and push the vibrator deep, turning it up to full power. She shudders against me, her mouth open as she pants.
I can’t help myself. I claim her lips.
Our first kiss while she’s in the grip of an orgasm. And it’s more than I could’ve imagined. More than I can take.
I undo the cuffs and let her collapse against me. My dick strains in my slacks. But I carry her to the couch and lay her gently down.
“No more,” she pants.
“Very well.” I grab the bottle of water. She reaches for it, and I shake my head, setting it against her lips so she can drink. If I had my way, I’d keep her bound and at my mercy, and every drop of liquid or bite of food she consumed would be by my hand. “It’s my turn. Is it true you’ve never been with the same top twice?”
“That’s true.”
“That’s not always safe.”
She blinks at me. “I kept the scenes simple. Just impact play. No exchange of bodily fluids. No. . . touch.”
“No getting too close. I wonder, why do you avoid touch?”
“I can’t stand it.”
I tuck a tendril of hair behind her ear. “Is that because you don’t like it? Or because you like it too much?”
Her brain is catching up, catching on. “That’s too many questions.”
“I don’t need the answer.” How fascinating she is. Every layer I peel away uncovers so many more. She’s a mystery I plan to fall into.
Her brow is furrowed. She’s half out of subspace, and I shouldn’t take advantage, but she’s exactly where I want her.
If that makes me evil, so be it.
Her lips part, but she hesitates.
