“What’s that?” I ask, curious but also slightly anxious.
The little thrill of fear fizzes through me, fueling my mounting lust. I’m already wet and ready for him, and my inner muscles contract in anticipation of his cock.
“It’s a violet wand,” he replies, as though that explains everything.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“You’ll see, my curious pet.”
He tucks the metal plate beneath his waistband, so that it’s secured against his hip.
I watch his strange actions, puzzled.
He drops a quick kiss on my forehead. “Trust me.”
“I do.”
His smug smile is a touch triumphant, and I grin at him in return.
Then he plugs the wand into the power socket beside the bed and sets it down on the nightstand.
His flashing eyes pin me like I’m a butterfly. “Are you ready?”
I lick my lips. “Ready for what?”
His smile turns cruel. “For whatever I want to do to you.”
I lift my chin and open myself to him, allowing him to look straight into my soul. “Yes, Master.”
“Stay very still for me,” he commands, slowly lowering his hand toward my forearm.
My brows knit together in the long seconds it takes for him to bridge the gap between us. My entire body coils tight with anticipation, and every inch of my flesh comes alive for him. My skin seems to crackle and dance, but in the moment his fingers near my arm, real sparks fly.
I shout more in shock than pain when electricity arcs between us in a sizzling, tiny lighting strike. He closes the small space that separates us, and the moment his skin makes contact with mine, the spark disappears.
“What…” I gasp for breath. “I don’t understand.”
“As long as I’m touching you, we’re grounded to one another,” he explains. “But if there’s a small gap…”
He withdraws, and another sharp spark dances between us. It tingles and burns, and this time, he allows it to linger for several seconds. He splays his hand, and each finger becomes electric, stroking my arm with sizzling pleasure that rides the edge of pain.
I wriggle for a moment, overwhelmed by the strange, novel sensation.
His touch trails up my arm, raking hot lines along my sensitized skin.
“I feel it too,” he rumbles.
He pulls back, breaking the connection. I’m not sure if my short cry is one of relief or loss. His low chuckle rolls over me, and I arch into him like a cat seeking more attention.
“Greedy little thing,” he says, voice deep and indulgent. “Tell me you want more. Beg me to torment you.”
I pause. “But you said you feel it too. Does it hurt?”
“We’ll suffer equally today, my queen.”
He keeps me fixed in his burning stare as he slowly lowers his hand toward my breast, giving me time to refuse him.
I don’t move a muscle; I simply keep my back arched for him and wait for the sparks. I’m his wife, his equal. Dane thrives on control, but he’s willing to suffer for me.
