“If you move again,” I say calmly, “I’ll tell Rory he can hold you down. You want that?”
He steps forward, bobbing his brows.
“Fuck you.”
Still, she quiets. I place a leather strip in her mouth, protecting her teeth.
Then, I cleanly slide the needle through. Her scream is wild, furious, and exquisite. The leather falls for her curses. “Fucking HELL, you doctor dickhead! SHIT—SHITyoumotheroffuckingFUCK!”
She’s so goddamn alive when she’s like this.
I thread the titanium barbell through with precision, secure it, and admire my work.
“One down.”
She pants, chest heaving, eyes wet and blazing. Vincent shifts beside me, engaged with everything I’m doing. But when he steps closer to her, she bares her teeth at him like an animal, and he wisely moves back.
“Distract her,” I direct Seth without glancing up. “Make her forget what’s coming.”
He doesn’t hesitate. Our eager timber wolf.
She gasps as he lowers to his knees between her thighs. Her curses dissolve into a desperate sound when his tongue meets her clit. My girl is dripping already—her body knows what she needs even when her mind’s rebelling.
“Oh, fuck—Seth?—!”
I prep the second nipple. Alcohol swab, clamp, angle.
“I hate you,” she gasps, voice raw from over-stimulation. “Hate all of you.”
“I know,” I reply softly.
“You’re pure evil.”
“Can’t argue.”
I nod to Vincent, who secures the leather strap again.
And then I drive the second needle through.
Her scream is even louder this time. Guttural. Animal. Now, the leather drops. “Jude! You smug prick! I hope a goddamn clown gives you a prostate exam!”
I chuff a laugh, then carefully thread the barbell in and adjust it.
She’s panting, sweat-drenched, and shaking, but her hips are rolling into Seth’s mouth now, seeking more. Her body is alight with pain and lust and something else. Acceptance. Ownership.
Seth doesn’t stop. He licks like he’s starving. And pumps his fingers in and out of her. She moans, a raw, beautiful sound that stabs straight through my chest. Tears slip down her temples, and I brush them away as her orgasm mounts.
Her whole body tenses, then convulses around Seth’s fingers as she shrieks, her back arching in the chair like a crucifixion of ecstasy.
And in her post-orgasmic haze, with her clit perfectly swollen and plump for my intentions, I reach for a fresh set of gloves. “One last addition,” I murmur, watching the horror dawn across her face. “A vertical hood piercing. Both for aesthetics…and to make you even more responsive.”
Her breath stutters. “Jude,” she whispers, a tremble threading through her. “No. You’re not putting anything through there?—”
I silence her with a gentle touch to her thigh. “Babydoll, your anatomy is ideal. Clean lines, minimal tissue, excellent vascularity. You’ll thank me every time someone so much as breathes on your clit.”
“No—fuck you, you egotistical prick?—”
But the moment the antiseptic hits her folds, she gasps, back arching against the chair. I spread her gently, my fingers steady, clinical, reverent. Her clit is already swollen from Seth’s teasing, slick and flushed with blood.
