Page 20 of Only You, No One Else

Mark’s sigh as the pain dissipated brought him back to the present, away from the temptation of his blood.

His caress trailed a path over Mark’s back to his hair, wet with the consequence of his exertion, but still as soft. “You OK?”

Mark’s answer was a moan.

Caster walked around the cross, his desire to see Mark’s eyes a burden on his carefully laid plans. Mark’s tired smile greeted him, the haze of pleasure in his eyes intensifying their brown color.

He touched his lips, needing to kiss him, but knowing that if he gave in, the play session would come to an end faster than he intended. “Still comfortable?”

Mark’s nod was small, like his head was a burden, but his smile, his calming breaths, and a silent mind reinforced his reply.

“Good.”

His eyes drifted shut, his sigh tickling Caster’s fingers, and he couldn’t resist. Mark opened to him as soon as their lips touched, his next sigh an invitation Caster welcomed. Although he was sure it would never be possible, he tried to communicate his love in the single kiss.

The position hindered that goal, and the pleas tumbling past Mark’s lips reminded him of his submissive’s need. He pulled away, took a fortifying breath. “What do you say when you need me to slow down?”

A slight frown interfered with Mark’s contented, calm expression.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry…” Mark closed his eyes and moaned. “Star.”

“Look at me, my love.”

Brown depths filled with tears met his.

“Let’s see how much you can take, hmm?” He brushed the strands of wet hair away from his forehead. “Don’t hesitate to tell me if you need a moment.”

He wanted nothing more than to kiss him, pull him away from the cross, and make love to him, but Mark’s needs would always come first.

CHAPTER 13

Even in his conviction that he didn’t have too many limits, Mark had been so close to begging Caster to stop, he couldn’t hold back the tears streaming down his face. But again, his choice in the perfect dominant was reaffirmed when Caster saw his limit before he could. And now, he’d granted him the option to ask for a reprieve. Mark wanted to be certain he wouldn’t need it; his desire to use his pain and pleasure as a conduit to reach the heights of subspace too great. But given the pain he’d just endured and the pleasure it brought, he was grateful for the option.

Caster stepped away from him, and his breath caught, the words begging him to stay close weighing on his tongue. The pain was now a memory, a consequence of his wolf’s total obedience to Caster’s will. The scent of his own blood dominating all other scents in the room should scare him, but it only made him want more.

He sighed, regaining a strength he’d lost minutes earlier.

Caster’s bare palm was on his back, his ass clenching around the toy still inside him in response. His breath in Mark’s ear tore a shameless plea from his lips. “Ready?”

Mark nodded, his muscles regaining their lost vigor to offer his body much-needed support.

“Remember to breathe, baby.”

Then he was gone, and Mark's body tensed in anticipation. His cock begged for release, but its need, as insistent and raw as it was, remained secondary to Mark’s true desire.

The warning he’d hoped for in the form of the whip splitting the air before making impact with his skin didn’t come, yet a pain too intense tore at his skin. It marked a similar path as the whip, a straight line that began in the middle of his back and ended above his ass.

Caster didn’t give him time to adjust or even try to decipher the torture device he’d chosen. This time, there was no momentary pause between the impacts, and Caster’s instruction to hold on to his breath made sense. His cock deflated with the first few, but by the time he’d lost count, the sharp, stinging pain coming only seconds apart, he crossed the line.

Pain bloomed into a pleasure so intense, his vision dissipated into an impossible brightness. His cries reached a part of him that remained conscious, as did Caster’s harsh breaths every time the torture device landed, but Mark reached into the whiteness to grab hold of the pleasure. His cock jumped, and his control slipped further.

“Star!” He may have screamed the word, and Caster, in his infinite patience, stopped mid-breath.

Mark’s cock throbbed its accusation, and his hands flexed in his restraints, itching to grant it momentary relief. But his pleasure, the immeasurable pleasure he could see, could touch, didn’t belong to him. It bowed to Caster’s will like everything else.

Caster’s harsh breaths were a distraction in his ear, the press of his body against his burning back further intensifying the struggle. “Don’t you dare!” The warning was a harsh whisper, delivered by a jaw clenched shut.