Her bra matched, a simple push-up to display her small br**sts to their best advantage. Even being the breast man she knew him to be, Micah didn’t seem disappointed in her assets.
Chill bumps spread across her chest and belly when she tossed the shirt aside.
“Arms up,” he commanded.
She raised her arms over her head, each feeling like it had a hundred-pound weight attached.
He pulled her wrists and looped the leather ties around them then pulled tight to secure the loops to the beam. She had to go up on the balls of her feet as her body stretched. Her back bowed under the strain, pushing her br**sts until they threatened to spill out of her bra.
Micah stepped around, his hand sliding over her belly and up to cup her breast through the material of her bra. He pushed, plumping the swell until her nipple peeked over the lace.
Electricity sizzled through her body when he brushed his thumb over the taut peak. Once, twice and then again, until it puckered and strained outward as if begging for more.
He bent his dark head to her breast and nipped sharply at the bud, seizing it between his teeth. He bit down hard and simultaneous streaks of pleasure and pain pushed her forward, arching desperately into him.
He went to his knees in front of her, his big hands gliding down her sides. His lips skimmed over her taut belly and he ended in a kiss just above the lace band of her panties.
There was no way she’d ever be able to explain to another person how she felt bending to his control. She was helpless before him, her body his to do with what he wanted. He liked inflicting pain, liked exerting his will, but she loved receiving it just as much. They were two halves to a whole, their passions the same. They were aroused by the same kinks, the same dark thrills.
She craved more. He was a drug, and he held her in his thrall.
Her underwear slipped down her legs, and he gently lifted each foot until she was free of the material. Then he ran his hands back up her legs as if he were worshipping her with every caress. No, he wasn’t punishing her. Micah did nothing in anger. He simply wanted to see her bound before him while he exerted his mastery over her body. His pleasure. Hers. They were irrevocably entwined.
He lifted her legs, supporting her as she hung by the leather ties around her wrists. Even as he lifted, he spread her, baring her p**sy to his avid gaze.
“You have the prettiest p**sy,” he murmured, his mouth just a breath away from her most intimate flesh. “So small and feminine. I love to watch my dick open you up, see you stretched so tight around me that I wonder if you can take all of me.”
He looped her legs over his shoulders, and slid one hand to the soft folds between them. He ran a finger down her slit and back up again. At the top, he delved inward, finding the hood of flesh that sheltered her clit. He traced the edge, flaring it outward before finally touching the pulsing button.
She closed her eyes and threw back her head, her hands straining at her bonds. And then his mouth found her. Hot, damp and urgent. He tongued her, licking lower down to her entrance and then back up again to swirl around her clit.
Using his fingers, he parted her flesh and began lapping, his rough tongue setting fire to her insides. Over and over again he licked, teasing and torturous.
He found her opening and teased the rim. Circling, his tongue flicked with the lightest of brushes. And then he latched on, sucking hard as if he wanted to taste everything she had to offer.
It was simply too much. She exploded into his mouth and he never let up. Her anguished cry echoed across the room. Her legs trembled and quaked against his head, and still he wouldn’t let up.
Slowly and tenderly, her worked her down from her orgasm, licking and soothing her pulsing flesh. When he finally released her, she sagged like a deflated balloon.
Her pulse raced, and she heaved for air as he collected one of the many whips from the wall. This was no silken flogger meant to titillate more than bring pain.
He doubled it over then brushed it under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“Do you want a safe word, Angelina? Do you want to be able to quit?”
She shook her head. “I trust you.”
“Then you’re a fool,” he bit out.
“You’ll know when to stop,” she said resolutely, so much conviction shining in her voice that she throbbed. “You’ll know when I can’t take any more.”
His eyes flickered, and his mouth drew into a grim line. With those words she had ceded complete and utter power to him. He was solely responsible for her well-being.
“So be it.”
He walked soundlessly behind her, and she closed her eyes, waiting for that first lash. It was always the worst. Unexpected and shocking. Afterward she’d know what to expect.
The whip sliced through the air, and only a faint whistle alerted her a split second before fire blistered across her back.
She clamped her lips shut against the cry that threatened to burst out. Heat raced across her flesh, leaving a sharp ache in its wake. After the initial bloom of pain, pleasure blossomed and radiated through her abdomen.
Her n**ples tightened and her p**sy pulsed in anticipation. This was her sweet. Her sugar rush to end all rushes. Pain was a high for her that could never be explained. Only experienced.
The second lash came harder, surprising her with its intensity. She gasped and then held on to the sensation, not wanting it to fade away.
When he took too long to administer the third lash, she moaned her disappointment. His hand tangled in her hair and he yanked her head back, his lips pressing against her temple.
“I’m in charge here, Angel. Not you. I call the shots. This isn’t about your pleasure or pain. It’s mine. You’re mine. You just have to stand here and take it.”
He released her hair then backed away again. She swallowed rapidly, trying to quell the rise of anticipation that threatened to overwhelm her.
Breathe. She had to remember to breathe.
Her body jerked, the leather straps digging into her wrists as she reacted to the third lash. Tears swamped her eyes, and she breathed raggedly through her open mouth. Oh God. Red. So much red. It gathered in her periphery and the room swirled around her.
Four. Five. Six. The lashes fell, the sound sharp. She twisted and writhed, but she endured without a sound.
Seven. Eight. Nine.
A low hum settled in her ears and she floated, no longer feeling the strain on her wrists. She was enveloped by warmth, soft and comforting. She smiled even as she closed her eyes in anticipation of the next lash.
This. This is what she craved. The high after the pain. The edge and then toppling over. It was dreamy, smooth, more exotic than anything else she’d ever experienced.
He walked around the front and she opened her eyes. He was nude, his c*ck stiff and distended. Beautiful. So beautiful. His body was sculpted and molded as if someone had lovingly crafted him by hand. His hair hung wild to his shoulders, unruly, like him. Savage.
She saw a kindred soul when she looked into his eyes. Could he see one in hers? Did he recognize her?
The whip came up and flicked across her belly, not as hard as he’d struck her back, but the shock sent her flinching away. Before she could process the sensation, he flipped his wrist and the whip stung across her right breast, perilously close to her nipple. Then her left breast.
She found herself pushing forward, wanting the contact, her n**ples surging, tightening, wanting to feel the kiss of the whip.
He feathered welts in a distinct pattern across her chest and abdomen but always missing her n**ples. She panted and then sucked air through her nose. She needed. God, she needed.
The whip went silent, and in the next moment excruciating pain and the most indescribable pleasure assaulted her. Her n**ples felt pierced by hot needles. Her eyes flew open and she looked down to see a clamp with vicious little teeth attached to each stiff, distended nipple.
Her entire body burned, an inferno that raged across her welted skin. Arousal was savage within her. If she hadn’t been bound, she would have taken Micah before he could ever take her. It was a need so fierce she felt she might die from it.
As if sensing how close she was to absolute overload, he dropped the whip, stalked forward and threw her legs over his forearms, standing to his full height.
She was spread and draped helplessly over him, and he wasted no time possessing her. He yanked her onto his cock, plunging through her swollen tissues like a hot knife through butter. She enveloped him, swallowed him, welcomed him with every particle of her being.
Over and over his h*ps slapped against her ass. He f**ked her savagely, his features drawn tight in agony. He was hard, brutal even, and still she wanted more.
Power rolled through his big body and bled into each thrust. His c*ck battered her, ramming without mercy. He yanked her forward even as he stepped into every thrust.
Her arms pulled and stretched. Her muscles burned. Her abused flesh protested his every movement.
Without warning, he dropped her limbs, her feet hitting the floor. She stumbled, her hands flexing as her bonds held her upright.
His hand curled around his engorged cock, nearly purple the skin was stretched so tight at the head. He yanked, aiming at her body.
He directed his release onto her skin. It splattered her br**sts and rolled between them down to her belly. It splashed onto her thighs and trickled farther downward.
His. He marked her in the most primitive way he could. She loved the feel of his liquid heat sliding down her skin. She felt empowered. She felt beautiful. She felt like she belonged.
He reached up to untie her hands and she collapsed downward. Instead of catching her, he urged her down to her knees and placed a hand to her forehead to tilt her head back.
With his other hand he guided his still erect c*ck into her mouth.
“Suck me,” he said huskily.
His taste exploded into her mouth, and she ran her tongue along his length, cleaning every drop of fluid from his skin. He rocked back and forth, stroking her cheek with gentle fingers.
After several moments, he pulled free and let his softening erection drop. There wasn’t a spot on her body that didn’t throb, and she couldn’t control the wince when he helped her to her feet.
He released the clamps from her n**ples, and she cried out in agony as feeling rushed hot and wicked back into the tips. He lowered his head and licked gently at each one until the pain lessened to a dull throbbing. Then he raised his head again and kissed her lightly on the lips.
“Let me draw you a bath, Angel girl. You can soak while I fix us dinner.”
The gentleness was back in his voice, and his eyes glowed with ... She swallowed, not wanting to speculate on what he might be feeling. She’d have liked to say love, but he’d never made any pretense of the fact that he was done with love.
CHAPTER 34
Angelina curled up on the leather couch in one of the sitting rooms of The House and stared out of the window at the lush landscape. They were up on a hill, and the terrain sloped gently down until it met the high iron fence that separated the property from the highway.
Her body still throbbed, but she savored the sensation. She felt utterly content this morning, as if all was right in the world, which was a pretty stupid sentiment given there was some creep out there watching and waiting. It was a testament to how Micah made her feel, though. Safe and cherished. Protected, and yet he didn’t treat her gently. No, he was content to push her to near the breaking point. As she’d known he wouldn’t, however, he hadn’t pushed too far. He’d taken her to the brink and gently pulled her back.
His voice came over the intercom system. “Angelina, come down here.”
There was strength in the command. He expected her to obey. He’d been in Damon’s office most of the morning making phone calls and getting updates.
They still hadn’t talked about Mama Rose or his reaction to finding out she was the woman behind the mask who’d flogged him in the Miami club. Maybe they would talk now?
She rose, her stomach in knots. He’d been so angry the night before, but then he’d been angrier because she left.
When she got to Damon’s office, the door was open and she stepped inside. Micah was sitting behind the desk, leaned back in the chair as he waited for her. To her surprise, Cole was sitting in one of the chairs by the window just to the right of the desk. When had he arrived? Micah must have let him in when she was upstairs dressing.
Her gaze drifted to the left, and she came to an abrupt halt. Her mouth fell open as she stared at the equipment just a few feet away. Specially designed stocks. The highly polished wood told her the stocks were new, and the fur lining the hand and neck holds told her they’d been designed with some comfort in mind, but holy hell. She didn’t need an overly active imagination to figure out their uses.
“Take off your clothes, Angel,” Micah said.
Though she complied immediately with his quietly voiced command, her fingers shook nervously as she pulled at her jeans. Adrenaline jumped through her veins, leaving her flushed—and excited.
She paused at her panties and bra and looked to him for direction. He nodded. “Those too, Angel girl. We want to see you nak*d.”
Her eyes slanted sideways to look at Cole in her periphery. He was sitting forward in his chair, his gaze lean and hungry.