“If she is, she’ll be the first. And considering women and men have played with ginger for generations? She’ll probably be the last.” As Morgan strained against the cuffs binding her hands, Grant tilted his head toward the bench, realizing the ginger was beginning to take effect. “But you’re right, Blake, we’ll have to wait and see what happens.”
Chapter Seven
Wait hell! She was ready to blow up in a matter of minutes. Her nipples were already on fire. Her pussy was a fucking inferno, and her ass? Oh God, if they didn’t remove that thorn from her bottom, she might kill them both if she ever had the chance.
Or maybe not kill them exactly, but perhaps torture them. Hmm, torture. She couldn’t help but think of the delicious ways they planned to punish and seduce her. Already, the slow burn was excruciating and exhilarating at the same time.
If they meant to punish her, they might have considered another way to torment her. The gingerroot provoked lust in the third degree. The combustion combined pain and pleasure like someone set a match to her folds with every intention of torching her insides.
She felt afflicted, as if she were being persecuted for the past choices she’d made. Perhaps Grant and Blake planned to help her lose sight of the drug upon which she’d long since focused. Maybe they had a fail-proof plan to help her sober up once and for all.
“Oh my goodness, you have no idea what this feels like,” she whispered, her cheek mashed against the bench.
“We have some,” Blake said, stroking her arm.
“Describe it,” Grant grated out. “What are you feeling? Tell me.”
“I can’t. It’s too delicious. Too intense. Hot.” She strangled on the words choking her. She bucked against her position, dying to rub against something cold or hot, slick or rough. Good God, she was ready. She’d never been so turned on in her life!
If she could trade one addiction for another, undoubtedly she saw the benefits of getting hooked on their loving. Why couldn’t sex remedy her meth cravings? If her mind were preoccupied, filled with ideas for their next intimate encounter, she wouldn’t have an idle moment, one capable of turning her focus toward distorted images, illusions she only saw when she wasn’t pumped full of her favorite poison.
The simmering began at the base of her spine. From front to back, her body tingled from the inside out. Good Lord, the building heat was almost as intense as an orgasm. “I could use some help over here.”
Grant smirked. “What kind of help, sub?”
“I need to get off,” she told him. “Please.”
Blake shook his head. “You’ll wait.”
“And she’ll remember how to address us properly.”
“Please, Sir!” she exclaimed, her body groveling for the pleasure, seeking more stimulation as she writhed under their hands. Beads of sweat trickled across her forehead. She strained against the cuffs, arching her back as she lifted her chest slightly away from the bench.
In her peripheral vision, she noticed Grant plugging in a device. “What is that?” she shrieked, her defenses shattering as the sizzling sensations zipped through her clit and heated her entire body.
The scandalous look he gave her sent shivers down her spine, but it wasn’t anything comparable to the intimidating device he waved in front of her face. The foreign object represented a larger threat, tantalizing her insides with the promise of pleasure provoked by a sliver of pain.
The violet wand was frequently discussed among the hookers Kilo employed. Those he put on the street often purchased their own after clients introduced them to the experience.
Grant let the cord dangle from his fingertips. “Don’t worry. It will only sting for a little while.”
She rocked forward, appreciating the smoldering tingle burning her clit, rousing her nipples. A special treat, the ginger made her insides clench as the forbidden enticed her in a way in which she’d never been tempted before.
To think, she’d been told as an addict she’d never have the same sex drive again. Hell and damnation. Maybe that was the truth. Her sex drive wasn’t the same—her libido was on overload!
She couldn’t thank meth for that. Wait. Oh yes she could. Meth had, in a roundabout way, led her back to Grant and Blake.
“That’s right,” she whispered.
“What is?” Blake asked, frowning, studying her face.
“I was thinking about how meth led me back to you.”
Grant grunted. He bit his bottom lip and Blake put up his hand. “I’ve got this.”
“It’s true,” she pressed. “If I wasn’t hooked on meth, who knows where I’d be right now. I probably wouldn’t be here with you. I might have left home, pursued a career in the city, and never looked back. We don’t know. We can thank meth for bringing us back together.”
“So help me God, if I have to listen to another junkie praise the name of meth, I may go crazy,” Grant said, moving around Blake when he tried to stand between him and Morgan.