He told her the truth. The rage was there once more, building and building until he thought he’d go insane with it, even though he tried to make a joke out of it. “I want you wearing these while I stripe you. I’m going to fuck you, baby. Hard. Ride you hard. Smack your ass. I won’t take your ass here, but I’m gonna play. This one isn’t for you, this one is to keep the demon under control. You up for that shit? Because I need you up for it. If you’re not, say so now, so we can stop and I can try to get myself under control until we get home.”
He needed her to be. God, he hated himself, but she had to do this for him. He couldn’t be alone with her, not when he was so close to being out of control. His brothers would stop him if he lost his mind. She needed to be safe, and he needed her to put the monster back in the cage. He waited for her to nod. For her to give her consent. He needed that too. Needed to know Seychelle was his partner and with him every step of the way. She had to consent to suffer for him. To give him her pain. To give him her tears. He was that big of a fucking monster, and there was no way to stop it unless he put a bullet in his head.
Her blue gaze moved over him. “If I say I can’t do it, what are we going to do?”
His heart sank. “We stop, baby. We stop and I get myself under control. We’ll pick up at home.”
If it was possible for her blue gaze to soften more, it did. “I love you, Savage. I’m up for this.” Her voice was low, a mere thread of sound, barely there, but it was there.
Triumph swept through him. He didn’t wait. Never once had he taken his gaze from hers, refusing to allow her to look away. He controlled her, mesmerized her, completely dominated her with his gaze. It always made clamping her so much more intense. Pinching her nipple hard once more, he stretched it and then attached the clover clamp. He was deliberately slow, taking his time. Her “jewelry” was really three solid beads, each a little larger than the next. He had been careful, making certain they weren’t too heavy, but every time they moved, that clamp pinched tighter and sent fire flashing through her.
Her breath hissed out, and she bit her lip, but she didn’t cry out as the clamp settled and bit into her. He flicked the little chain of balls, sending them swinging. Her eyes filled. Those liquid tears, so beautiful. One spilled over, and he leaned into her and licked it from her face. Tasted what he needed. What she gave to him. Her gift.
He took her other breast in his mouth, taking his time, gentle, tender even. Unexpectedly biting down so that she gasped and instinctively pulled back, only to have his teeth settle around her nipple. Pulling. Pinching hard. He let go, watching her face the entire time as he clamped that throbbing nipple. It was there. That look he needed. That expression.
“Would you do anything for me, Seychelle?” He stroked caresses down the back of her head, feeling the silk of her hair. She wore it long because he’d asked her to. She hadn’t worn a bra because he’d asked her not to. He knew her pussy was bare because he’d insisted she let him shave it. He wanted her bare so she would feel every delicious thing he did to her and he could see the marks stark on her flesh.
Instantly, she looked leery. “Almost. I have limits.”
He knew her limits, and he was grateful she had them.
The clamp had pinched hard enough to bring more tears, and he licked at each one, grateful for them, sipping on them as if they were the finest wine. To him, they were. He needed them. He needed to cause them and ease them. He was that fucking sick. He flicked the balls, both strands, and watched her face as they swung.
“What’s that feel like, baby?”
“Pain. Fire.” Her body shuddered. “Good. Bad. I don’t know.”
He smiled and flicked the beads again. Her entire body shuddered again.
“Maybe we need to see how it makes you feel. Let’s ask your little pussy.” His hand dropped to the buttons of her jeans. He opened them and then slid the denim off her hips, down her legs to her ankles. He waited for her to step out of them. She hadn’t worn panties because he told her not to in the text he’d sent. His hand slipped between her legs. Heat poured off her. His palm found slick honey.