Dangerous Games (Riley Jenson Guardian 4)

A quiver of anticipation ran across my skin as he began to slide the straps down my shoulders.

"Watch," Kingsley ordered, and this time I had no choice.

Jan had stripped and stretched her body across the barrel. Marcus had tied her limbs to rings set in the floor, stretching her arms and legs wide and pressing her stomach down against the tiny spikes. As yet, they hadn't broken skin, because I couldn't see or smell blood, but it obviously wouldn't take much more pressure to do so.

Marcus began to strip, and even in my detached state, I could find nothing truly beautiful about him. He was just a man, all sinew and big bones, with a regular old dick. Not that I minded regular old dicks if the packaging around them was decent enough.

The sound of a hand slapping sharply against flesh made me jump a little. I blinked, and realized that somewhere along the line, Marcus had donned a leather glove on his right hand. From each gloved fingertip extended barbed strips of leather. As he slapped Jan's back, the force of his blows pressed her stomach down against the spikes and the little strips lashed out, striking her shoulders with some force.

It wasn't very long at all before her already scarred back became a raw and bloody mess, but her breaths were short, shuddery gasps of pleasure, and the air was thick and heavy with the scent of her blood and her need.

And it wasn't only hers.

The sharp smell of Raven's arousal spun through the air, filled with desperation and need. As much as it sickened me to think she was enjoying the show and Gautier, the scent only served to fuel my own to greater heights.

Jin's fingertips slid down my arms, taking the dress straps with them, and the dress itself was soon a puddle of green silk at my feet. He took my purse and tossed it off to one side, then slid his fingers up my stomach and firmly grasped my engorged nipples. He pinched them, hard, and the jolt that ran through me was all pleasure. For a wolf in the midst of moon heat, any touch could be pleasurable. And right now, despite the situation, despite my odd detachment - or maybe because of it - I just wanted his caress, be it hard or soft.

"Watch," Kingsley intoned, his voice seeming to echo, as if it had come from a very great distance.

Marcus was no longer just hitting her. He was between her legs and fucking her, thrusting hard and deep as she twisted, screamed, and, eventually, came. She went limp against the barrel, but the big man didn't stop, pounding and pounding and pounding his body into hers.

And my muscles were jumping, my skin quivering, as if it was me down there, and I wanted, so wanted, the release that hovered so close and yet so far.

But then Marcus came and the quivering stopped, and it was all I could do not to scream in frustration.

Kingsley laughed softly. "I think this one is ready to do more than just watch."

Jin was still pinching, still teasing. "Yes," he said, his voice a husky drawl near my ear. "She's more than ready."

"Then prepare her." He reached out, caressing my cheek. "Gautier, you may continue your pleasures with Raven on whatever machine you choose."

The woman's thick moan of pleasure followed me out of the room. I was glad I could no longer see Gautier, but I could feel his gaze on me, long after we'd left the room.

We passed through another doorway filled with the feel of resisting power, and into a small square room. In it was a set of standard wooden medieval stocks, though this one had an odd, stomach-height wooden bar set about two feet out from the stocks themselves. There was nothing else in the room. Nothing living or inanimate, anyway.

There were wisps of smoke that stirred in dark corners, and I swear they whispered of horrors I could only hope never to experience.

Fear rose briefly, and I stumbled, fust for a moment, the fog dissipated and clarity of thought made a brief appearance. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. I had to get out of here. Had to.

I wrenched my arm from Jin's grasp and spun around, one foot lashing out, kicking him hard in the gut. Dragon or not, he was still wrapped in human flesh, and the human went down with a huge gasp for air.

But he wasn't down for long enough.

As I ran for the door, he lunged forward, grabbing my heel and yanking hard. I came down face-first, and my chin split open on the cold tiles. Blood sprayed, and pain exploded. I swore and twisted, kicking him in the head, trying to get him to release me. I had the strength of a were and a vampire behind me, but it didn't seem to be making a whole lot of difference. Inch by bloody inch, I was being drawn inexorably toward him.

I swore again and pushed into a sitting position, lurching for one of his fingers and yanking it backward brutally. Bone snapped and he screamed - a sound filled with fury and pain and desire.

He hit me with his free hand, the blow landing hard and snapping my head backward. I hit the tiles a second time, and for several seconds I saw stars.

By then he was on me, his weight pinning me, his legs pushing mine apart as he grabbed my wrists and held them above my head. "I thought you didn't like it too rough," he said, his hand between us, yanking at the zip on his pants.

I struggled against him, but when he thrust deep inside, I couldn't help the tremor of pleasure. The moon was high, the fever raged, and I wanted sex. Any sex. Even his.

But I wasn't so far gone that I'd let pleasure overwhelm the need for safety.

"Rough is one thing. Force is another."

I somehow managed to buck my body, threw him off me, then scrambled to my feet and ran again for the door. Straight into the warm and naked body of John Kingsley.