Savage Road (Torpedo Ink 7)
He didn’t know a single person who could rival his work. This was sheer beauty. He kissed his way to her nipple and flicked it with his tongue. She shivered, a groan escaping. She thrust her breast into the hot cavern of his mouth while her eyes devoured his fist wrapped around the scarred ridges of his brutally erect cock.
He sucked her nipple into his mouth, the nipple he’d slashed each time with those wicked red talons when he’d formed that beautiful bralette with his whip.
She nodded. “I said I’d do it.”
“Not the same thing as wanting it, babe. You have to say you want the fire. Tell me you want the fire, Seychelle. You want to burn with me in it.”
She swallowed hard, but he knew he was going to win. He saw capitulation in her eyes first, and it was all he could do not to howl at the moon in triumph.
“Yes, Savage, I want the fire.”
He grinned at her, letting her see his cruelty. The rush. The euphoria when he held such power over her. “You can’t move, Seychelle. Stay perfectly still or you’ll mess up the lines.”
He stepped back immediately and pointed to his player, turning up the volume, as Five Finger Death Punch’s Jekyll and Hyde burst out into the night. As the music swelled, pouring what he was into his veins, he saw the same beat take hold of the little button at her clit and the merciless plug in her ass. She would need the pleasurable sensations to counter the new whip he was using to form the cute little decorative shorts he would cover her ass and thighs with, and that gorgeous mound of hers.
He shook out the whip. It was a single tail leading into five thin braided fingers, long ones. Each finger ended in a single knotted tiny decorative rose. He’d braided the whip himself. The handle was flexible, just as the other whip had been, giving him plenty of control and movement. The first strike had a satisfying crack as he snapped it using a well-practiced flick of his wrist. The tail was fast, a blur, as it whipped out those five long, wicked fingers seeking their target unerringly.
He saw them hit perfectly just below her hips, all five laying those stripes that ended in the gorgeous roses pitting into her delicate skin. The fingers stung like a mother, and she reacted with a stifled cry, her body flushing, endorphins bringing a fine sheen of sweat and goose bumps to the surface. A fresh flood of tears trickled down her face.
The power settled into him, drove him higher. The music took him, thundered through his veins, pounded through his blood as he rained lash after lash down, over and across, creating the perfect pair of shorts to go with the bralette. The welts were a darker red, and there were more of them, the lines curling around her thighs and hips. This whip was a step above the last one, and he put a little more punch into it.
Savage moved around her continually, the whip never stopping, although he had to remind her not to move. Her body shuddered. Her breathing was ragged. She struggled not to move her hips when the wicked stimulation at her clit pounded to the beat of the music. All the while, the plug in her ass pulsed and massaged in counter rhythm. She needed those pleasurable sensations desperately to counter the terrible pain of those stinging fingers.
He found himself putting more and more strength into that flick of his wrist, just a little harder, watching her closely, seeing how much she could—and would—take for him. The high was getting higher. The rush stronger. His cock was close to exploding.
She had such a perfect ass, and he made certain that those curves had perfect lines all the way around, the welts raised and dark, especially on her sit spot. He studied his handiwork, his heart nearly exploding with the high.
“Yeah, baby,” he said softly, as he moved around once again to her front. “Let me see you cry for me. Give me your tears. Those are mine. All for me. That’s you loving me.”
Power and control wrapped him in euphoria and arousal beyond anything he’d known. Dominance and a primal feeling of sheer ownership, as if she belonged to him and he could do whatever he wished with her, settled over him. He needed this. He wanted it and he needed it. The craving was so strong, and she was his to do with whatever he willed.
He sent the whip snapping through the air, those beautiful, wicked roses with the tiny thorns hit in a beautiful fall, one after another, like a flowing waterfall this time, right on her mound. He didn’t wait, bringing it back and snapping it out again and again. Five times in a row.