Stealing His Thunder (Masters of Adrenaline) (7 page)

“Fine. I’m willing to accept punishment from you, within reason.”

He nodded solemnly, as though he’d expected that to be her answer. Fucking cocky bastard.

She had a suspicion he wasn’t going to be one of those dominants who gave a girl a little spanking and called it a punishment.

When he stood and pushed her face down on the bed, her breath caught in her throat. He went back to the cabinet and returned with one hand fisted as though he had something concealed in it. Her anticipation cranked up a notch. If she was lucky she could just fake not liking it.

It took a lot of effort not to glance back at him over her shoulder, but she didn’t want to piss him off. Instead, she waited, inhaling the crisp scent of the bedding.

“Have you ever been whipped with a strip of leather?” In front of her face, he shook out a black strip no bigger than a shoelace.

That was it? She had the urge to snicker, but kept it to herself. How bad could something that tiny be? She’d had a belt used on her before.

“No.”

“You remember your safeword?”

A smile threatened to curve her lips, but she bit them into a line before she betrayed herself.

“Yes.”

“Twenty.”

With that thing? Big deal. “Okay.”

The leather brushed against her ass, then tapped a few times. A sting. Hmm. Kind of nice. She shifted, enjoying the burn, but trying not to let on. There was the sound of him stepping back, followed by a high-pitched whistling noise.

What the . . . ?

A stinging lash cut across one of her butt cheeks, wrapping around to lick the top of her thigh. She sucked in a breath, but the next one followed, then a third.

Dammit! That fucking hurt!

More sharp stings rained down. She squealed, rising onto her toes to try to get away from the sensation. Each stripe he’d left burned, way more painfully than any thuddy implement that had ever been used on her, and very different from a belt.

She tried to dance away, but his big hand shoved between her shoulder blades and pinned her in place.

The feel of him holding her down mixed with the pain he inflicted. She could already feel herself slipping down into the numbed haze of subspace.

“Stay,” he barked.

When he removed his hand from her back, she could still feel the heat from his palm sinking deep into her skin. She didn’t dare stir. How many was that? She’d lost track. Did the first few taps count? She rubbed her mouth on the duvet, the feel of the fabric against her lips grounding her. Subspace was something she usually chased after, hoping to find it, but she didn’t want to go now. There was a strong incentive to stay aware and bask in the dominance he exuded. Even the sound of his boots on the hardwood floor made her squirm. She wanted to remember every detail and store it in her spank bank for later.

“Eleven.”

Hell
. She clawed at the blanket, twisting it in her hands. Her ass and thighs were on fire. She should have put her thighs on her hard limits list too, fucker.

More blows rained down, and more again.

“Nineteen.”

Almost over.
Thank god.
Safewording during their first time together would make her feel like a pussy.

The sound of the cord shrieking through the air made her entire body tense. A lick of fire cut across her ass, wrapping around to sting her all the way to her hip. She screeched, the sound getting louder when he traced the mark the last shot must have left. When she got control over her noise, every breath she took came in a shuddering gasp. Her entire body was locked, knotted. Her ass throbbed like the bassline at a metal concert, but the pain was all ringing treble.

From over her shoulder came a low growl of approval. “You mark up so fucking pretty.”

She felt her cheeks heat, suddenly too aware he was staring at her ass. Lord knew she had a round one. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back.

“Kneel.”

Now? Was he serious?

Only allowing herself one quiet whine, she carefully slid to the floor and knelt, flinching when her heels met her butt.

Fire down below, and not in the fun way—although her slick thighs proved she was lying to herself.

After a long moment, she realized he was looking down at her expectantly. She’d been so caught up in how her body was feeling and the way her mind was scrambling around, she hadn’t noticed he was waiting for something.

She looked up at him, but couldn’t quite meet his eyes. Her nipples were puckered so hard, she wished she could hide them from his probing gaze. But he wasn’t missing a thing.

The man knew too much. He would have to be killed . . . but later, after he got her off a few hundred times.

“What do you have to say for yourself, Addison?”

He stood over her, the strength in his stance and the sharpness in his gaze made her want to go belly down and grovel. To kiss the toe of his boot. Anything to make him happy with her. The haze moved in again, and she tried to fight it off, but it was like slapping at fog.

Uhh . . .

Please fuck my brains out?

Sorry about drooling?

My ass is in love with you?

She stared at him blankly for a moment, his stern gaze giving her a shiver that went through her whole body. Her nipples ached, and she wished he’d do something mean to them, even if she hated it.

“Um . . .”

He sighed and shook his head in disapproval.

If she didn’t say the right thing, was he going to punish her again? Lord, she kind of wanted him to.

“Do you feel like you learned anything from that?” he prompted helpfully.

She nodded slowly, her eyes widening. “Yes, Fox. I’m sorry. I’ll try to behave.”

He made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a groan, and grasped her chin, his thumb brushing her bottom lip. Before she could stop herself, her tongue darted out to taste it. Heat flared in his eyes and her body responded, only wanting to please him.

“I guess that’ll have to do for now,” he said, then cupped the side of her face. She leaned into it like a cat, and for a blissful moment he stared into her eyes and stroked her face. Every bone in her body melted into a messy little puddle.

“On the bed now.” He helped her up and onto the mattress as her legs wobbled beneath her. The feeling of her ass meeting the duvet made her want to pop back up onto her feet, but the satisfaction in his gaze when she winced made it worthwhile.

At some point he’d rebuttoned his pants, and the way his dick strained at the fabric, she knew what he’d want next. Would he be the kind of guy who liked teeth or not? Would he groan, or just watch her suck his cock in dominant silence? Or would he boss her around while she did it? The squirm she couldn’t control made her bottom ache.

He leaned past her, grabbing something behind her back.

Rope. Already? Dammit.

She thought of begging to suck his cock and struggled to control herself. Maybe he wouldn’t have minded hearing it, but letting herself get drawn so far into submissive headspace, so soon, was mortifying. But, these feelings weren’t just from today. All of their interactions to date had led her this far down the rabbit hole. Every gesture, every time he’d taken charge and done delicious things to her—there was a reason her mind was accepting his dominance so fast. He’d been priming her for this all along.

Fox arranged a few pillows under her back and head, propping her up, likely so she could see what he was doing.

With fluid movements, and long strokes of his fingers along her skin, he tied her wrist to ankle on both sides, then secured each ankle to the feet of the bed. Between the fact that he’d placed her so close to the end of the bed, and that there was no footboard, when he was done, she was wide open and vulnerable to him. When he surveyed his handiwork, his brows lowered at the one thing he’d forgotten.

“Fuck.”

She didn’t laugh, but it was close. Maybe she should have mentioned he hadn’t removed her underwear earlier, but who was she to point out the obvious to a man so intent on tying her up?

“You think this is funny?”

The only safe answer was to press her lips together and close her eyes.

Something cold touched her leg, and when her eyes flew open, Fox was grinning down at her lazily. The bottom blade of a pair of very sharp-looking scissors felt like a streak of ice on her thigh. Her heart rate kicked up a notch, speeding far faster than was probably safe. It wasn’t like it was a knife, but it was still sexy and threatening.

“I’m going to cut these panties off of you,” he said, his voice husky. “Is there anything you’d like to say in their defense?”

“No, Fox. Other than the fact that I won’t have any to wear home.”

The evil leer that spread across his sexy face suggested he approved of that predicament.

“If you were mine, I’d need to open an account for you at Victoria’s Secret. The way the scissors make you shudder is . . . entertaining.”

He slid the metal up the crease of her leg to her belly, circling her navel before returning to the hollow inside her hip. The scissors opened far wider than necessary as he slid the string at one hip between the blades. Rather than making the cut immediately, he moved them back and forth, his gaze hooded. With painstaking slowness, he closed the scissors. Her breath quivered in her throat, the tension of waiting for it to happen feeling like the momentous buildup before a stellar orgasm. The dark lust in his gaze hinted at the violence that lurked beneath his usually flippant veneer. He apparently liked scaring her and had loved hurting her during the punishment, if his hard-on was any indication.

Playing with him was feeling decidedly less safe. She trusted him to stop if she safeworded, but how easy would it be for him to comply?

The snip, when it came, made her moan aloud. The quiet slicing sound was followed by the shred of fabric slipping aside, baring her. Rather than shove the remaining side down her leg, he moved the scissors to the other side, toying with her there awhile before cutting that side away.

For a long, heart-stopping moment, he gazed at her nakedness before he stood to lay the scissors aside. He retrieved a black case the size of his palm from the pile of stuff on the bed. When he approached her again, there was nothing friendly or humorous about his smile.

“Mmm . . . Will you look at this?” He grabbed her ankle, squeezed, then slid his hand up her calf and thigh, his touch getting progressively lighter the closer he got to her pussy. “You get so quiet and biddable when you’re trapped.” He popped the case open, and gave it a considering look.

The anticipation was killing her.

“What’s in there?” she whispered, a bit ashamed of herself for not just waiting like she should have.

He arched a brow. Shit. Was he the type of guy who’d get pissy at being questioned? Without a word, he turned the case toward her. It held a dastardly assortment of makeup brushes and feathers. Tickling? Crap, she’d never last. Her skin already felt shivery just looking at them.

“Do you want to tell me where you hid the tracking device now, or are you choosing to be tortured?”

Damn. The man made the word “tortured” sound exhilarating.

“How long are you going to torture me for?”

He shrugged. “No clock in here. I have to warn you, though. I love this game. I can play for hours, so if you think you’re going to outwait me, it’s not going to happen.”

Hours? She was so horny that two minutes might do her in.

“Go for it.” She tried for nonchalant but her shaky voice gave away her apprehension.

His eyes glittered, but he smoothed his expression. Leaning over her, he kissed her lips, a sweet, reassuring kiss that gradually stole her breath before he pulled away. When she strained after him, he smiled with mock regret then stroked back her hair.

Right. No fraternizing with the enemy.

The first thing he chose was a fat blush brush. He moved to the side of the bed then dragged the brush down the outside of her arm with a firmness that felt pleasant and didn’t tickle. Down her leg he went, then up the other until he completed the circuit at the other arm. He started over, the next stroke lighter. It made her try to jerk her arm away, but trussed up as she was there wasn’t much she could do.

The brush skated over her belly, up between her breasts, then circled each of them in turn, avoiding her aching nipples. Need that already burned flamed higher—fast—far too fast for her to control her reactions. Her body undulated under the shivery assault of the brush, trying to shy away from it, but failing. There were no breaks. He was relentless.

Each shudder and gasp he won from her brought a fresh wave of mortification. He was barely touching her—it shouldn’t be turning her on so bad, considering he hadn’t gone near anything particularly sensitive yet. She’d seen the feathers and envisioned doing a lot of giggling, but there was nothing funny about this.

He drew the brush down her belly to her thigh and tickled her there, then moved around to the foot of the bed and went to work on sensitizing her thighs. Every molecule in her body felt like it was straining toward him, begging for him to be kind and thoroughly fuck her.

“Where is it hidden, Addison?” His voice was so quiet that for a moment she thought she’d imagined it.

“Please fuck me, Fox.” The words were out of her mouth before she realized they were in there.

He smiled pleasantly, calmly, which made it all the more maddening. “Bad girls don’t get cock, sweetness.” She forced herself not to whimper in disappointment. “You tell me what I want to know, and I’ll give you what you want.”

Rather than waiting for an answer, or giving her a reprieve, he kept working on her. Closer, closer he got to her pussy. Teasing her with a few flicks of the soft bristles against the bareness of her labia. Why the hell had she waxed for this guy? It made this torture thing too easy.

She strained her legs wider apart, and dug her heels into the mattress to try to trick him into touching her harder, but he yanked his hand back.

“Bad girl,” he repeated, frowning at her. “Now look at what you made me do.” He reached into the black case and drew out a pristine white feather. “Such a naughty girl.”