The King (The Original Sinners: White Years, #2)(72)

of his hand against her clitoris.

“One finger,” she whispered. “One.”

He slipped one finger between her folds and inside her. So

warm, so wet. He closed his eyes.

“You like it inside me?” she asked.

“Yes,” he breathed.

“If you survive the pain I’m going to inf lict on you, I’ll let you inside me again. I might let you put your cock in me. If

you take everything I give you.”

“I promise, Ma?tresse, I can take it.”

“What’s your safe word?” she asked as Kingsley continued

to stroke inside her body with one finger.

“I don’t have one.”

“Choose one.”

“I don’t need one.”

“You have f lashbacks from recent trauma. You need one.” “If I have a f lashback, consider that my safe word.” Mistress Felicia laughed, and Kingsley felt her muscles gripping his finger. Two weeks… He was dying to be inside her.

The wait would almost kill him. But for all that, he wanted

the pain she had to offer even more than the sex. It had been

so long since he’d let himself have the type of pain S?ren had

given him when they were teenagers. He hadn’t planned on

submitting to anyone tonight. But now that Mistress Felicia

was here, he realized submission was what he most wanted. Kingsley nearly groaned aloud in disappointment when she

took his wrist again and moved his hand from her. But then

she opened his pants.

“Don’t get hard,” she ordered.

“It would help if you left the room, Ma?tresse.”

“You’re a big boy. You have self-control. Use it.” Kingsley focused his mind on things unlikely to arouse

him—politics, airplane crashes, a bad case of the shingles,

vanilla sex.

“Good boy,” she said, slipping two fingers between her

breasts and from her corset producing a leather strap. “Fuck.” He sighed.

“Eventually,” she said, and wrapped the strap around his

testicles and the base of his penis. Cock ring. Pleasure and

torture all in one.

“You have a beautiful cock,” she said, massaging it with

both hands. The leather of her gloves abraded, and he quickly

grew hard from the bite of the seams against his most sensitive skin. She grasped his cock by the base and slid her hands

up and down the shaft. Fluid appeared on the tip and dripped

onto her gloves.

“Eager, aren’t you?”

“I haven’t had sex in two weeks,” he confessed. “Eager is

an understatement.”

“It’s such an impressive erection, I’d hate for you to lose it

before I had time to enjoy it.”

“You’ll enjoy it,” he promised, as she traced the edges of

the leather strap. Blood pooled and pumped into the shaft,

and he closed his eyes tight.

“Does it hurt?”

“A little,” he said.

“Good.” She grinned at him. “It’s a start anyway. Now

stand there, don’t move. I’m going to take your clothes off.

I’ve heard rumors that Kingsley Edge had one of the better

male bodies in the city. Time I find out for myself.” She pulled his jacket off his shoulders and pushed it down

his arms. When she had it off, she walked to the armchair and

laid it carefully over the back. He knew better than to think

she was showing respect for him by showing respect for his

clothes. No, he had a cock ring on and a painful erection. She

would undress him as slowly as possible, dragging the process

out until he was in agony.

“When was the first time you submitted to erotic pain?”

she asked as she unbuttoned his vest.

“Eleven years ago.”

“You’re so young,” she said. “How old were you when you

started doing kink?”

“Sixteen.”

“Domme?”

“Sadist,” he said. “Male.”

“Sixteen’s awfully young to be submitting to a sadist.” “He was seventeen, Ma?tresse.”

Mistress Felicia laughed. “I wish I had gone to your high

school instead of mine.”

“You couldn’t have. It was an all-boys Catholic school.” “Catholic,” she said as she removed his shirt. She didn’t

f linch at the sight of the scars on his chest. She’d likely seen

worse in her work. “I should send the pope a check. I get half

my clients from his church.”

Lifting his feet to let her tug his boots off sent pain shooting into his stomach. He hated cock rings. He could keep his

erection without one. But the pain did what pain always did

to him—cleared his mind, pulled him out of the past, obliterated the future. There was nothing but now, right now, and

the pain that held him in place, unable to think, unable to

dream, unable to want anything but more pain.

Mistress Felicia tugged his pants down, folded them neatly