Grounded (Up in the Air #3)(67)

He struck swiftly and repeatedly along my butt and thighs. I was still sore from the roses, which added to the pain, but he was relentless, not holding back a bit. He worked me over hard.

I had nothing to hold onto, nothing to grip on the cross, so my hands curled and uncurled as the blows struck me.

My legs were spread wide, and a few rough blows to my sensitive inner thighs had me gasping with the pain. He had been the reticent Dom since he’d picked me up from the café, but the force of his blows were telling me plenty, communicating so much that he hadn’t. He was furious and hurt and scared, and that pent-up, frustrated emotion was all for me.

My flesh was on fire when he finished. There was no pause between the last blow and him thrusting into me roughly from behind.

“That wasn’t your punishment, Bianca,” he rasped into my ear. “Do you want to know what your real punishment is?”

I nodded, unable to speak as he thrust into me again and again. I was on that fine edge when he pulled out of me abruptly.

“You don’t get to come until tonight, Love. Not for hours. I’m going to work you over, f**k you thoroughly, and you don’t get an orgasm. That’s an order. And if by chance you disobey that order, you won’t get to come for a week.”

I wanted to scream in frustration, but instead I gasped as he thrust back into me, pounding inside of me, again and again.

“Don’t,” he said, knowing that I was so close.

He hit the end of me, coming with that rough little groan that I loved. I hated it right then, sobbing in frustration.

“Please,” I begged as he pulled out of me.

“Not until tonight,” he said firmly.

He left me there for long minutes before coming back to unfasten me. I didn’t move after I was loose, instead I just lay against that X and waited.

He sighed and swept me up into a cradle hold.

He carried me to the playground, laying me onto a firmly cushioned surface. At the first touch of my back to the table, I began to look around. There were two such tables in this room that I knew of for sure. I saw from where I was positioned just what he had in mind, but not before he had my wrists and ankles strapped tightly to the corners of the table.

He watched me intently while he slipped on tight latex gloves. “Any objections?” he asked, a touch of a taunt in the question, almost like he was daring me.

I set my jaw hard, just watching him, daring him to do his worst.

He gave me a tight smile and got to work.

He washed and dried the area around my ni**les with a clinical thoroughness. He pulled tiny metal forceps from the open drawer built into the table.

He didn’t hesitate, using it to grip my left nipple firmly. At the end of the metal instrument was a small hoop that fit around my hard nipple perfectly. He held it captive while he leaned in close and marked it carefully on each side.

I had to tell myself to breathe as I watched him. I was painfully tense, not knowing what to expect. I’d never had anything pierced but my ears before.

He carefully studied the marks he’d made, my nipple still held firmly with those mean little forceps. He put the pen away, pulling out a sadistic looking needle with the same hand.

My eyes were glued to that thick needle as he pushed the sharp, hollowed-out tip of it into my skin. I took one very deep breath and held it.

He pushed it into my skin, and through, with a quick, almost smooth motion. It was painful but fast, the sight and feel of it a shock to my system.

He laced a tiny silver hoop into the needle, pulling it through, and then slipping the bigger needle out.

I watched my chest rise and fall as I started breathing again.

He pressed a cloth very gently to the newly pierced area before striding away.

He came back less than a minute later with two small, cold gel packs in his hands. One he set in the open drawer, the other against my pierced nipple.

“Are you up for the other?” he asked, watching me carefully. Even in this dangerous mood, I still saw concern.

I took a deep breath and nodded.

He changed his gloves before he gave my right breast the same treatment, quickly and with consummate skill. He tended to both br**sts, carefully cleaning and icing them. The aftercare took much longer than the actual piercing had.

When he was done, he took off his gloves and unfastened me, picking me up and carrying me directly to the bed.

He laid me on my back, his hand moving between my legs to push one finger into me.

I glared at him.

He laughed. It was a cold laugh. My tender-lover was still very much missing, even with those little glimpses of concern I’d seen from him as he’d tended to me.

“Now, now, Love. Looking at me like that can get you punished, as well. Don’t think that it can’t get worse than a sore ass, some pierced ni**les, and one day without an orgasm.”

Very deliberately, I shut my eyes and turned my head away, defiant of what I knew he wanted from me. I was pissed.

He just laughed that merciless laugh. “Okay, have it your way. I was going to leave you alone, but this is certainly more fun for me.”

He pushed me flat onto my back, and tied me spread-eagle to the bed. I kept my eyes shut tight.

He crawled between my legs and gripped my chin, very careful to avoid brushing against my tender br**sts.

“Look at me. Now,” he growled.

I hesitated, but finally looked at him. I swallowed hard then moaned loudly as he lined himself up at my entrance, ramming in to the hilt.