Wishing Well(51)

Footsteps softly fell over soft carpets I knew were dark, the cuffs that bound my wrists and ankles gently rattling as I braced for what would come. I stood trembling, locked in helplessness, locked in a state of deprivation, locked in place without knowing if it was pain I’d suffer, or pleasure.

A masculine growl of satisfaction filtered through the air. Feral, primal, intimately possessive, as a hand closed over my breast. A gasp burst from my lips, every muscle locking as the hand released me to be replaced by his mouth. I cried out when the soft, wet heat of a tongue transitioned to the sting of teeth.

Tear slipping from my eye, pain spreading like a spider’s web, I cried, “Stop, it hurts.”

“Shhhhhhhh ...” was all he said before biting down again, a finger slipping between my legs. Every sensation was heightened, my body a taut string to be played as pleasure collided with pain.

I couldn’t be sure, but as my body trembled against the rush of opposite sensation, I intuited the careful struggle, the barely discernible battle, of a man trying not to lose control. It was a vibration that surrounded me, an energy that reminded me to be afraid.

The finger slipped inside me, his teeth biting down harder on the center of my breast before his tongue licked the pain away.

More tears spilled over my cheeks as his finger moved inside me.



My fear...

His fear...

Our fear...

It was hypnotic and intoxicating.



Mouth pulling away, the crushing grip of his hand took possession of my other breast, his finger still moving inside me - faster, harder, deeper - until this powerful man lost control.

Don’t be afraid...

A voice slipping through the silence. Vincent’s voice.

Obey...

I was being studied. I could feel his eyes watching me with greedy hunger. I knew that with one wrong move, the gentleness he was fighting to give me would be lost with his restraint.

Why did the thought of him losing control make my body beg for more?

His touch was gone so suddenly...until both hands locked down on my wrists over the cross, locking me in place. Unable to keep from crying out, I swallowed the fear, shaking as those punishing hands trailed along my arms, over my breasts, down my waist to grasp my hips, and then his mouth was between my legs.

Tongue, teeth, virile hunger, he owned me while he was on his knees. My head fell back, his hands releasing my hips to palm my ass, his fingers gripping down until I flinched from the pain. Like a starving man, he tasted me, gorged himself on me, driving his tongue inside to swallow my release. And when he softly, slowly, regretfully pulled away from me, I felt a distinct change in the air.

Where there had been restraint, none now existed. Where there had been care, cruelty now reigned. I wasn’t given the slightest hint of warning before he thrust himself inside me, the cuffs over my ankles cutting into my skin. His fingernails dragged down the backs of my thighs with each driving beat of body, gripping me behind the knees to spread my legs apart despite the shackles that bound me.

Lost to the predatory rhythm, the viciousness of his thrusts, I moaned out the wicked pleasure, relieving the pressure building inside. My back slammed against the padded cross, my heart hammering, my muscles gripping as he drove himself impossibly deeper, as his feral nature devoured me.

I’d been a stupid girl to give myself away so easily, but if this was the punishment I would receive, I would do it again and again.

A switch was thrown, the pleasure relentless, an orgasm surging through me so violently that I screamed out in release.

It only drove him harder. Only forced him to pull away, to rip at the shackles of my wrists and ankles, to break the hold they’d held. I fell forward, unable to keep myself standing, but I was caught over a strong shoulder, I was lifted and carried before being lowered down and positioned with my stomach over a padded bench.

With one strong hand, he pinned my wrists to the wall in front of me and he thrust inside me again. He owned me as he forced himself deeper, he tormented me as his teeth dragged down my back, and as his palm closed over the weight of my ass, he slipped his thumb between the cheeks and pushed the width within the tight opening and claimed possession of me entirely.

Another orgasm as his chest vibrated against my back, another scream as his teeth locked down at the junction of my shoulder and neck, a rush of his power crashing through me when I clenched my eyes shut and passed out.

Perhaps the alcohol had been too much, or perhaps it was simply him. But when my eyes fluttered open to find the blindfold gone, I was resting atop a soft, silky bed, the room empty, the walls silent, my exhaustion so cumbersome that I smiled and fell asleep again.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE


You don’t know fear until you’ve traipsed through darkness. You don’t know desolation until you’ve been tossed to the wolves.



You don’t know pain until you’re shown just how disposable you are...



I never knew where those words had come from, those warnings, those whispers, during the three weeks that Vincent claimed me as his. I was learning that I should have listened to them. I was learning that I should have run.

“I’m going to need makeup for the bruises. Theresa keeps asking questions.”

Sitting in one of the leather seats that faced Vincent’s desk, I stared at the profile of his face as he read over paperwork. He didn’t bother to look up at me, instead holding up a finger to ask for another few moments of silence as he read over whatever document he was studying.