“Did you like that?” His palm cups my breast, kneading it, making it grow heavier and so unbearably sensitive.
I drag my teeth across my lower lip, but I can’t lie. It’s against the rules. More, I don’t want to. I am in thrall to this man, and every touch is like a gift. “Yes,” I say. “I liked it.”
“I told you there might be pain, but only to bring you pleasure.”
“I remember. I—I want more.”
“Nikki, oh, fuck, Nikki. Do you know what you do to me?”
“If it’s anything like what you do to me, I think I have some idea.”
His low laughter is raw, but dies when he closes his mouth on my breast. His teeth graze my nipple as he bites and sucks until my breast is nothing more than a live wire topped by a hard, thrumming pearl. And then his mouth is gone and there’s something cold and—“Oh!”—tight and hard.
My eyes flick open.
“No,” he says, and I close them again.
The initial stab of pain fades quickly, leaving a low, thick pressure. A tight awareness and an undercurrent of deep, flowing pleasure. A moment later, I feel that same sharp stab of exquisite pain on my other breast.
“Your nipples are so sensitive,” he whispers as his hand slips down to explore my sex. “Oh, yes,” he says. “This time I don’t think I have to ask if you like it.”
I don’t remember ever feeling so aware of my body. Even the air is erotic, its whisper touch making me quake.
I gasp as the pressure to both my breasts increases. Slightly at first and then with more force. He’s tugging on the chain that connects the two rings, pulling me up, the weight of my own body making the tug on my nipples even more exquisite. Not painful, but tight and aroused and ready.
“Damien.” His name is a demand and he answers by closing his mouth over mine. The kiss is hard and needful, and I thrust my tongue in his mouth, desperately trying to claim this moment. He matches me, but all too soon pulls away and then gently eases me back onto the bed. “Keep your eyes closed.”
I feel the soft caress of the leather as he trails the whip gently over my belly, then over my legs. I start to squirm, then freeze under his sharp command that I keep still.
Then it’s trailing between my legs. My muscles spasm in anticipation and then there it is—snap, a light spank on my vulva. I gasp. Never would I have thought I’d feel such exquisite pleasure from getting smacked in such an intimate place, but maybe it makes sense. I imagine Damien pounding into me, fucking me hard. Yeah, maybe it makes a lot of sense.
I wait, my body raw and open. Wanting and needing. But there is no second strike.
“Again,” I beg. “Damien, please.”
His moan of pleasure tells me everything—he’d been waiting to see if I liked this new play. And I do. So help me, I really do.
Once again the strips of leather land lightly against my sensitive skin. I arch up, my clit feels huge and swollen, and as he smacks me once more, I fear that if one of those straps lands directly on it I’ll explode from the combination of pleasure and pain.
“Damien,” I say, and that’s all it takes. The sensation changes, and it’s not the leather on my sex, but his mouth. His hands are on my thighs, and his tongue is inside me, and I can hear his low, hard moans. I’m close, so close, my hips twisting and bucking shamelessly against his face, the scrape of his beard stubble tickling my sensitive skin.