But he’d gotten an invite to this soiree by pretending to be a hardcore sadist. The kind of guy who didn’t get off on fun warm-ups or gentle lead-ins. The kind of guy who took a quality dragon’s tail and made sure his submissive knew how he’d be using it.
His fingers tightened around the wrapped leather handle. Every second he hesitated meant a tiny slip of credibility. He’d briefed Sage on what was to come. She was expecting this. And maybe, judging by the peeks he got at the shiny, wet layers between her thighs, she was even looking forward to it. And damn, damn, how he’d love to see her perfect round buttocks marked by a stroke he’d given her…a brand he alone had burned into her…
Thwack.
He let out a heavy breath, hardly believing he’d done it.
Hardly believing it had felt so incredible.
Hardly believing that Sage’s long moan would double the pressure in his balls—and the lust that claimed everything south of his beltline.
Thwack.
He curled the tapered suede around again, marking her a little lower and a little harder. This time, a brilliant red streak rose along her skin. The next instant, he gave the welt an identical twin, aiming for the spot where her darling heart of an ass started tapering into her waist. With every measured lash, he made sure to watch for the safety sign from her right hand, but the fingers there were nowhere near a scout’s oath. Sage had the digits folded around the edge of her wrist cuff, kneading the leather in time to the breaths that came in giant swooshes through her nose. Her left hand did the same to its own bond.
He ran a fast visual on the edges of all her beautiful fingers. They all had good color and were ambulating fine. Thank Christ, because he sure as hell didn’t want to stop. To see what he did to her, turning her into this writhing, surrendering creature he was preparing for his pleasure alone, pulled out a mate from the most primitive parts of his own soul, his own body, the very beat of his heart and throbs in his cock.
He elbowed the sweat off his face, sucked in a couple of breaths, and let the animal step out a few steps more.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
Sage screamed past the gag this time, the succession of blows meaning a higher concentration of pain to process. His little audience actually looked ready to clap in approval, until he stopped the morons with a glare. In the opposite corner, King emitted a hum of approval. Garrett forced back his frustration. He hated that he and Sage had to do this here, now. He hated that they hadn’t had a fucking word of foreplay or negotiation, that this crucial, beautiful new step for them was being used as a distraction tactic for a goddamn rescue mission, and—
The words halted his little morosity session.
Rescue mission.
If he didn’t do this, he wasn’t walking out of here with her.
He had to phase King and his shitheads out and tie his concentration to one person alone. The only person in this room who mattered. The only person in his world who mattered.
That meant laying into her with another trio of lashes.
Sage let out another high keen, bucking against her bondage. Garrett was sure he’d be sending up a thousand prayers for redemption, because the sight made him harder than a stallion on steroids. His pulse pounded with lust, and his cock wept with precome. The swells of his woman’s ass were crisscrossed with red ribbons, like a present he longed to rip open. He had just the right tool with which to do that…
No. Not yet.
As deeply as he longed to throw down the slapper, step to her, unzip, and aim for nirvana, Garrett still felt the weight of King’s assessment. He was supposed to be a moneybags pervert who got off on pain as much as sex. He had to push the act one step harder.
Forcing himself to flick a cocky grin at King, he slid the dragon tail back onto its shelf before pulling out a new pair of play toys. The first, a mini slapper with diamond-shaped holes, got tucked into his pocket. The second was a leather mitt that fit snug around his big hand. He lifted it into the light, watching the entire front surface of the mitt twinkle thanks to the tiny steel tacks embedded into the leather. King let out another commending hum, but Garrett ignored the ass this time, afraid he’d ram the thing into the man’s ugly face.
All that mattered was Sage—who had, unbelievably, gotten five times more gorgeous in the last thirty seconds.
He had no idea how he was going to keep his cock confined for another second, let alone the long minutes it’d take to complete this act of pleasure and pain. The damn thing was now painful cargo between his thighs and got worse with every step he took back to where Sage waited in trembling silence.
Her body was so golden.
Her ass was so red.
Her surrender was so beautiful.
There was no way he could keep his mouth off her—but a gentle kiss on the nape wasn’t going to fly in the believability department. Sweet and soft wasn’t where his instinct yearned to be, anyhow. He gave in to the primal roar that commanded him instead, sweeping her hair off one shoulder in order to sink his teeth into it. Sage gave him a shuddering groan in return, a sound he felt as much as heard. It spurred him to give her another bite, higher on her shoulder and harder into her skin, in the moment before he dragged the tack-lined glove down the middle of her back.
She started to unravel.
And, as she did, was fucking spectacular.
After another long groan from deep in her throat, she arched her head back, making her body smash against the cross. Her shoulders heaved as she pulled in air by raw, desperate spurts. Her arms coiled, twisting the wrist bonds one way and the next. Her profile was awash in bittersweet tension, her eyes closed and her lips wrapped around the bit, soaking the leather as she worked to keep herself halfway composed for him.
Garrett barely held back from crushing his lips on her again. He yearned to taste her, suckle on her, murmur his deep and adoring praise to her. Amazement rode that same tidal wave of reaction. How could it be that here, now, in the deepest throes of her submission, she’d never been more breathtaking to him…or claimed his love with more powerful force? He didn’t bother figuring it out. He was too busy fighting the longing to hold her, enfold her, bury himself inside her until they both couldn’t see straight or talk right…
Damn it, he had to stay focused.
He had to remember what the fuck he was doing here. Why the fuck he was doing it.
He had to play the sadist with her—in order to save her.
Give me just a few minutes more of courage, sugar, and I’ll make it all worth it. I promise.
With a determined sweep of movement, he shifted to stand behind her again. He rotated his hand, assuring that the mitt would cover more skin, before dragging the spikes up the length of Sage’s spine.
The guards oohed and aahed in approval. Sage hissed and twisted, but when there were no raised fingers from her right hand, he pressed in a little harder and stroked the mitt back down. The furrows on Sage’s back began to bloom bright red. He hadn’t broken the skin but had come hideously close—though that wasn’t the factor causing Garrett the most perplexity here. It was the woman beneath the marks. Where Sage had seemed to just tolerate the lashes with the dragon’s tail, this treatment clearly tripped a different switch in her. She didn’t just moan. She keened and begged with need. She didn’t just shiver. She thrashed against her tethers, her body like a stripped electric wire searching for a puddle to plunge into. For a second, Garrett even thought she—
No.
She didn’t really enjoy this, did she?
He tested the theory by plowing some fresh welts from her waist to nape.
Sage didn’t let out a shriek of reaction.