With a wicked smile he stares down at me, “I’ll prepare for your punishment tonight.”
I can only smile back, so aware that it would be impossible not to keep the strawberry where it was while he did what he did to me. He can play these games, he can lead me wherever he deems fit, and I will follow loving every step of the way.
“I love you Carter Cross.”
“And I love you, my songbird.”
To experience Carter and Aria’s story from the beginning, read Merciless today!
A SINGLE NIGHT
A bonus scene from Jase & Bethany’s Irresistible Attraction Trilogy
CHAPTER 1
“Does it scare you?”
Does it scare me? Does the fire licking along my skin scare me?
Not like he scares me. It’s not a fear of who he is or what he could do to me. The fear is deeply rooted in the knowledge that I lose myself around him. That the background fades to blackness and all I can see is his masculine physique.
“No,” I dare to whisper. It’s so quiet in the vacant room, that all I can hear is the click and then the hiss of a tender flame that grows larger and then brighter, the lit candle coming to life.
Stripped down to nothing, lying against the leather, I wait for him with baited breath.
My skin is already sensitized, the edge of knife he used to shave down my body made sure of that. The blade glints from the simple steel cart behind him. Everything he needs for his fire play hides away in that drawer.
“Not like it did at first,” I admit a truth and the innocence of it doesn’t escape me.
With the candle in his right hand, his left caresses the pinkish skin of my waste. “Even if there was so little, it would singe,” he speaks as he trails his fingertips from the curve, up to my belly and then lower.
He prefers a knife to a razor and a candle for a flame. First he strips me, leaves me here in the chill of his absence, and then it begins.
As his fingers slip lower, past my belly and even farther still, his satisfied groan disrupts the heavy breathing that’s lingered between us. “Already wanting me,” he comments as the tip of his blunt nails slip down my most sensitive nub.
“Part of me wants to be selfish.” His tone is even, deep and with the soothing cadence that calms me. His thumb slowly, teasingly, spreads me and then moves back to that most sensitive place, where he spreads my arousal. The spike of heat and want stir in the pit of my stomach, the desire escaping me in a gasp that parts my lips. “Part of me,” he continues as he reaches for the ethanol, “doesn’t even want to play tonight.”
My voice is strained and it takes great effort to open my eyes and meet his soft gaze. I swear the vulnerability that shines in the bright light of the flame wasn’t there days ago. It echoes back to me now, making my throat dry as I remind him, “Whatever it is, the clock is running.”
Wherever the alcohol is placed, the flame will dance. The fuel of it, the trail placed on my skin, dries so quickly, licked clean by the bright light, that it’s only a flash. Only a moment of the heat that threatens to burn.
The air between us thickens and the flame drops and the bead of wax drips slightly. Gripping the table harder, my back arches and the sudden heat is met with my moan.
“You’re … needy, wanting...” Parting my closed I catch sight at his tongue darting across his lower lip. “Tempting… I imagine I could blow, and you’d reach your limit, wouldn’t you?”
As he walks to the end of the table, letting the wax melt as he goes, allowing it to drip carelessly, recklessly down my already sensitive skin I wonder if he’ll do it. I wonder if it’s all too much for him like it is for me and he’ll take me now like my body begs.
I don’t know at what point the need changed, but it’s as if it’s all different now. At least in this moment. Locked in this barren room for him to do as he wishes to me. I don’t know when it happened… but everything has changed.
“Tell me what you want?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my inner thigh, his warm breath giving me just enough, to stop the chill of goosebumps from taking over. With no heat, not a single bit of it, my body aches for the void to be filled.
The flame and the wax aren’t enough.
With a single low breath, he blows against my core and then higher. My lips stay parted and I’m fully aware my expression gives it all away. The arch of my back as the tenderness of a burning need sends me higher.
“I need an answer,” he murmurs his left hand gripping my right thigh and as he holds me still, dripping the wax at the same time that a languid lick sends my orgasm over the edge.
“You,” the word is begging, desperate even, as it’s torn from me.
The spike of my release has barely waned before he’s ripped me from where I lay and positioned me, a fist of my hair at the base of my neck, the candle recklessly dropping to the floor.
He enters me without warning, swift and ripping a strangled moan from my throat. I don’t recognize myself or my own voice as he takes me, my back to his chest. The fingers of his other hand gripping my hips and the relentless thrusts deepened by my hips pinned to the table. With no place to go, I’m his to ravage and that’s exactly what he does. My nipples pebble, the cool air no match for his skin scorching my back.
He’s rough … but only for so long. Only until I’m limp, the pleasure rocking through me, taking from me, draining my strength to do anything but call out his name in mercy as my body sags against the warm leather.
….
With his lips trailing down my neck, he parts them ever so slightly, and a trail of goosebumps linger where his gentle touch has been. The intensity of such a gentleness, brings the onslaught of my climax higher and my back arches as he finds his release. His rough groan of utter satisfaction is accompanied with a final thrust that he holds deep inside of me, forcing even more from me, more than I can handle. My nails dig in his corded forearms, in a weak attempt to stay grounded as we both fall from the highest high and my orgasm crashes around me, like the burning rubble of a fixture engulfed in blistering flames.
My chest rises and falls recklessly with my heavy breath as reality slips back. The table groans as he readjusts, and I expect him to leave me, and for the chill to settle in. Instead he braces himself on his forearms and places a kiss just beneath the tender spot beneath my ear. He whispers, “Bethany,” softly and with a delicate cadence that brings the goosebumps back, beginning where the word was breathed and slowly trailing down every inch of my sensitized skin.
Even though there are moments I despise his entire being and the part he’s played in my pain and other moments where the intensity of what he could do to me and what I’m all too aware he’s done in the past chill me to my core, I can’t deny there’s a tenderness now. There’s a scorched section of my twisted heart that has been scarred and branded. Not from his harshness, no, he scarred me with this side of him, the side that brings out a pain and longing I’ve never felt before.
I find my lips parting with my gaze caught in his and I whisper with the same reverence his just held, “Jase.”
Until the debt is paid, I am his.