He coiled the whip, tossed it onto the small table and picked up the second, shorter one. His heart accelerated. His cock jerked in anticipation as he stepped close to her, one hand sliding down her belly to find her needy clit, his thumb and fingers moving in time to the wild beat of the music, in time to the hot blood rushing through his veins like jagged lightning.
“That was just a warm-up, baby. This is the start. Are you ready for more?” His fingers continued to circle her clit, flicking the hard little bud and then curling into her slick entrance, stroking deep until she was riding him helplessly, moaning continuously. “Do you want more?” He whispered the temptation. “Do you need it?”
His tongue licked at her tit, the idea of using the whip putting his cock into a frenzy of need. He wanted her mouth on him. She’d never once gone there. He’d never demanded that of her.
“Yes,” she managed.
“That’s not good enough, Seychelle.”
“Please, more, Savage,” she choked out, her hips trying to press down onto his fingers.
“That’s my girl.” He took his hand away, bringing his fingers to her mouth. “Lick me clean.” His voice roughened with demand, a rasp of steel.
She did exactly what he ordered, her eyes on his. He watched, his blood roaring through his veins. Pounding. Fuck, she was beautiful. Perfect. Made for him.
Very slowly, he brought the new whip into her sight, shaking it out so she could see it, and watched the dilation of her eyes. He didn’t blame her for the fear that rolled off her in waves. The whip had a bit of an evil appearance, with the three red long tips that looked like long, wicked Harpy talons coming off those thin, black braided falls. They were evil and wicked in the right hands, and he was a master of pain. He was the Whip Master. This particular whip was shorter in length, only thirty-nine inches. The handle was flexible, giving him so much control.
He dangled the black-and-red whip in front of her and then slid the falls over the curves of her breasts, lower until those red talons met her mound. He was grateful that he’d shaved her and there was nothing marring his vision of the thin red and black braids against her bare skin. He enjoyed the contrast between the stark colors of the whip and her pristine skin. He hadn’t left any real marks with the bullwhip, but he would with this one, and the idea of it was exciting.
Savage was capable of delivering wicked blows. He’d trained for years. He knew exactly what he was doing. Few could wield crops, floggers or any other type of pain-giving weapon as he could. He knew exactly how to deliver the most pain possible when he needed—or when he wanted—to do it. He was breathing hard, and his cock was filling with scorching-hot blood, a demon rising, fighting for control. Now he could feel his heart beating right through his cock.
Seychelle took a deep breath as Savage stepped back. Where before there was little expression, now those lines in his tough features were carved deep, a mixture both sensual and cruel. He studied her body as if she was his toy, his possession. This was the sadist wholly engaged, fully functioning, a cruel, sensual being intent on his own pleasure. He was fascinating and, she had to admit, hot as hell. She was in such a heightened state of sexual arousal, her body desperate for his, all she could think about was getting his cock in her.
Seychelle couldn’t take her eyes off him. The whip seemed an extension of him. He was all flowing muscle, scars and burns, arrogance and dominant power, but it was more than that, so much more. The moment he stepped back, everything about him changed. She was seeing a side of him she’d never seen before. This was the part of him he called the sadistic monster, the one he’d been afraid for her to meet. This one truly enjoyed inflicting pain on his woman. There was no conflict on his face. He wasn’t afraid now. He wanted her to meet him—or he didn’t care.
He snapped his wrist without warning, and the black tail snaked out fast, those three red talons seeking a target, striking the top curves over her breasts, but two of them, the very tips hitting her nipples. For a moment, Seychelle felt nothing at all, and then the shocking burn was like being branded with a live flame held to her skin so that it traveled deep beneath.
She clamped her lips together tightly, but tears instantly formed in her eyes, blurring her vision. Her entire body shuddered. Her knees turned to jelly. She couldn’t do this. Nothing had ever hurt like this. Nothing. At the same time, a wave of fire burst through her core until her sex clenched and blood pounded in a dark, demonic response in her feminine channel.
The evil whip struck along the side of the curve of her right breast, two of those wicked talons once again striking her nipple. She came up on her toes, shaking her head, her breath exploding out of her lungs. Her nipples peaked. She felt them. It was sick how her body reacted, the way the flames spread like a wildfire straight to her sex. Her nipples and breasts were so sensitive to a mix of pain and pleasure, but this was too extreme.
Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. Seychelle couldn’t catch her breath. Just watching him through the tears pouring down her face, seeing him, that expression of sensual cruelty, of total concentration, of pure sexual lust, added to the arousing need coiling so tightly, like a terrible fist deep inside her. At the same time, those terrible red talons were evil claws, just waiting to slash into her skin.
Savage stepped into her, the flexible handle of the whip finding her slick heat unerringly while his fingers traced the bright red welts over her right breast and then to the side. “You have to stay very, very still, Seychelle, for these next two lashes. You’ll do that for me, won’t you, baby?”
He lapped at her inflamed nipple with his tongue, soothing the terrible pain, then sucking it into the heat of his mouth. At the same time, he pushed the thick braid of leather into her and rubbed the abrasive knot over her clit. She nearly cried out, but at the last moment was able to clamp her lips together, even though the tears continued to flow.
He pulled back from her breast. “You’ll stay very still, won’t you? This is very precise work, and I don’t want it to look sloppy on your gorgeous tits. You loved the way it looked on the mannequin, so I chose the pattern just for you.”
He sounded like he was giving her such a gift. She wished he hadn’t stopped. The night air was even colder. The music sounded more ferocious, as did the pounding waves. Savage’s eyes had gone so arctic blue, so ice-cold and remote, but filled with a lust that bordered on animalistic.
The whip he held up gleamed in the moonlight with liquid from her, and his smile was cruel as he licked the leather, those eyes watching her as he stepped back. He was clearly waiting for her answer. She forced herself to nod, giving him what he wanted, when he had the evidence that she was so needy. There was no hiding it from him.
He struck fast, just a flick of his wrist, two flicks, and those three talons struck once, then again. The first strike laid lines under her right breast, with the tips so painful on her generous flesh, one striking precisely on her wet, inflamed nipple. The second strike somehow landed on the inside, between her breasts, those tips striking the sensitive mound, completing the cup of the bralette, and one of those tips hit her nipple again. The sting was so painful she would have gone to her knees if she wasn’t tied.
She opened her mouth to call yellow, but he had coiled the whip and sauntered around behind her. When he did, he trailed his fingers along the nape of her neck.