“I’m sorry. I am nervous. Excited. Wanting this. But very nervous.”
“Good girl. You have to be honest, baby. Every single time. You can’t bullshit with me or yourself. You’re done, you have to say so. It’s okay to be afraid. To say slow down, or stop for a minute and let me catch my breath. Talk it over. That you need reassurance. We’re partners in this. Use the traffic signals—red, yellow, green. We talked about that, remember?”
“You need this.”
“I’ll teach you to need it with me, if that’s your choice.” His heart practically stopped. It had to be her choice. Let her choose him. He didn’t deserve her, but let her choose him anyway. He was giving her an out again. He would every time.
“You’ve always been my choice. This is my choice, Savage. I’m not going into it with my eyes closed or with rose-colored glasses. I know what I’m getting into. I’m nervous, but I’m also excited. I mean that. I am.”
He had to take her at her word. He walked around her, slowly, anticipating, his cock nearly bursting with greedy lust while his heart was bursting with love for her. She lay on the dark-blue couch, looking like a sacrifice. Her hair was just as wild and untamed as the sea outside their home. Her skin was pale and unmarked, waiting for his expertise, the signs of his possession, the promise of her love for him.
He reached down and took her right wrist to guide it into the loop that was at the bottom edge of the couch and slipped her hand into it. She lay quietly while he wrapped her ankle with the leather loop, leaving her completely open to him.
“I can feast on you. It feels like far too long since I’ve had that opportunity.”
Savage leaned down and brushed kisses over her breast, his tongue swirling over her nipple, licking and then sucking at it. He fucking loved her tits. He loved her body. Her heart. Her soul. Everything about her. The fact that she lay spread-eagled for him and let him slip her ankles and wrists into restraints and never hesitated should have shocked him, but it didn’t. This was Seychelle.
There was that scent of hers, the heady, potent fragrance that was on her skin and in her hair. When he kissed her, he could taste the wild strawberry mixed with honey, so subtle, but it was there, right along with the fire in her mouth. He could kiss Seychelle for the rest of his life and never get tired. Never. He lifted his head and traced her lips with his. Breath to breath.
“I love you, baby. More than life. Thank you for having the courage to love me the way I am.”
Savage closed his teeth over her bottom lip, that temptation that drove him insane more than once during the day, and bit down slowly while his finger circled her clit and then flicked and thrummed, while another finger slid deep in and out of her. All the while, his eyes never left her blue ones. It was a fucking mind fuck to watch the way her pupils dilated and her breathing changed, going ragged, her hips rising to meet his finger, her channel so hot and slick and tight. He let go with his teeth and licked at the little wound. Kissed his way down her stubborn little chin and took another bite before standing up again.
“Savage.” She nearly wailed his name.
He smiled at her. She thought she was close now. Wanting release. He hadn’t even gotten started. “Have a little patience, baby. We’re taking things slow, remember?” She had to be ready. So hot. So needy. He had to take her up slow. Keep her on the edge.
He caught up the bottle of lotion he’d put on the floor beside the couch and poured some in his hand. “You like attention to your tits, and I don’t want to take any chances with clamps making you too sore, especially when the run is coming up and we may need to use those for our fun instead of anything else. I’m giving you something special here.”
He rubbed his palms over her nipples, coating them in the lotion. It would go on cool at first. Soothing even. The heat would start slow. Very slow. Then the lotion would begin to tighten her nipples, and as it did, the burn would begin. He knew it wouldn’t be too intense. The stuff was edible. Practically anything Preacher came up with for them to use was edible, but this lotion was extremely popular. Preacher was a genius when it came to making them sexual lubricants. He had a vivid, wicked imagination.
Savage stood then, towering over her. Very, very gently, he trailed the tails of the whip from her throat, over the curve of her tits, those gorgeous hard little nipples standing so erect for him, down the valley between her breasts and then along her belly. Her eyes followed him, those big blue eyes so adoring, and a little fearful. That added to the excitement. She looked beautiful. Her tits rising and falling rapidly, nipples hard little peaks. The leather falls trailed lower, to her bare mound, where he wanted to put his name someday.
His cock nearly went into a violent frenzy at the thought of it. He gave himself permission to enjoy the flood of near euphoria overwhelming his senses. It was the first time in years he could be who he really was, and the freedom was incredible. Insane. He was soaring. Flying high. He glanced toward the drawers by the windows, where he kept his whips. The real ones. Not today, he reminded himself. That would come another day. Hopefully, a long time from now, when she was ready. For now, he had this.
The gallery whip in his hand felt like a part of him, an extension of his body. Hot blood ran like volcanic lava through his veins at the thought of Seychelle and the pure canvas of her body. His hand tightened on the handle of the flogger. Already he could see the slick heat on her bare pussy lips for him. Waiting. Anticipating. He bent and licked at those hot little drops, relishing her taste. A shudder ran through her entire body, her hips jerking. She moaned.
“So good, baby. You look so beautiful.” He settled at the end of the couch, between her open legs. “This is why you’re stretched so wide for me. So I can do dirty, sinful things to you, like eat you alive.” He grinned at her as he trailed the leather falls lightly over her thighs and then dipped down to lick up her left thigh and stop just at that burning entrance. “But there is one little rule, Seychelle. You know how I am about those rules.”
“Savage.” Now there was a little demand in her voice.
“Tone, baby. You’re in a bad position to give me attitude. The rule is, you don’t get to make a sound. I give this to you, you take it quiet. You start makin’ noise, we stop.” He gave her another wicked grin. “Let’s see how quiet my woman can be.”
Seychelle was never quiet when it came to orgasms. Never. He wanted her on the edge. Desperate. So ready. He took one more look at what was his, and then he kissed his way to her bare pussy lips and began tormenting her. Devouring her. He used his tongue as a weapon, enjoying her taste, wanting to eat her morning, noon and night, reveling in the fact that she was his and he could.
His girl began making those little delicious noises that turned him on even more. Only his angel could make moans and kittenish mewls sound like music. They started off soft as her hips bucked and her pussy pressed tight against his mouth, and then she was thrashing wildly, and her voice began to rise, just as he’d known it would. He immediately lifted his head, wiping his face on her thighs, grinning wickedly as he met her eyes.
“Savage. No. You can’t stop.”
“Told you the rules, wild one. Can’t help it if you chose to be loud.”
“You set me up.”