Savage gathered her hair in his hand and pulled her head up, needing to see her eyes. They were beautiful, liquid with tears. His tears. He took them, drinking them down, grateful to whoever had given her to him. Her eyes were soft with remorse yet filled with determination. She wanted to do this. He kissed her. He shouldn’t, but he was proud of her courage, and they made their own rules.
“Why can’t you go near Brandon, Seychelle?” he asked, gently letting her head down. He put his hand on her nape and let it drift down her back as he once more positioned himself in the best line to punish her.
“Every time he hears me use my voice to counter his, it’s possible he can find a way to use that against me in the same way I can stop him from using his voice,” she admitted with great reluctance.
His breath caught in his throat, and fear swirled in his gut. He knew the little bastard was dangerous to Seychelle, but only because he was a vengeful little worm and he would be plotting to get her back in some way. Savage hadn’t known, hadn’t even considered, that the man might be able to use Seychelle’s voice against her in some way.
She knew that, and yet she’d deliberately used her voice in front of him to counter his commands to Doris and to Tessa. Twice. It was no wonder Campbell was after her. And somehow the little bastard had a connection to the Diamondbacks.
Savage took several deep breaths. He wasn’t going to chance being out of control when he punished her, especially when she was being so brave and working her way into his world. “You deserve a hell of a lot of punishment for not informing me of the scope of danger he represented to you, but also for disobeying and talking to him.”
“I know, Savage, I’m sorry. I really am.” She sounded very sincere.
“I’m going to give you ten strikes with the cane, Seychelle. You aren’t going to be very comfortable on our date tonight, but you earned every one of these. If you can’t take it, what do you say?”
“You said I couldn’t stop a punishment, Savage.”
“Not when you aren’t used to a cane, baby. I’m training you as I punish you. What’s the word to stop this if you can’t take it?”
“Red.”
“You say it if it’s too much. Don’t hold out to please me.”
“I’ll say it.” Her voice was small. Too small. She sounded scared.
“And remember the rules. No screaming. You cry all you want, but no screaming. You only do that when you’re climaxing.” He ran his palm down her spine gently, just to give her courage. His woman. Giving her that connection. “Don’t tense up. Let the pain take you. Give into it. Surrender to it.”
The cane whistled as he put a fraction more force into it, the sound a kind of music all on its own. The round rattan-filled stick slashed across her perfect bottom, leaving another much tighter line. The second and third followed immediately, almost right on top, before she could even register the fiery agony the cane could produce.
Seychelle’s left leg kicked up, but she pressed her toes back to the floor of the porch, her sobs softer than they had been with the warm-up round he’d given her.
“You’re doing so good, baby.” He pressed two fingers into her tight, slick heat and fucked her for a moment while his thumb stroked her clit. Pulling his fingers out, he licked them clean. “You taste so damn good.”
Three more strikes fell in rapid succession. He laid them out, descending toward the bottom of her round cheeks. Each should have been a little harder, but he kept them the same. The cane was one of his shortest and easily controlled, but he knew that even though he was using a lighter stroke, it burned like hell. The seventh strike had the most force so far, and he landed it just under her buttocks. She cried out and instantly jammed her fist in her mouth to muffle the sound.
“Good girl,” he praised her. He didn’t wait. Eight and nine landed up high on the back of her thighs. Ten was right across her sit spot again, the hardest yet.
He dropped the cane and used both hands to rub the dark, angry marks. They were incredibly arousing to him.
“Savage.” There was an ache in her voice, even as she was crying. “I need …” She broke off.
He waited, but she didn’t say it. She didn’t ask him. He crouched down to use his mouth, catching the wild taste of strawberry honey that belonged to him. “You’re so fucking wet, baby. You need me, don’t you?” He sucked at her clit and then flicked at it with his tongue. “So needy. You loved the cane. Now you need my cock, don’t you?”
Her breath hitched. She pushed her dripping pussy into his face. Her bottom was blazing hot. Striped for him. “Please, Savage. You have to …” She broke off again, another sob interrupting. “I know not with a punishment, but …”
He stood again, stroking his aching cock. He was so full he was afraid he might burst just looking at her bent over the rail, her fiery bottom presented to him. “Tell me what you need, baby. Anything. I’ll give it to you.”
“Savage.” Breathy. A plea. A little sob.
He hated waiting. He lodged the broad head of his cock into the tight slick opening but refused to move. She had to be the one. He couldn’t take it further. She had to ask him. He was losing his mind, but the taking would be all the sweeter. He knew that. He rubbed those stripes, the ones darkening by the moment. Ran his fingernails over them even as he rocked his body gently.
“You have to fuck me. I can’t stand it.” The plea came out in a little rush. “Hard, Savage. You have to fuck me hard.”
He caught her hips and drove into her just the way she asked him to, burying himself to the hilt. He was a big man and strong. Her silken sheath reluctantly gave way, seizing his cock, the friction so good he threw back his head and roared as he took her, his body hammering into hers over and over. That scorching-hot fist of silk twisted around his cock, grasping at him, a merciless vise that sent jolts of lightning up his spine.
Her breath came out in little raspy cries that tore at his heart when his body was going up in flames. She was burning him from the inside out, not just his cock but every fucking organ he had, including his heart and soul. She lit them on fire, detonated them, so they blew apart like bombs, scattering pieces of him everywhere.
Looking at the stripes his cane had put on her made him hard as fucking titanium, but she melted him inside. Turned him into some kind of melting pussy instead of the sadistic asshole he knew he was. He bent his head before he could stop himself and pressed kisses down her spine while her scorching sheath drummed with her heartbeat, surrounding his cock with a ring of pure fire.
“Baby.” He breathed against her striped skin. “I love you. Fucking love you so damn much.”
It was heaven and hell to see those dark purple lines across her cheeks. His cock was a fierce piston that drove into her like a relentless, powerful machine. Every slap of their bodies coming together only incited him more. That rush. The euphoria. The feeling of absolute control and dominance. He fisted her hair and pulled her head back, forcing her to arch her back while he worked her body.
She came on his cock over and over, crying out. Calling his name. Her body desperately trying to steal the seed from his. He forced control on himself, not wanting to leave the paradise that was her body, not when he had this. But then the tsunami struck, overtaking her in a series of powerful waves so that her sheath clamped down like a vise, strangling his cock, ecstasy and hell, forcing ropes of semen from him. Long, jerking pulses that rocked him, that sent shock waves through him, flinging him to that place only she could take him.