“Maybe we need to see how it makes you feel. Let’s ask your little pussy.” His hand dropped to the buttons of her jeans. He opened them and then slid the denim off her hips, down her legs to her ankles. He waited for her to step out of them. She hadn’t worn panties because he told her not to in the text he’d sent. His hand slipped between her legs. Heat poured off her. His palm found slick honey.
“Your pussy says it’s good.”
Keeping one hand tight over her slit, his thumb flicking her clit, he flicked the chain of tiny spheres again in time to his thumb, his gaze on her face. Her eyes. She couldn’t look away. Couldn’t close her eyes. Another shudder went through her. Her breath hissed out again. A low moan escaped her throat. Hot liquid spilled like tears into his palm. He gave her a wicked smile and brought his hand up for her to see the evidence.
“Good for certain, baby.” He licked at the spice on his palm, loving her taste. He loved everything about her. Every single thing.
He attached a fairly long chain that went from one nipple to the other. “My leash. I love to be connected to you. Do you feel our connection, baby? Do you feel how close I am to you right now?”
She didn’t know it, but when he was at his absolute worst, when the demons rode him so hard and he needed to do this to her, to see that she would stick with him, give him everything he needed to get him through, that was when he truly felt closest to her. He felt his love for her overwhelming him.
She nodded her head. “Yes.”
Her voice, so soft. He loved that voice of hers. Acceptance. She didn’t loathe him the way he sometimes could loathe himself. That wasn’t now. Now, when she was giving himself permission to be himself, euphoria was beginning to sweep through him.
Savage tugged until she stepped toward him. He sank down on the table and indicated for her to climb onto the bench and then onto the table beside him. “Want you up here, Seychelle. Kneel up right next to me.”
Seychelle obeyed, facing him. The moonlight spilled over her, and she looked beautiful, with her breasts clamped and the chain hanging low, long enough to touch her bare mound. He couldn’t help brushing that pale space with the pads of his fingers, wanting someday to see his name there permanently.
“I’m going to do some things that will make you wild and probably afraid, but you’ll come hard, I promise. I’ll make certain to take care of you. Are you still with me? Can you do this?” Always, always, he had to check with her, know it was her choice. Hear her confirm it. Know she was all right.
“I love you, Savage. If this is what you really need, then I can do it. I want to do it.”
“I need it, or I wouldn’t ask. You know that.”
Her face relaxed into that tender, sweet love that made him want to melt at her feet. Made him wish he had his whip with him and that she would give him permission to use it any damn place he wanted to use it. Made him almost wish he weren’t so fucked up.
“Lay across my lap.”
She swallowed hard, but she did as he said, groaning as the little weighted balls tugged on her nipples and fire flared through her body. That long, fine chain slithered down as well, pulling on her breasts, adding to the weight. He rubbed her bare bottom and then delivered several very hard slaps, leaving dark red handprints on both cheeks. He pushed his fingers into her slick entrance, collecting the thick liquid.
“Naughty girl. You like those clamps far too much. I don’t think you get to protest again. Or is it the combination of the clamps and the hard spanking?”
But there was so much more he needed. Her body was pristine. A canvas. The rage was too deep. The darkness consuming him. He was drowning, and she was his only lifeline. Did she know that? He was just warming up. He needed so much more to bleed off the rage to get through the fucking night and rest of tomorrow so he could make it home. He needed the sanctity of their home, where he had no restrictions. Where he could just fucking breathe.
He took his time opening the small jar of oil Preacher had prepared for him. “This is a little surprise, baby. You’re going to love it.”
He dipped two fingers in the jar and began to paint her clit, circling and then painting until the little hood and the hard bud were coated. He went back, dipping his fingers and then applying it to her bare lips and sliding them inside her entrance, curling them deep, over and over, pushing more and more of the oil inside her until he was certain he’d gotten enough. His fingers returned, and this time he began sliding the oil between her cheeks. He could see the oil glistening from the dancing flames in the firepit. He added more and more and then pressed into that forbidden star. She moaned and writhed, but he slammed his palm hard on her cheeks until she settled. He pushed his fingers deeper, opening her, and then added more of the oil.
“That’s going to make you feel so good in a few minutes, Seychelle. I told you I’d think of special things we could do together. You’re going to need my cock like you’ve never needed it before.”
He could see the oil was already beginning to do its job. It had hints of ginger in it. He hadn’t wanted to start her off with ginger right away, but he’d asked Preacher to create something that would set her body on fire for him. Something that would heat up with every movement of her body. He spent a few more minutes spanking her, enjoying the way she writhed and cried, panting and pleading with him.
Savage let up and indicated for her to crawl off the table, moving with her, controlling her actions with the chain leading to the clamps. Every movement sent fire through her ass and over her clit. Her nipples were on fire. By now the oil and the spanking had her desperate for his cock.
With Seychelle kneeling at his feet, he found his beer on the table and deliberately took a long, slow drink. “You want my cock, baby?”
“Yes.” She nodded.
“How bad?”
“Need. I need it.”
“There’s a switch over there on the other side of that tree. You can get it and ask me to use it on you. You ask nice and I’ll do it, and then you can have my cock.” He folded his arms across his chest, the action drawing the chain up, forcing her breasts up as well.
She cried out, her breath catching as the clover clamps bit down viciously. “Savage …”
The soft quiver in her voice was an aphrodisiac. Was everything he needed. The liquid glittering like diamonds on her lashes were all his. He jerked his chin toward the spot where he’d left the switch, hoping like hell she’d remember the two little scenarios she’d told him that had turned her on when she’d watched porn. He had re-created them for her, putting his own spin on them.
Her eyes were on his. He could see the blue darkening even more with lust. With need. Yeah, she remembered. Her body was already burning for his. He hadn’t done the things he needed, not yet, but hot blood rushed through his veins at the sight of her kneeling, her round breasts covered in the marks of his hands and teeth, her nipples clamped with those little weights swinging merrily if she dared to move or he tugged on the chain. Her skin was flushed, lungs desperate for air as she panted raggedly, fighting the burning hunger between her legs. He’d known she’d be sensitive to the oil.
She didn’t stand, she simply nodded, her tongue touching her lower lip so that it glistened temptingly, and then turned and began to crawl toward the larger tree that was behind them. It was at the very edge of reach of the firepit, where the light from the flames could reach, but he’d set a low gas-fed lantern in the branches.