Page 77 of Carved Obsession

“Grind on my cock like that, kitten, and you’ll learn just how far off from punishment this is.” I break the kiss, licking the raindrops off her lips between every other word.

“I think you’re all talk, killer-boy. A pretty mouth that spills sweet promises it can’t deliver.”

My body stills, muscles straining under the wet clothes, yet my cock hardens even more than I thought possible at the blatant challenge. The gall of this woman. The women Iplaywith would never. The cane would meet their ass, their thighs.

But Scarlet is not a woman I play with. She doesn’t know the rules. If she ever finds herself strapped to one of my benches, I’m afraid the rules will go out the window and a line I’ve never crossed will turn to ash.

What if, though . . .

I release her wrist, drawing my palm down to her ribs, thumb dangerously close to her breast.

“You’re making one dire mistake,” I say, grinding my cock against her pussy.

A strained moan escapes her, taking control as she rolls her hips, seeking more pleasure. I oblige, pressing my aching hardness onto her, pumping my hips as she feeds off of this chaste pleasure.

“Punishment is not bred only of agony, kitten.” I dip in, gently scraping my teeth over the crook of her neck, licking my way to the sensitive spot behind her ear before I bite and suck as she shudders in bliss. “Sometimes, it’s born of the deprivation of pleasure.”

I drop Scarlet back on her feet and peel myself away from her awfully inviting body.

Even in this faint moonlight, I can see the heavy raindrops slipping through the angry crease formed between her brows, dropping off of her parted lips as she regards me in utter outrage.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” she murmurs.

“Come on now. We need to find the cabin.”

I don’t even bother to acknowledge her shock, no matter how hard my cock is or how twitchy my fingers are to find that soft, warm spot between her thighs.

“Don’t you fucking walk away from me, Carter Pierce!” she yells, then grabs my wrist, yanking me backward. Or attempting to.

I halt and look over my shoulder. “Don’t be a brat, Scarlet.”

“I’m not a damn brat! I just can’t believe you just—” She’s smoldering so beautifully. “Finish what you started, killer-boy.”

“You’re not used to being denied what you want, are you? Grew up a bit too spoiled, kitten?”

She stops dead in her tracks, tightening her grip until my wrist bone screams at me in a heated ache and she rips her hand away. The outrage is completely wiped off of her features as she fixes me with an irritated, fiery gaze.

“Don’t you dare speak of my upbringing like you know anything about it.” She’s seething, her entire stance tensing with words clearly heavy with more than just memories.

Frowning, I cock my head, studying her demeanor and reaction. She’s not just upset—she looks almost haunted by fresh ghosts of her past—and the need to figure her out grows to a dangerous level. Something happened to her.

Embers sizzle behind my ribs, and an aching hollowness strains in the pit of my stomach. As I try to decipher those odd sensations, another more disturbing involuntary reaction follows—a threatening rumble, deep in my chest. Close to the same spot where Scarlet’s essence seems to be settling in.

What the fuck was that?

I’m fighting the urge to trap her, peel off all those layers, and find out what happened to her and who hurt her. My thoughts are interrupted by her shadow flying past me.

“You coming?” she all but growls, already a few steps ahead.

“You’re going the wrong way,” I call out, proceeding to walk in the right direction.

I hear her follow, but I don’t turn. As much as the bratty behavior intrigues me, I’m fucking soaked, caked in mud, and cold. And we’re just over halfway to the cabin. It better have a damn roof.

Scarlet pops up next to me, falling into step. I glance down at where my jacket is tied around her waist, but in this lack of light, it’s impossible to tell how much blood soaks it. We need to get to that cabin as soon as possible. Though a fucking hospital would have been better.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” Her answer is clipped. Cold.