Page 28 of Redemption (Favorite Malady Duet #2)

With every pounding step, the bells sway on the cord between the silver clamps.

The weight of them tugs at my trapped nipples as my breasts bounce.

My blood runs hotter in my veins, and it’s not just from the exertion of evading him.

The torment to my nipples is unbearably erotic, and my inner thighs are wet with my arousal.

My swollen labia throb with every stride, and I’m achingly aware of how empty I am without his cock filling me up.

“Abigail!” He roars my name from the center of the maze, and I know I’m out of time.

I duck down an opening to my right, winding my way deeper into the maze. I take turn after sharp turn, until I’m dizzy and my breath burns my lungs. He can clearly hear the jingling of the traitorous bells, but I think my path has been erratic enough to confuse him.

For a while, at least.

I slow down and struggle to breathe as shallowly as possible so that the bells won’t jangle. My steps are light and careful, and I manage to take another turn without making a sound.

I’m not sure how long I manage to keep quiet before he calls out for me again.

“I know you’re nearby, Abigail. Such a clever little pet. You’re lost, but I’ll find you.”

He says the last like a mercy.

His voice is far too close. I have no choice: I have to start running again.

He barks a laugh when the bells chime, and a mix of defiant rage and desire heats my flushed cheeks.

His arrogance is galling, but my body craves him.

I deny my base, carnal needs and increase my speed, rounding another corner. Seconds later, I cry out before I can stop myself.

I’ve hit a dead end. And I can hear his heavy footfalls pounding closer.

I whirl, and his massive, shadowy form is barreling towards me, cutting off my exit. I scramble back, but I collide with the hedge. Branches prickle my bare skin, scratching my sensitized flesh like a sharp caress.

He slows as he closes in, and his white teeth flash in a feral smile through the darkness.

“Little dove,” he coos. “Are you trapped?”

“Don’t touch me,” I snap, pressing myself deeper into the hedge.

“Poor little pet. All alone out here. So lost and afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” I lie. Fear thrills through me in a tingling wave, setting all of my senses on high alert.

“You don’t have to pretend with me.” He says it like a reassurance that’s belied by his mocking tone.

He’s right in front of me, his massive body blocking any hope of escape.

“You seem to be caught in a snare. Let me help you.”

He moves lighting fast, grasping my shoulders and tearing me away from the hedge. He tackles me to the ground, angling us so that his body takes the impact.

Then he rolls atop me, forcing me onto my front. The clamps bite into my nipples. With my hands bound behind me, there’s nothing I can do but kick and scream.

My defiant shriek dies in my throat when I catch the glint of the blade out of the corner of my eye.

“Dane!” True, potent terror claws at my insides.

I crane my neck back so that I can keep the wickedly sharp hunting knife in my line of sight.

The last time he held a blade to my throat, he was the masked man. He terrorized me and violated me.

He’s wearing a different skull mask now. The image of my alluring demon morphs into a horrific, macabre memory.

He strokes the length of my spine with his free hand and shushes me gently. The knife is nowhere near my skin; he’s holding it at least two feet away from me, and it’s pointed outward, not toward me.

“I took this fantasy from you,” he rumbles. “I want to give it back.”

My chest convulses on a shuddering breath. Terror still rides me hard, but his words touch something deep inside me.

He wants my consent. I could stop him right now if I wanted to.

But I don’t speak. I don’t use my safe word.

I want to take ownership of this fantasy, too.

I close my eyes briefly and breathe through the worst of the clawing horror, until it subsides into fizzy, thrilling fear once again. I allow myself to sink into the giddy sensation, like I’m riding a rollercoaster.

I’m safe with Dane.

“Good girl,” he praises. “So brave for me.”

My eyes flutter open, and the blade glints in the moonlight as he slowly moves it closer to my body. When I don’t scream or cringe away, he grasps my wrists with his other hand. The rope tugs slightly as he slips the knife through the knot.

I go utterly still.

“Be careful, little dove,” he warns gently. “I don’t want to accidentally clip your wings.”

The blade slices upward, away from my body. The rope falls from my wrists, but I don’t dare to move. I’m hardly breathing, and I’m becoming lightheaded from lack of oxygen.

He shifts behind me, and I’m on my back.

The knife is still in his hand, and this time, the tip is pointed at my chest.

“Dane…” His name is little more than a pleading whisper.

“ Master ,” he corrects me. “You’re mine, Abigail. It’s time you remembered what that means.”

The knife flicks beneath the leather cord that connects the nipple clamps. The bells jingle softly as he slowly draws it upward on the flat of the blade.

“I wonder what will happen first,” he muses, eyes glittering with cruel fascination. “Will the cord be severed, or will those tight little clamps be tugged off of your nipples?”

“Don’t.” I dread the pain of the latter threat.

“You do beg so sweetly, but that won’t spare you. You’re my helpless little plaything now. Mine to toy with however I want.”

He slowly raises the knife, increasing the pressure on the cord. It begins to tug at the clamps, pulling on my abused nipples. Pain spears through me in sharp spikes that somehow turn to pure pleasure when they reach my core. I cry out and arch my back, desperate to alleviate the strain.

“Would you like that?” he taunts. “You could be my obedient little fucktoy. Or you can continue to suffer for me.”

I growl through gritted teeth, the only sound I’m able to make when pain rakes at me, commanding most of my attention.

“You brought this on yourself,”

That’s my only warning before he jerks the knife away from me. He doesn’t turn it to sever the cord with the sharp edge. My scream fills the maze when the nipple clamps are yanked free. The searing shock of pain makes my vision flash white for an instant.

I blink rapidly, and tears stream down my temples to wet my hair. The world comes back into sharp focus when I see the knife hovering just above my stinging nipple.

Fear shudders through me, a primal response to danger.

“Please…”

“I would never damage your beautiful body,” he reassures me. “But you’re going to have to remain very still for me. I’ll make the ache go away. I know you’re hurting.”

My nipples throb as though I’ve been stung by bees, but that doesn’t ease my spike of terror when the cold flat of the blade touches one tight peak with the lightest pressure.

All of my muscles lock up tight. A small, pitiful whimper eases up my throat, but the tiny exhalation is the only move I dare to make.

He stares down at me, eyes dark pools in the shadows of his mask. His beautiful face is drawn into stony, merciless planes, and his cock is hard against my thigh.

He’s getting off on this, reveling in his sadistic power over me.

And I’m molten for him.

My body relaxes, all of the fight going out of me as I submit. The blessed release of surrender is pure bliss, and it pulses through my body like a drug.

“So perfect,” he breathes. “My Abigail.”

“Yours.” My lips shape the word, but I don’t have enough air to speak. Not with the knife so perilously close to my vulnerable nipple.

He shifts the blade to my other breast, further soothing the sting from the clamps with cold steel. He keeps it there while he reaches between us, his free hand dipping under my soaked thong. He groans when he finds the wetness that coats my inner thighs.

“Stay just like that,” he orders, and he sounds like he might be drugged, too. “Don’t move.”

The knife is at my throat, sending a fresh burst of fear fluttering through my system. I float in it, riding the thrilling high.

I draw in shallow, careful breaths as he teases my swollen pussy with a featherlight touch.

“Please.” I mouth the plea, but I’m no longer begging for reprieve. I crave more: more fear, more pain, more pleasure.

I’ll take everything he wants to do to me. I’ll offer him anything he desires.

He’s my dark god, my master.

My everything.

And he’s looking at me like I’m the only person in his world. The only thing tethering him to sanity. He needs me so deeply that it transcends the bounds of physical lust. He yearns for me, just as I long for him, for this connection that we share.

Two thick fingers ease into my tight sheath, and he applies firm pressure to the sensitive spot inside me. The stimulation is slow, tender. So at odds with the violence of the knife at my throat.

My lashes flutter as primal chemicals mingle in my system. I’m no longer sure of the difference between fear and desire. There’s only the burning need for him and the euphoric release of submission.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs. “Keep breathing.”

I realize I’m dizzy from lack of oxygen, so I draw in a careful breath. His will compels me, and I’m his to command. I’ll do anything for him, suffer any torment. Because I know he’ll give me exquisite ecstasy in return.

“Now, come for me.”

He presses down on my clit and rubs my g-spot.

I don’t have enough air to scream, and I don’t dare to so much as writhe as cruelly potent pleasure rips through me. He watches me come in tormented silence, as though I’m the most fascinating, breathtaking thing he’s ever seen.

The cold kiss of the blade is gone, and he tosses the knife far away from us. I immediately start shaking, my entire body trembling with the force of my residual fear.

He strokes my hair back from my sweat-slicked brow and crushes his lips to mine, devouring me. I groan into his mouth, a purely wanton sound.

I came only seconds ago, but I’m still throbbing for him. I crave him inside me, joining us in the most intimate way.

He can’t seem to wait another moment, either. He unbuckles his belt and frees his cock. It presses at my slick opening, and I shift my hips up to welcome him. He slides in to the hilt, stretching me in one smooth thrust.

He breaks our kiss so that he can grasp my thighs.

He directs me to lift my legs between us until my calves rest on his shoulders.

He leans into me, and his cock sinks impossibly deeper, hitting a spot inside me that’s almost painful.

It adds the sweetest edge to our connection, and I tip my head back on a guttural moan.

I’m trapped beneath him, pinned by his strength. He grasps my wrists and holds them above my head. His other hand closes around my throat, squeezing gently.

He begins to claim me in long, hard thrusts that jar my entire body when he drives deep into me.

My muscles coil tighter as my pleasure crests once again, and my inner walls clamp down on his cock.

He snarls and increases his pace. With each possessive thrust, his fingers tighten around my throat incrementally.

Blood pounds in my ears, and the shadows of the maze draw closer. I can still breathe, but the pressure on my arteries restricts the blood flow to my brain.

“Scream for me,” he growls. “Give me everything.”

“Master!” I cry out, acknowledging his claim over me.

His title is a trigger, and my orgasm hits me with brutal force. Fireworks burst over my darkening world, and my scream fills the maze.

“Abigail!”

His cock pulses inside me, and for the first time, his hot cum lashes into me, marking me as his.

“I’m yours,” I sob as bliss consumes me and the shadows lengthen.

Just before I float away entirely, he releases my throat. Oxygenated blood surges back to my brain, and the world turns surreal. The only thing tethering me to reality is Dane’s soul-searing green gaze.

“Mine.” He seals the promise with a fierce kiss.