Page 11 of Stalked By Pestilence
My hands glided and scratched, leaving tracks over the beautiful maze of ink. His body reacted to every caress, and I liked it way more than I’d tell him. I sought out the patches where I’d be able to see the color change the most, but with the way he sucked in a breath after my nail grazed one of his pierced nipples, I could guess where to start.
Lifting his face with the business end of my whip, I addressed him singularly, “Safe phrase, birdie. What is it?”
His throat bobbed and those yellow eyes were pure liquid as they stared back. “Not Interested.”
I cracked the whip on his nipple, landing with a loudthwack, and a little hiss escaped his mouth. “Address me properly.”
His gaze sparked, and so did the heat between my hips. “Apologies, ma’am.”
My tongue dashed out to wet my lips, and his eyes shamelessly followed. His wrists were next to his head on the pillow, the powerful singer looking awfully cozy in cuffs. Then he waited.
Shimmying down his front, I kept a level glare on him until I’d straddled his massive thighs. I needed to spread much wider than normal to stay upright.
His heavy-lidded stare dropped to where I hovered over him, spread wide, and a groan thundered like a damn bike deep in his chest. It brought to life those little flutters of sensation all over my body.
The control I desperately craved in my life, I always found it here, putting powerful men under my spell. It never failed to give me a thrill to show an arrogant asshole his true place in my world.
“Bloody hell, woman, you’re a tasty bite, aren’t you?”
Another few punishing smacks rained down on his nipples, making him suck and choke on that last word. “Did I say you could speak?”
“No, ma’am,” came his throaty reply.
My pulse thundered to life. His growling voice, quieted in the face of my demands, was absolute bliss. Maybe I hadn’t fucked everything up by bringing this sexy giant back to my apartment.
Songbird was fully hard and his dick stood at attention, bouncing a little when I dropped my eyes to it. I ghosted the tip of the crop whip from head to base, luxuriating in the struggle taking place in his expression and body.
I might not need the heavier paddles. This guy was already getting off on degradation and light whip play, but I’d dial it up a notch. After dealing with Darcy’s shit all last week, I’d take a lot of pleasure out of it.
“This is fucking obscene. A goddamn eyesore,” I told him, landing a strike on the flared head, and his chest pushed out with another little hiss.
The shaft throbbed and pulsed, and I could’ve sworn I saw deviations that looked oddly reptilian. Scales? What the fuck? But when I tilted my head, they were gone.
Maybe I’d get a drug test tomorrow to make sure some asshole didn’t get to theonedrink I had. Not that I thought they could. The bartender and Dom were tight. Nothing got past him. Still…
Tracing his cock’s shape again, I sneered at him. “You must’ve really enjoyed getting these done, huh? Are we a bit of a pain whore, birdie?”
His jaw clenched, but he didn’t reply, so I swatted the crown and shaft several more times. The cuffs clinked for the first time sinceI’d put them on. Our masochistic singer liked that a lot. I absently wondered if the piercings made his dick more sensitive.
It was a shame tonight was the last because I had more things I wanted to explore with those little notches of painful delight.
“I asked you a question,” I growled at him, pulse drowning out my own voice the way it always did when I finally secured total control over my prey. I kept my body poised and still, but lust was pumping through my veins. That addictive relief that always came with another big asshole put in his place.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m a real pain whore,” he replied, his voice thick with arousal, feeding into mine in an instant.
It should be a goddamn crime to have a voice that sinfully delicious to the ears. His accent slathered every word out of his mouth with honey and danger.
I readjusted on top of him. I was already slick and eager to rub myself on him, so I did. I wouldn’t deny myself tonight. I’d take my pleasure and give him his—and by the way his cock strained and bounced, he was enjoying himself plenty.
Every part of him clenched as I rocked back and forth on top of his massive thigh, getting myself off. I painted the tattoos decorating the area with my slick.
His eyes didn’t dare look away when my hand took a path down my front, teasing the lace around one breast. A little breath escaped him, intense hunger flaring in his eyes, after my fingers slipped inside and teased my hardened tip.
He wet his lips, gone perfectly still, watching, afraid that if he moved at all I’d punish him by stopping. I got off on that fear and played into it, pausing for a second. His top lip pulled back, and I glared at him.
“Is that any way to look at me, Songbird?”
His mouth relaxed and a breath whooshed past his lips, exhaling tension. “No, ma’am.”