Page 55 of The Vigilante's Lover

Mia keeps surprising me.

I pull away from her naked body, arms tied over her head, ankles lashed to the bedposts. The sun caresses her skin, flawless and smooth.

I can’t help myself, but let my fingers travel down all the planes and curves. The swell of those luscious breasts, the tightly puckered nipples, the small bump of her ribs and the concave of her belly.

I take a firm grip on both hips, squeezing. She’s spread wide, open for me. Just to torture her, I lean down and run my tongue along those tender exposed parts of her. They are mine, and even my jaded self revels a bit in the fact that they have only ever been mine.

She seems none the worse for wear for having lost her virginity the night before. Her pain threshold is high, perhaps. Maybe that’s why she likes what she does. It bodes well for a Vigilante to withstand anything. And for Mia, maybe even to like it a little.

My erection jumps at just the thought of it.

I’ve unleashed every brutal instinct I’ve ever suppressed in the name of being a gentleman on this girl, and she wants more.

I keep waiting for her to tell me to stop, to show any sign that I should go back to something more traditional, more vanilla, as they say.

But she doesn’t. Danger is in her blood.

She’s utterly still. Listening. I won’t give her a hint of what’s to come. Watching her glisten up with every new sensation is my obsession.

This one last thing will require a bit of preparation. I have nothing on hand that is designed for what I’m about to do, but Vigilantes know how to craft a tool from whatever materials might be available.

I snatch up one of the pillows. As expected, they are high quality and filled with feathers. I rip open the end. Mia startles a little at the sound.

The feathers are light and soft. Perfect. She’ll think it’s a break from the more intense striking play, like with the belt. But she’ll be wrong.

I jerk a tissue from a container next to the bed.

I roll it in a line. To make the feathers behave, I grab a handful and dunk the tips in the watery remains of the Old Fashioned.

The wet ends are much easier to tie together in a tight clump, like a feather duster.

I knot them securely with the rolled-up tissue.

I touch it to the tender spot under her chin.

Her concerned expression softens when she feels it.

“Ahhh,” she says, opening her neck to the sensation.

She doesn’t seem to realize that there is not much that is more difficult to manage than a prolonged tickle.

I drift down, encircling her breasts. She writhes a little, enjoying the soft caress.

I dip it into her belly button. She smiles, almost giggling.

I stay there a little longer, knowing we’re going from a tickle to a forceful irritation. Mia’s movements begin to become more forceful, trying to shift the prickle to new areas.

It’s getting to her.

“Jax,” she says. She’s still in the realm of normal sensation, unable to push past it.

So far she’s enjoyed the short painful strikes of flogger or belt, but this is a whole new level.

I will push her, just to see if I can take her into that euphoric space where pain and pleasure cross back and forth over the same threshold.

I shift down, just below her belly, but not any farther. For a moment, she is still and patient, but then she begins to squirm again.

Her breathing speeds up. She’s trying to manage it. I drop down, hitting her squarely where she is most sensitive.

At first she moans, enjoying the attention to those delicate parts. But then she’s struggling against her bonds, arms thrashing.

“I can’t take it,” she says. “I can’t do it.” Her voice is strained.

I know she’s close to the end of her tolerance. I go a little longer, just a hair more. She lets out a low groan.

I jerk away the feathers and smack her hard with my palm.

She jerks up, everything quivering. Her whole body tenses and she cries out, her words unintelligible. I press my hand hard against her, feeling the shudders come over her.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she keeps going on. I stay in place, holding firmly to her, feeling her orgasm ripple out. Then I can take it no longer myself.

I kneel between those soft thighs and thrust into her in one hard move.

Mia lurches up against me, and I wonder if I am too rough for her so soon after last night. But then I have to laugh because she’s got her hands on me, pushing me in. She’s figured out how to get out of the belt and I haven’t even noticed.

I pull the sleeve away from her eyes. “You amaze me, Mia Morrow,” I tell her.

“Show me how much,” she says.

I hold on to her hips and move in a steady, hard rhythm. Her breasts sway with every movement and I can’t look away. Everything about her is perfect, delectable. And mine.

She sits up, holding on to me, bending her knees now so that she can move with me even with her ankles tied.

I’m not sure who’s in control anymore now, as I’m getting lost in the feel of her breasts against my chest.

My body moves within her, steadily, with increasing frenzy. Her breathing speeds up, and I can tell when this deeper, stronger orgasm begins because a low moan comes from her throat.

I concentrate on taking her where I want her to go. Then, unexpectedly, she moves her head and bites me on the shoulder. Hard.

Shit. That’s it, I unleash inside her. She shudders around me, and the room echoes with both of us going over the top. Her arms clutch at me, and I hold her tightly. We’re breathing at exactly the same rate, chests rising and falling in tandem.

We don’t move for a moment, caught in that airless space of the aftermath.

Then she draws in a breath. “Jesus, Jax,” she whispers. “You’re going to ruin me for any other man.”

And I realize then, she’s ruining me too.