Page 11 of Twisted Enemy
“Jaysus,” she finally wheezes, her feet flexing in their cuffs.
My fingers slip between her thighs, pinching lightly at her clit, but she doesn’t react. Her nerves have no electricity left to fire.
That’s good, because her nipples have gone crimson in their pins. I release both metal clips at the same time, spreading them wide so they don’t drag at her tender flesh when I pull them away. Even so, she moans at the rush of blood.
“You goddamn fucking bastard,” she says. That’s good, solid English. My Kate’s back under control.
I unsnap the chain from her collar, releasing her from the hook in the ceiling, and she settles onto her feet with a sigh. Her arms come free next—first her forearms, then her biceps. She trails her fingers through my hair as I kneel to undo the spreader.
I don’t know if she’s steady enough to walk, but I’m not taking chances. I carry her to the bed and ease her onto the high mattress. I’m already turning toward the refrigerator, with its restorative water, when she mews, “Please.” That’s the word that got her down here. It’s rare enough that I stay by her side. Her fingers close around my wrist. “Stay with me. Just a minute.”
I’ll stay with her for hours. For days. Forever. I climb onto the bed and lean against the headboard.
As I pull her into the V of my spread legs, she shakes her head. “Too many clothes,” she murmurs, tugging at my black T-shirt.
It’s my turn to shakemyhead. “I’m fine.”
“For me, then.”
And I do it, because she’s my wife and she’s my sub and because I only got her back into my life yesterday.
She reaches for my belt buckle, but I close my fingers over hers. “Rest,” I say.
“I’m not tired.”
“You don’t need to do this.”
“I’m your wife,” she says, as if she’s read my mind. It’s the first time I’ve heard her say the word, and it startles me into releasing my grip on her hand.
She opens the button of my jeans and slides the zipper down. My cock is straining at my boxers; it twitches hard when she slips her hand through the fly.
This is my dungeon. We play by my rules. For almost two months, I had the strength of will not to come with Kate, not to come in her. But last night, she shattered my control. And now nothing will ever be the same between us.
“I think you’re happy to see me, Mr. Wolf.”
I growl as she cups my balls, but I don’t make her stop. She tugs at my black jeans, whining until I raise my hips then laughing as she chucks them aside. When she climbs on top of me, she grins, tossing her wild red hair so it curls over her hypnotizing tits.
“My,” she gloats as she takes me into her folds. “What a hard cock you have.”
The better to fuck you with, my dear.
That’s my line. But it takes every ounce of my shredded self-control not to roll her onto her back, not to pound into her without regard to the bright red stripe I painted across her ass last night.
Instead, I grit my teeth and tighten my fingers on her hips as she rides me, clutching my cock with her exquisite inner muscles. Her mouth stretches into a perfect O. Her thighs turn to steel. Tears sparkle at the corners of her eyes.
“Give it to me, ya feckin’ gombeen,” she orders. “Give it to me now.”
I have just enough willpower left not to shoot at her command. I’m still her Dom. I’m still in charge. And I’m not coming before she does, one more time.
I shift my right hand from her hip. My thumb settles over the deep red scar on her thigh, the freshest mark she’s left on herself, the cut that needed medical attention.
The wound is still healing. Dr. Patel would have taken out his stitches a week ago, but Kate was gone then, hiding from me. I don’t know who removed those tiny Xes of black silk. I wouldn’t put it past Kate to have done it herself, although the thought of her hurting, alone in some rented room, makes me snarl.
I spread my thumb across the angry red line, pressing hard enough to draw her gaze. Eyes locked, she takes my hand in hers. She shifts my grip from her thigh, bringing my thumb to her lips.
As she takes my cock with her pussy, she sucks my thumb into the soft wet heat of her mouth. She circles with her tongue, then scrapes with her teeth.
And then she comes, hard and fast, all the tiny muscles inside her gripping like she needs a lifeline. The clutch of her pussy and the spiral of her tongue unlock something at the base of my spine, and I finally empty into her, wave after wave of liquid heat. My free hand clutches her hip hard enough that I know she’ll have five new bruises. My throat tightens as I howl her name.
