Page 18 of The Vixen

Instead, with my balls in her vice grip, she squeezes.

Hard.

My jaw drops open as I rise onto my toes, my airway cut off immediately at the sudden movement. The pain moves from sharp to throbbing as I shove Luna’s chest and send her stumbling. It’s only a second before I’m beckoning her back, my hands on the belt, my face silently begging her to release me.

She doesn’t.

No surprise.

This time, when the world blackens, she doesn’t come to my rescue.

CHAPTER 6

LUNA

He smells like himself again.

Kneeling beside the bench so I’m level with Sawyer’s shoulder, I close my eyes and breathe in the pleasant woodsy smell dusted with the lingering scent of vanilla. An incidental marking—same as Zephyr’s strawberry shampoo, though far better suited.

My fingertips trail a path along the curved ridge of his tricep, bumping over red rope that secures his torso. I follow the last braid to the metal joint beneath the bench; give a sharp slackless tug.

“Sawyer,” I whisper, walking two fingers to his shoulder. He doesn’t stir at his name, but his face twitches with a gentle caress beside his eye, creases breaking out around it. “Wake up, sleepy head. We’re not finished.”

His eyes open slowly, brows already bunched in a glare—as if his body knows to be angry before his mind can remember. Inspite of his injuries, his punishments, hisnear death experience. I expect nothing less.

Gandhi once said that strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.

“There he is.” My lips stretch to imitate Sawyer’s signature grin—playful and cruel.

His arms jerk against the rope as his neck strains to take in his situation. It should be familiar.

Naked. Torso flat on the bench with his knees pulled forward, ass up in the air—calves wound so tight his heels have paled. A worm frozen mid stride.

He jerks his knees in an attempt to inchworm his way forward, but the rope is unforgiving.

My elbows dig into my thighs as I stay crouched and watch for the horror to cross his expression, for the helplessness to seize his chest.

He presses his forehead to the bench with a sigh. “You are onecrazyfucking bitch.”

He speaks low and even—no sign of fear, none of strange humor. Just words that he means. Words I should expect.

My head turns so he won’t see my smile fall, though he isn’t looking at me anyway. I rub two fingers over my sternum and clear my throat before standing.

“I’m told you crumpled the paper I supplied for you.”

Sawyer shivers as I drag my nail down the curve of his spine, skirting the bandage at the center of his back. At his tailbone, I pause. Slip a latex glove from my pocket.

“I suppose that means you don’t intend to obey?” I roll the glove over my hand.

He huffs a quiet laugh. “For an inbred, you’re fast.”

“Bold thing to say for a man in your predicament.” The latex snaps lightly at my wrist.

“Well, we’ve both seen how quickly the tide can change.”

My lips curve as a tiny gust of air pushes through my lips. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

I step in close and press my middle finger to his anus. Pause. Peer at his face, half-turned and fearless. It doesn’t even flicker when I push in, his muscles lax as half my finger disappears.