Chapter Eight #2
He lost all sense of time, too fascinated with how her thigh muscles flexed as she bounced, the sheer concentration in her dark eyes as she stared blindly beyond him.
He recognized that expression, the one that told him she was with him physically, but mentally, she was focusing on hunting down her pleasure and taking it all.
Only, she couldn’t find it.
Damp with sweat, breathing heavy with exertion, Violet grunted and slapped her hands on his chest in frustration. “Goddamn it.”
“Need help?”
“No.” She shook her hair back, blew out a breath, then nodded. “Yes.”
“Do you want to stay on top?”
“I just want to get off, Reaux.”
The temptation to make her beg was fierce, but the underlying note of desolation in her voice made it impossible.
Giving her a pat on the side of the ass, he jerked his chin. “Up you get, Bennie. Take a minute, relax.”
That greedy pussy clung to his shaft as she eased off him, and the sight of a single, thin strand of her juices still connecting them as he left her empty gave him a potent thrill. She was swollen, her slit darkly flushed with arousal, glistening with it.
She was every teenaged boy’s wet dream come to life.
Unhurriedly, Reaux dropped his hands and stretched, sitting up and spinning so his feet were flat on the floor. Grasping his cock in one hand, he patted his thigh with the other. “As you were, Mistress.”
“Aren’t I the one supposed to be giving orders?”
Reaux shrugged, idly jacking himself off. “I’m not the one leaking juices down my thighs, Violet. Stop arguing and get on.” Was it his imagination, or did she look… disappointed. “Would you rather I chase you through the cabin and stake my claim on you like an animal?”
A flicker of interest shone in her eyes before she hid it. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Breeding kink.” Slowly, he rose and loosened his neck and shoulders. “Primal kink. Some of your tastes have evolved, Bennie. Are we going for the trifecta?”
She took a step back, obviously sensing the shift in power. “Trifecta?”
He grinned and pursued her, one step at a time. “Consensual nonconsent.”
Shock illuminated her face. He saw the wheels turning in her brain, spinning the three threads together. How exciting would she find the prospect of being hunted, forcibly held down and made to take his cock, bred like a mare in stocks?
Her breath hitched, the pulse in her throat visibly throbbing.
Apparently, she liked the idea.
Holding both hands up, Violet licked her lips nervously. “There have to be boundaries. Rules.”
Respecting the unspoken plea, Reaux stopped and nodded. “Of course. Name them.”
“I, ah… shit. Uh…” Frazzled, she seemed helpless for the first time since he’d come back into her life. “Safewords.”
“Butterfly,” he murmured.
“You remember my safeword?”
“One day you’ll learn that when it comes to you, there isn’t much I forget.” He hitched his sweats back into place, tightening the strings when his cock tried to breach the waistband. “Anything else?”
“I-I can’t think.”
“Then run,” he suggested in a low, dark tone. “And hide. Because when I catch you, I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’ll be bruised for days, whether you want it or not. When I’m done with your cunt, that virgin asshole is next on my list.”
Dominant Violet was gone in an instant, his words triggering submissive Violet to the surface. She gave an awkward, anxious squeak of alarm and bolted faster than a startled rabbit into its burrow.
This was an unexpected twist, he admitted to himself as he gave her a few seconds to get ahead. Unexpected but exceptionally pleasing—CNC was a kink mostly considered taboo to most, requiring an unprecedented level of trust on both sides.
True rape was never condoned in community circles; perpetrators were shunned and reported to the authorities.
CNC was a completely different ballpark.
The submissive willingly surrendered herself to the Dom and his desires, making herself incredibly vulnerable on levels she might not have thought about before.
Adrenaline caused the body to feel everything more intensely—not just arousal, but fear, pain, all the negatives as well as the positives.
The odds of subdrop after a CNC scene were substantially higher.
From the Dom’s point of view, this kind of scene was mentally exhausting.
Maintaining a duty of care, balancing primal urges tamed by centuries of civilization with his own moral code, ensuring his self-control was strong enough not to lose himself and do real, devastating harm to someone who was putting their life in his hands.
It was not a kink for the faint-hearted, morally corrupt, or insecure.
“Ready or not, Bennie, here I come.”
Reaux didn’t rush. The cabin was big, but not ridiculously so. If it took him an hour to find her, so be it. By the time he caught her, the anticipation and prey mindset would be driving her crazy. She was already aroused, itchy with need and frustration.
Sauntering down the hallway, he began to whistle the same four notes over and over like a psychopath casually trailing after his victim through the woods as she stumbled and tripped over every fallen branch, rock, and imaginary tuft of grass.
Would she hide or would she fight?
He really hoped she went for the second option.
A damn good tussle would give him the opportunity to rip those peachy pants off her perfect ass, shred the T-shirt covering her beautiful breasts.
She wasn’t quite a match for him physically—he was considerably heavier, definitely fitter and stronger, but he wasn’t going up against a lightweight with no spirit.
If she chose fight, he’d have a struggle on his hands.
Just the thought of it made his balls ache.
Submission was a precious thing when given freely. Something fragile to be cradled and cherished, a crystal ornament held in unworthy hands, when it belonged to the woman he loved.
When it was won in a fight, it was a darker, sweeter entity.
Still whistling, he checked the bathroom first, already sure she wasn’t in there. Too few places to hide, nowhere for her to lay in wait and ambush him if she was inclined. The kitchen and guest bedroom, the storage closets, were all quiet and still.
“Bennie, Bennie, Bennie,” he sang. “If you come out now and kneel, I’ll go easier on you. Every minute I spend looking for you is an extra minute I’ll take back with my cock up your ass. The longer you make me wait, the worse this will be for you.”
With only the bedroom left, he swung the door open and stepped inside, sniffing the air.
The room vibrated with energy—anxious, fearful, excited energy.
He slammed the door shut, his gaze landing on the closet.
“Trapped like the scared little mouse you are. No way out now, Bennie, and I’m done being lenient. Whatever you get, you earned it.”
Movement caught the corner of his eye; he just wasn’t quick enough to dodge the belt before it cracked over his ass with a meaningful crack, followed by a searing stripe of heat burning into his flesh. Even as he shouted in French, Violet jumped on his back, hooking an arm around his neck.
Her other hand slid down his chest, her fingers latching onto his nipple. She sicced her nails into it, twisting and pulling. “How bad do you think it’s going to get for you?”
Oh, she’d declared war.
No holds barred, then.
Gripping the arm around his neck with one hand, Reaux marched to the bed and flipped her over his shoulder.
He hissed as her nails detached from his flesh, then studied the beads of red welling from the small wounds.
“I gave you a chance to play nice, Violet. Could’ve just stayed still and taken it, but now… oh, now you’ve made me angry.”
Flat on her back, slightly winded, she glared up at him. “And?”
“You won’t like me angry.”
She made a taunting noise in her throat, then rolled onto her hands and knees. Dark hair tumbled over her face until he caught only a glimpse of her eyes through the locks. She looked savage, primal, like a gorgeous cavewoman ready to tackle her next meal. “Touch me and I’ll kill you.”
A sudden thought struck him. Did she need this? Not the sharp, threatening dialogue or CNC, but the opportunity to beat the tar out of him. Did she need to hurt him physically in order to recompense herself for the pain he’d caused her heart?
It seemed she might; she wasn’t falling into the victim role as he’d anticipated for a CNC scene. She’d run, but she’d most definitely chosen fight over hiding. Antagonizing, combative…
He added pretty fucking vicious to the list when she swiped those nails down his thigh, much like a cat once it stopped warning a stroking hand to cease and desist. He glanced down at the marks rising quickly along his skin—had she been aiming for his dick?
His love for her, all of her, expanded again.
“Only gonna hurt yourself more,” he told her in a cold voice.
“Maybe when I’m done with you, I won’t let you go.
Just keep you tied up with a collar around your throat, chain you to the bed, and turn you into my private, personal painslut.
Hmmm, with that fire and attitude, I’ve got a few friends who’d happily flog the sass out of you. ”
She bared her teeth. “Try it, asshole.”
Reaux feinted a move toward her hair, smacked her curled fingers away when she lashed out at him again, and hooked his hand in the front of her T-shirt. He yanked her forward harshly, feeling the stitching rip a little, and yanked again harder.
The shirt ripped along the shoulder seam and down her chest, exposing one full, pebbled breast. “Don’t even get me started on what I’m going to do to your asshole, Violet.
” A third and final yank tore the rest of the shirt all the way to the bottom hem; he pulled the ruined garment off her without ceremony or gentleness.
“By the time I’ve stretched it open, everyone in a five-mile radius will know it’s mine. ”