Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
I was prepared to fight him back. To show him I was still here and not broken.
But I wasn’t prepared for the addictive rush of filthy, greedy yearning.
His entire body shuddered. “Only if I can take you with me.”
Victor chuckled as he ran a soft flogger over Rachel’s barely-there baby bump. His eyes flickered to us as if amused by our show.
We couldn’t talk freely. We could barely talk at all on this fucked-up island, but...I trusted Henri.
I trusted in our vow.
And I let go.
I dove into that black.
I let the twisted creature who’d been born the night of the treasure hunt take control. To embrace her fury, her lust, her violence.
“Touch me again, and I’ll make you wish you were dead.”
A gush.
Not a droplet this time but a river of hot, slick, ravenous need.
“Ah, Ily...” Falling on me, he bit my neck above my collar. “Are you sure you want to threaten me?”
“Get off me.”
He chuckled.
The softest hiss of the whip on stone echoed as he flicked it left and right.
An orgasm kindled in my core.
Already?
How?
God, why?
Why did this turn me on so much?
How much more could I stand before I shattered without a single touch?
He grabbed my jaw. His fingers scalded; body heat seared.
I gulped as electricity crackled between us.
“Tell me again what will happen if I touch you? Because...” He licked my cheek, his tongue pointed and cruel. “I’m touching you.”
I moaned.
My heart flurried.
My fault.
My choice.
I’d allowed my synapses to accept this.
Encouraged my system to crave his.
And damn...I craved and craved and craved.
Grasping at sanity’s shore that seemed so far away, I bared my teeth. “You’re sick.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” He shuddered as if he couldn’t control the hungry beast snarling in his eyes. Wedging his hips against mine, he thrust. The iron rod in his jeans stabbed against my belly. “Feel that? See how much your fire turns me on? See how badly I want to snuff it out?”
Words flew away.
All I could see was his smoky-grey eyes. Heavy lidded, magnetic, hypnotic, demonic.
His hands feathered into my hair, the whip dangling from his right and branding my shoulder. Pulling me forward until my shoulders threatened to pop from the hook holding me in place, he hovered his mouth over mine.
My lips stung for his kiss.
I grew drunk and dizzy, waiting, needing—
Without warning, he flipped me as nastily as Victor had.
I moaned as my breasts wedged against the cross. My stomach and cheek smashing against the wood. My criss-crossed wrists kept me trapped. “Henri—”
“Master H, if you don’t mind.” His slightly calloused hands roamed over my back and ass. Squeezing hard, he spread my cheeks and wedged his hips against me. “Fuck, I want to take you here.”
True fear returned, amplifying my out-of-control need into something heart-fistingly potent.
The gemstone dildos Victor had given us. Would Henri use them? Did he truly plan to take me there?
I’d never...
I didn’t want—
“Christ, you’re soaking.” His fingers drove from behind, spearing inside my core, sending me soaring onto my tiptoes.
I didn’t just moan this time, I cried out—tortured and tormented, desperate and dark.
Running his nose along my tattooed spine, he murmured, “I honestly have no idea how I’m going to react when I start whipping you, Ily, so...I suggest you hold on.”
My heart skipped. “Wait...don’t—”
“You look fucking amazing strung up like this.” Two fingers became three. My mind blacked out. “Ride my hand. Come for me like a good little girl, then maybe I won’t whip you after all.”
His command soaked into my blood.
Any normal person would obey. They’d choose a release over pain and do whatever it took, but today...I wasn’t normal. He wasn’t normal. In this place, we were abnormal.
And so...my response was the only one I could give.
Clamping my legs together, I tried to bruise his wrist. “Stop touching me, you bastard.”
Hissing between his teeth, he yanked his hand away.
I mourned the loss of being filled, but then...his body heat vanished too. His footfalls tripped unevenly away. And the slither of that terrifying whip ratcheted up my pulse until I breathed with quick little pants. True terror shoved aside my script. “Henri...wait...”
“Master H is my title. Use it.”
“Don’t—”
“Too late.” He made a guttural noise that made my hair stand on end. “I tried to warn you and even gave you an out. You didn’t take it.”
The quiet hiss of leather flying through the air landed with the sting of a thousand angry bees.
“Ah fuck.” I jolted. My cuffs jingled. My back burned.
Never.
I’d never felt anything so sharp, so stinging, so savage.
The whip snapped over my left shoulder blade, burning me with a million fires. The ink down my spine seemed to throb, the tip of my wand pulsing with heinous magic.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Henri groaned.
I scrambled against the cross. The hook clanged against its chain. And I screamed as the whip sang again—
“Ahhh!” The second lash burrowed deep into my skin, blazing on my other shoulder blade.
“Your tanned skin makes me work harder for those red welts,” he groaned. “You should see what I see. See how drenched you are. See how you arch into the whip’s kiss.”
He struck again.
I collapsed against the cross, my shackles holding me upright.
Just a game.
Just a game.
Playing.
Faking.
So why did it feel so real?
Why did my mind fracture, and my body shatter, and everything I’d ever known tear itself into silly little pieces?
He struck a fourth time.
Fire.
Liquid, luminous fire.
Everywhere.
“Your tattoo is glowing red, little nightmare,” he grunted. “The wand looks alive. A curse just for me.”
The pain billowed and cycloned. It soaked into my blood and travelled straight to my soul. With fingers made of light and whispers made of night, it shut down my thoughts one by one. Snuffed them out. Turned them off.
I was no longer human with feelings and fears. I was pure energy and vibration.
I sank into the trance.
A fifth lick, this one tattooing my very heart.
I screamed.
I convulsed.
My insides contracted on emptiness, needing, needing, needing...
“You were made for this,” he snarled. “Made for me to mark.”
I sagged. I tensed.
The synergy between us became carnal.
His energy wrapped around mine. My energy bled out to join his.
Crowding me against the cross, he pressed his front to my blazing back. His sweaty, scorching skin plastered to mine. He must’ve ripped off his t-shirt and, good God, it felt too good. Far, far too good.
I moaned as his hand speared between my thighs, penetrating me with three thick fingers. My legs spread of their own accord, delivering myself up to him. My ass backed up, begging him.
He groaned as he grabbed my hip with his other hand, rocking me over his hand.
Stars in my eyes.
Galaxies in my heart.
“Tell me again not to touch you,” he grunted. “I dare you.”
I almost swallowed my own tongue as he pumped into me, rough and primal.
An orgasm spindled from nowhere.
So close.
So near.
Up and up and—
“I feel you.” He pressed his forehead right on the tip of my wand. “Feel your greedy pussy milking my fingers with those hot little pulses.” He bit my ear, his breath tattered. “It makes me want to fuck you so bad.”
Do it.
Yes.
Please!
“I hate you,” I groaned, falling deeper into love.
Just words at this point. Just scrambled-up lines that meant the absolute opposite.
“You hate me, huh?” With a soft, sensual chuckle, Henri removed his fingers.
I moaned as my core rippled with frustration.
I needed him to fill me.
Complete me.
A cold draft prickled down my back as he stumbled away. The warning hiss of the whip and its dangerous song slicked through the air.
Another lash cracked right on my ass.
“Ah fuck!” My hips shot forward, bruising me against the cross.
I had no words for what happened.
No explanation for how the corporeal part of me suddenly existed on a spiritual plane of sensuality. I’d touched such a metaphysical place yesterday when I’d hidden from Victor. I’d fallen into sublime quietness for only a few seconds every time I meditated, but this...
God this...
“Beg me to stop,” Henri gasped. “Tell me how much you hate me.”
I couldn’t breathe, let alone speak.
Another lash.
A waspish sting.
Meditative calmness.
Intense mindfulness.
I burned alive.
Because of him.
My other half.
My missing half.
My blood turned to light as every molecule shivered for more.
“I want to do such bad things to you, Ily...” He struck again, this time on my other ass cheek.
I snapped forward against the cross again. My knees trembled. My legs threatened to give out. Another wave of hot fire cascaded down my back and into my blood.
It pushed me headfirst into a deeper realm.
An awful detonation.
It wasn’t his darkness that shoved me into pleasure but the innocence beneath his mastery. The pain tangled in his power. The vulnerability and love and kindness.
A kindness that hadn’t been eradicated despite what his father had done to him.
A commitment that came from a lifetime of needing to belong. To belong to one person. Just one. Just me.
Another lash directly on my spine.
I went completely blind as all my heat soaked into my clit.
I hovered on the edge of an orgasm.
I panted and sweated, moaned and mewled.
All I wanted was for him to finish. To fill me. Instead, I clung to our play and forced, “Fuck you.”
“Such a filthy word from your pretty little mouth.”
“Get away from me.”
“Nope.” His heavy footsteps stepped into me. The prickle of his energy coated my entire back. “I have just the thing to tame that mouth of yours.”
My hovering orgasm teased.
If he touched me, I’d fall.
I held my breath and—
With brutal hands, he flipped me to face him.
My wrists uncrossed.
Our eyes locked.
And all our games fell away.
His gaze held no light, just pitch blackness. His lips thin, temples glittering with sweat. He’d stripped to his tight navy boxer-briefs, his erection popping out.
Whatever intensity we existed in lashed us together.
I felt him.
Heard him.
You’re perfect. His eyes glowed.
“You’re drenched,” his lips murmured.
I love you, his heart whispered.