“Only because this is our first time in a dungeon like this,” she mentions almost inaudibly. “We have changed, and there are no stops on this slide we are on.”
“Do you want there to be?”
“Not really, but I am scared,” she says on the verge of weeping. “I am getting creepy ass phone calls, and you are working your ass off to keep me safe, not to mention all of the other issues we are bringing to the table. I am just afraid the slide is going to break from the weight of our baggage.”
“I am not going to let anything happen to you,” I reassure, bracing her shoulders with my palms.
“And what about Cassidy…”
Her questions throw me off guard. For the life of me, I do not understand how she can be so caring after knowing what I have been doing with Cas. But her genuine concern forces my hand and makes me love Iris all that much more. Cas shares in the heartache with me, but Iris gets the whole package—the damaged, insecure, and driven man that I actually am. And she loves him.
“Cas will be fine,” I reply, realizing that is what the asshole says, and what she really wants is more despite the pain it brings me. I dive and mutter up the intimate truth, bringing myself to the table.
In doing so, I find Iris’ level—and it is deep; so deep that warm tears trickle over my cheeks. “I promised Kace long ago that I would never let anything happen to Cas. I swore to take care of her until my last breath. And I will promise you the same. Nothing will happen to Cassidy Hope on my watch.”
“You are a fucking madman…”
“I am a sleeper agent in a private operative that saves people—mostly women and children every fucking day. If you think that doesn’t take a certain amount of crazy, you are wrong. I have seen horrific things no one ever should. Insane fuckers taking what they want without regard or care to human life. I have to be crazier than they are; it is a job requirement. I embrace my monster every single fucking day.”
“Show him to me…”
“You don’t want that,” I warn, grabbing a handful of gear from the cabinet. Approaching her slow, I kneel down before her, pray, and make the sign of the cross. “You really do not want that.”
“With the utmost respect, Sir…I do want that. You have it in your ability to take away my fears and show me your truth, so how can you not do that?” Her pause causes my glare to catch her virtue. She is so pure. She doesn’t understand what she is asking for. “I mean assuming you actually want this intimacy with me…and we aren’t just another play. Show me we are real. Give me you—good, bad, ugly, in between, and every which direction—stop hiding from me.”
Her pleas weigh heavily into my thought process as I am at odds with myself over what to do. I came here to have a sensual scene with the girl and part of me just wants to make it a bloody fucking Valentines.
Still having not made a decision, I stride closer. “More than words…”
“Then prove it! You badass motherfucker!”
With the adrenaline pumping into my veins, I close my eyes and touch my cross. “Forgive me father for what I am about to do…”
Cracking my neck, I pop my fingers and take a deep breath as my fingers loop around the signal whip. She bites her lip as her makeup stains and smears across her face. She looks like a well-used whore, and I am such a sick fuck that the sight of her makes my dick twitch with urgency. Amidst the caked-up mess of shadows and black lines, her sapphire eyes are almost crystalline—the color of ice.
God, she is fucking perfect.
It will never, ever get better than Iris.
Grinning deviously, I pace around to the back of the cross. Her view is completely obstructed as I pop off my belt. Lashing out once, I feel the vibration as I meet the leather to the flesh of her ass. I am transported, riding high from the first hit of a drug I cannot resist.
She gasps, “I didn’t agree to this.”
“You fucking agree to everything,” I rebuke, knowing her mind game is strong.
“But a belt…”
“The belt is the core of all, babydoll. It all starts there with Daddy’s belt. If you don’t know that by now, we got some schoolin’ to do,” I taunt, drawing back and firing it off again.
“I fucking hate you.”
“Talk dirty to me some more. It only ignites my need to make you my slut.”
“But a belt…” she says again as if I didn’t hear her the first time.
Cackling mischievously, I let it fly again. “No, this is my part of the darkness you say you want to know. Dom has to keep some secrets. Welcome to my hell, kitten.”
I pop her again, her skin reddening up nice. “Damn, you have a good ass. I cannot wait to fuck it.”
Discreetly, I shift to check in on her emotional well-being. This isn’t about crumbling her into nothing. I sure as fuck don’t need a sub dropping out over my actions. I catch her biting her lip with a smirk as the tears stream down her cheeks.
But something occurs to me—she isn’t crying because of the pain of the belt. Pop. But the hurt from something else hidden brims up the tears with every lash. And another snap of the belt.
I will crave this girl for the rest of my breath, a lifetime of nights will never be enough. I miss the beat of the next one coupled over with my own realizations. The darkness poses not only a threat for her, but for me.
My hand rubs against her ass, circling in a gentle motion as I glance up at the clock on the wall—midnight—the witching hour. Moving around to the front, I thread my belt between her legs. I want to halt the clock and stop the time.
“Wait. Stop,” I grumble.
Gazing like an angel hovering over me, she says, “What’s wrong?”
Immediately, I dart up and kiss her lips. “This shit won’t do.”
Lowering back down, I pull the bow at the front of her corset and the silken ribbon slides easily out of her piercings. Studying her up close, I nuzzle her clit and savor her once.
“Oh, hell…” she gasps, fighting against the tethers.
Standing up, I lick my finger and place it between her swollen lips. “Iris Kettles, you are soaked.”
Deeper I go, seeking her entrance. Coasting my fingers into her, I kiss her unabashedly revealing my desire for her with my tongue. Our lips strain against each other as more of my fingers thrust inside.
“Fisting?” She moans with a pleasurable sigh. “Really, Raniero?”
I kiss her again and close my eyes, pressing my forehead against hers. “Do you have any idea how much I want to pull you off of there and make mad, crazy love to you all night?”
“As much as I want you to,” she breathily whispers, kissing my lips, nose, and cheeks. “But I know you can’t. You have to wait until you’ve carried me over the threshold or something.”
I jet back with a surprised stare as she winks, teasing me. Damn, if I don’t need her subtle humor right now. I just need her as I assure, “When I fucking marry you—and I will fucking marry you—I will make sure you have the night of bliss to end all nights.”
“You’re such a fucker…teasing a girl with a vow and a ring,” she clamors back. I swear this fucking girl doesn’t stop. And that is why I am actually pussy whipped. But fuck, don’t let her know.
“Keep this wet for me, princess. I will be back,” I suggestively mumble, implying how nasty things are about to get. In playing with her, my charm continues, “I have to go whip my sub.”
“I cannot imagine it ever being dry around you,” she says, blinking and grinning, “Sir, your sub would very much like you whipping her ass.”
I ask, “Right or left handed?”
“Right, why?”
“Don’t ask why,” I reprimand, tapping her thigh.
She sighs and asks, “What are you?”
I scoff and scold, “You ask too many questions, but left.”
Putting the buckle end of my belt in her right hand, I put the other in her mouth. “You are going to want to bite. This is going to hurt. Trust me, I know.” Taking
a deep breath, I stare at her ass with the hard cane in my hand. This wasn’t easy for her either. As much as she has never had a scene like this, I have never led one either. I actually care about this girl. And that little tidbit changes everything.
My hands are clammy and my stomach in knots. Thudding the stick against the support brace, I watch her jump against the tethers. I flick my wrist back once and let it flow like part of my body as it licks the back of her thigh. Her flesh rises with crimson quick. I aim for the other thigh, and the tip graces the bottom of her ass cheek causing her to moan. I rearrange my position, and the cane soars again. Crack. One thigh marks with a nice red x as I work on the other. She moans again, hungry for release.
During the caning, her tears never stop. The sensation of pain is evident in her expression. Canings aren’t for lightweights nor the unpracticed. I have my adept skills from Uncle Joe, a Master Canesman. I have been in her place; I know this ritual. I know how aroused she must be as every draw moves us higher to a sensual pleasure. Circling around, I note the rush of dampness coating her thighs. From behind, I unbuckle her feet.
With a huff, she complains, “Are you already done?”
“Yes, you are not prepared for Sal’s seventh level of pain. I need the signal on you…now.”
“Wait!”
“What?” I bark, adding, “Question Queen…”
“That’s better than lil girl,” she acknowledges with a smirk that pulls a smile out of me. “Explain…please.”
“You aren’t into pain,” I assess with a determined, but conflicted gaze. “And we do not have a sadomasochistic love.”
Her eyelids flutter as she whispers, “How do you know that?”
Undoing her wrists, I focus with pure desire, starved to satiate my need to give her pain. “I want to hurt you, Iris. Probably as much as you want me to, but I won’t because that is not what we are about.”
“You mean you can’t because you are afraid,” she sasses.
“I mean what I say and say what I mean,” I scold, knowing she isn’t done.
“I am a masochist.”
I laugh sardonically, taking her hand and helping her down. “You—Kettles—are not a masochist.”
“Pardon the pun, but isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?” she continues yammering on, hair and arms flying every which direction, stomping about after me, and throwing a lil girl hissy fit. “How do you know I am not into pain? You don’t get to have the market on endorphin loads and adrenaline rushes…”
I stop, completely frozen, connecting all the dots. “What did you say?”
She pivots in front of me and pokes my chest. “You do not get to have the market on endorphin loads and…”
“Stop,” I interrupt, lifting a flat hand and gazing up. “You’ve studied…”
“Hell, to the fuck yes, I have studied your drug of choice… Now, are you going to escort me into your world or do I need to find someone else to take me flying?”
A single tremor flows through my body, an electrical current leading my desire for us to be more. I yank her up off the floor and toss her over my shoulder before plopping her on the bed like a pillow. With a natural control, I command, “Belly now.”
“Yes, Sir.”
I cannot decide if the risk is worth it. It is bad enough to have one person in a relationship suffering from my addiction, much less two. I hear crying—genuine upset—she wants this, but my job as her Dominant means making choices—hard choices. And I am not sure she is prepared for the onslaught of dark emotions to trigger as we travel through the circles of the ultimate high.
Scratching my beard thoughtfully, I growl, “You seriously want to go there?”
“It is all I have ever wanted with you, Sir,” she says with a sniffle. “I want the blissful dream—to be alive and together on the other side in some hallucinogenic divine state where you live. You are my God—my only one. Take me to your home. I want to worship you.”
Running the tails of the flogger gently along her back, I counter, “I will consider your offer, but until I decide—we will work our way there. You cannot leap to the top of a building to jump off and soar. We must build you up block-by-block, session-by-session. I won’t push too far only to scar you and lose you.”
Iris spread her thighs and arms as far on the bed as she can. The whip comes suddenly—stinging her back mural like a thousand little bees—and the rush pulses through my veins. I know her drops of trust will soak into my globule of nothingness. She is coming after me as I lash out again.
And I get hard.
Being as careful as I can, the last thing I want is to draw up blood. She doesn’t need my scars. So, I return to her thighs and ass, welting her flesh up good. I have impeccable aim as I fire up her skin and ignite the fuse of us. This is who we are and what we will be.
Screaming into the pillow, she flails only slightly as I continue on puckering her skin with my marks. Without warning, I flip her over, whispering the tops of her thighs several more times before slowing down. Like a butterfly’s wings fluttering on a flower, I lightly brush the tail over her breasts, tapping each one without so much a mark. My presence is felt. Running the tails between her breasts and navel, I stroke her sex and gently tickle the piercings, almost like a knock.
She answers, “Please, Master Sal…”
Dropping the whip, I fall atop her grinding my hips into her ass. I am amazingly erect, bound against the fabric of my pants. Kissing her neck, I smooth my hands over her body, cupping her breast and squeezing her nipple, lightly pulling at the rings. Her hands reach for me, pawing like a hungry kitten. I flip her over, kissing her lips and bucking my hips up into her hollow.
She fumbles with my button and zipper as I continue my kisses. She takes her toes and pulls the baggy pants down as my lips don’t cease taking her flesh. Her hand finds me, completely adorned with my jewelry—the PA and apadravya. Smiling, she giggles and says, “We are a pair.”
She pulls me towards her dampness, inviting my body into hers with an arch of her hips. My erection slides against her abundant wetness, and it would be so easy to slip inside.
“Will you take them out when you take my ass?”
I glance up from sucking on her neck. “Baby, of course. I don’t want to hurt you.” Grinning like the devil, I watch as my angel laughs at my humor. But that is just it—she gets it. All of it. All of me. Rocking back up onto my knees, I run my finger up her wet slit. “Are you good, really?”
“Take them out now, please.”
I humor her because I can. I have no plans of taking her sweet ass tonight. I will need days to recover, and I want her with me. The fact is we do not have time for that right now, but she isn’t the Dom—she isn’t the planner. That is me. Taking the jewelry out fucks with her head, and I like fucking with her pretty little noggin.
She curiously stares as I adeptly take out both piercings. I have done it so much, I can do it blindfolded. I bend and kiss her flower softly as I remove her lowest two hoops putting them on my pinky finger. I kiss each one and let my eager tongue thrust into her wetness.
Lifting her hips, I hold her in the air as my mouth has its way with her body. Her hands clutch my hair, begging for more as her legs fall against my back. I am a relentless bastard and don’t stop, focusing on her clit for a moment and thrusting my tongue inside. I cannot stop her orgasm as she grabs for me and rocks against my face. She grins as I gaze up. My face soaks with her come, and I intend on savoring as much of it as possible.
“I am really, really, really fucking good.”
Taking my apadravya post, I connect one side to the other, essentially locking her opening closed. There is no getting in her now—the symbolism clear. No accidents with her lips pinned together. I work my way back up her body, kissing her belly and dipping into her navel. I linger longingly on one nipple and roll the other between my fingers. Kissing her soft, I took her left hand into mine, holding it. I slip my hoop onto her ring finger.
“More than words,” I breathe into her mouth.
Amongst the tears, she giddily says, “You are always giving them to me.”
I admit, “I have about a hundred…”
“Am I…”
I know her question aches with the fear of the unknown. “The only one who ever gets my dick piercings… What do you think?”
“I hope I am,” she mutters, holding my hand.
“You are beautiful, angel,” I assure, pulling her close. “Contrary to anything else, you are the only one.”
Knowing the last kiss would come all too soon, she lets it all go in my hands. “I love you so much Sal.” She grabs me—holding me against her for a long time—as the raw emotions from our months of love and war lead us here. There is no stopping us from erupting in a shower of sparks as her waters attempt to douse and calm my flames—seeking to take the control—but that is where she is flawed. There is no calming the fire; the control is out of my hands.
Looking down at her fragile body lying next to me, I wipe her tears away with my hand. “Iris Amarie, I love you so fuckin’ much.”
“Oh, my god,” she cries, squealing against my chest. “Why are we so dumb?”
“What do you mean?” I tilt my head inquisitively.
“I mean why couldn’t I have just listened to your drunk ass that night?”
“Because, angel, we weren’t ready,” I say, helping her straddle me. “We had to lose to learn.”
In my arms, she cries, “Now, I am going to be stuck here for six months without you.”
“Only because when I figure out who is threatening you, I am going on a murderous rampage.”
“But you know Jack…”
My expression turns dark to match the words I say, “I know you are going to sleep with Jack. I know you already have. But it doesn’t change the fact that I love you. We are a team. We will get through this.”
I kiss her with a brush of my lips that taste like a promise. And as she rolls down, I pull her into my arms and hold her until she calms.
The clock ticks and time slowly dwindles away. The last thing she wants is to stay here, but we will get through this and be all the better for it in the end. I am a high maintenance guy, but I am not a fool. If we run off again, we best just stay gone for good. She doesn’t know how severe my punishment was for our three-week stunt. I am lucky even to be seeing her now.
Salt Kissed Love (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 1) Page 20