by M. S. Willis
Her head rolled in his direction, the sluggish movement youthful and endearing. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to beg you not to fuck me?” Her gold eyes flicked open but remained hooded. “Where I say I’ll tell you everything if you’ll just spare me my dignity?”
He thought about her words. Smiling, he replied, “Well, it would make things easier.”
“Fuck you.” The corners of her lips curled. “You’re wasting your time, unless it’s for your own benefits more so than for making me talk.” Her speech was slow, slurred, but he appreciated the intelligence that remained hidden behind the fog he’d created in her head. However, his dissatisfaction with her continued fight rubbed irritatingly across his nerves.
Slipping his hand between her legs, he slid upwards against the skin, pinching it between his thumb and finger while the other fingertips gripped into the muscle of her thigh. Her head rolled back, her body arching slightly in response to the hints of pleasurable pain he was forcing through her. Reaching the apex of her thighs, he pulled up, barely brushing against the flesh, his eyes taking in how her body responded to every soft touch.
Running his hand over the slight curve to her stomach, he stopped at her ribs, tracing his fingertip along her breast. His words came out in a throaty whisper. “I don’t need to fuck you to get inside you, Hope. I know what you like, what excites your body despite your hatred of me. I know your dirty little secret, the one you use to your advantage.”
Her eyes widened as much as the haze would allow and she looked at him, focused on the features of his face and appeared to study him; every expression, every movement. He enjoyed these moments; ones where she was between doses, when hints of her drive and personality peeked through the fog until the next wave of euphoria returned her to oblivion. He pressed his hand up until it covered her breast and, after taking the soft skin on the side between his fingers, he bent down to bite on the hardened tip while pinching at the side. His tongue laved across the tip and she arched up almost instantly, the flexibility of her body apparent in the way it bent towards him. While continuing to work at her breast, to apply just enough pressure to awaken the nerve that ran to her core, he looked up at her. Her lip curled up, her teeth grit together. Her hands wrapped into the chains to which they were secured and she writhed, silently begging for more, for a sharper high — a stronger hit to her system in order to induce the rush of blood and endorphins that came after it. His body shivered over her, his own rushing blood creating in him an inferno of desperate want. He enjoyed overtaking her, empowered by not only dominating her, but for sending her to heights he wasn’t sure she’d reached before.
When he released her breast, he pushed up to sit over her, wiping the moisture from his mouth before placing his hand on the bed next to her head. Her hair was spread across the sheets, the silk of it wrapping around his fingers. He tugged and watched as aftershocks of pleasure rolled across her prickled skin. Bringing his mouth to her ear, he knew she could feel the heat of his body wash over her — the power to the beat of his heart where he pressed his chest against hers.
“Your strength is also your weakness. You’re able to endure because you like the pain, but you like it a bit too much don’t you?” He bit down on her earlobe, felt her chest collide against his from the movement of her body. “I’m sure no man lived long enough to discover that secret; but I did, and I intend to use it to my advantage as well.” Pushing up, he looked down into the enraged gold. “You can kill me tomorrow if you win — but I can promise you that if I win, I’ll fuck the shit out of you before you tell me what I want to know.”
Removing his weight from her, he held himself above her and watched as she settled from the pain he’d granted. Her lips curled slightly and parted from her heavy breath. He heard the chains shake from the movement of her arms and legs, her ass grinding down into the mattress, moving in a manner meant to seduce and entice. It was carnal and it was raw — a woman overtaken by her body’s darkest needs.
Her mouth moved, but her words were barely discernable. The pink tip of her tongue flicked out to run along her lip. He tracked its movement, gripped his hand into the mattress to ease the ache of want it ignited inside him.
“Again.”
It was faint and he almost believed he didn’t hear it, but when she repeated it, stronger, slower, he looked at her and smiled.
He responded to her just as slow and assured. “Will you beg?” His eyes searched hers. Every so often, light would spark off the gold making them appear metallic.
Her eyes rolled back slightly, before she blinked and refocused on his face. “Again.”
Dark laughter rolled within his chest. She wasn’t begging, but she wasn’t giving up either. He was suddenly glad he wasn’t a better man; refusing because she was drugged would have been difficult if he had been. Trailing one hand down her stomach, he kept his gaze locked to hers. The tips of his fingers slipped beneath the thin patch of material and she shook her head. “No … not …”
“Shhhh. I know what you need.” It was a resolute vow that he whispered to her.
And he did. It was exactly like Maddy had said; you could recognize it — Hope’s darkness. Her body reacted to pain and torment like it was a lover’s touch. She craved it; was starved for it. Nothing could take her to the same peaks. She needed it to remain sane.
Moving down her body, he trailed his lips over her abdomen, allowing his teeth to graze across the skin. Ripping the last bit of material from her body, he didn’t take his time to run his finger down along the skin, discovering how ready her body had become. A growl emanated from his chest and he breathed in deeply the smell of her skin. When he reached her hip, he bit down on the skin, her body bucking up in response to the feel of his teeth on her the delicate nerve endings. His fingers dug into the tight muscle of her ass and thigh, and he shuddered to feel it move within his grip, to tighten. Her body was perfection; strong and lean, every tendon, every muscle and fiber within her developed and honed to fight. His hands gripped her legs, forcing them apart, bearing her to his eyes, his hands, his mouth. She moaned above him, the effects of the drugs heightening her reactions making her hyperaware of every brush of his hand across her body, every drag of his fingernail against her skin. Unable to resist, he covered her, allowing the heat of his mouth to sink into the sensitized flesh, allowing his tongue to flick out and tease the skin.
Her taste was divinity, ambrosia intended for men far more worthy than him — quite possibly too good for any man at all. He lapped at it, desperate to fill his mouth with her essence, her need. Holding her down, his hands preventing her hips from moving beneath him, completely overpowering her efforts to demand more. The chains rattled and he looked up to see her hands grasping desperately to the sheets, her breasts swollen and throbbing for his touch, for his abuse.
Slipping one finger within the heat of her body, his groaned in appreciation of the muscles rippling down, gripping at him at tightly as his other gripped in the skin of her leg.
“Fuck.” He breathed out the word without being able to stop himself. Working her body, plunging his hand deeply, only to tease and twist her up inside, he asked, “Is every part of your body so fucking strong?” He’d never felt anything like it, her grip becoming almost painful when he finally slipped a second finger inside.
The sounds that escaped her lips were driving him to a point of painful frustration. The material of his pants had become offensive and tight across his cock. She was a trigger ready to be pulled and he wanted to bury himself inside, to feel and experience her body as it milked him, devoured him when she was lost inside a rapturous deluge of heat, ecstasy and carnal need.
Pulling away, he reached up, pinching the small bundle of nerves at the top, applying enough pressure that would make most women scream, but Hope seemed to absorb it, her skin flushing red and white, stretching taut across her twisting frame. She was wound too tight, small quakes rolling through her, her breath escaping her in moans as she panted errati
cally. Fuck, if she wasn’t the model of perfection, then Xander didn’t believe it could ever truly exist.
Kissing along the inside of her thigh, he squeezed down on the small bundle while at the same time, sinking his teeth into the delicate skin of her inner leg. When the minute hint of iron met his tongue, when he had to stop himself from biting down harder to taste more, she screamed. He slammed his finger back inside to feel the exquisite strength of her core while her body tensed above him. The chains rattled across the sheets and her chest seized with her stolen breath. He released her leg, looked up to watch her face twist with blissful passion and dangerous heights.
And he lost his ability to resist.
His hands made quick work of his shirt and pants, tearing the cloth from his body, his muscles tense across his bones and his cock so fucking hard that he feared just lightly touching it would send him crashing through into the same agonizing release he’d just witnessed her endure. He crawled back over her, his hands coming down on her arm, his mouth trailing over her neck, nipping and biting until he covered her mouth with his, his tongue demanding dominance over hers, his teeth scraping over her swollen lips. He growled out a command into her mouth, refusing to release the contact.
“Beg for it.”
He positioned himself at the opening to her body, teased her by sliding within, but never truly filling her or stretching out the muscles that throbbed hungrily for him to bury himself inside. He wanted to break her, to shame her, to make her plead for him to take her and control her — to fucking own her.
He brought his mouth to her ear, bit down on the lobe sending small hints of the wave that would wash over her if he bit harder. Blowing lightly against her heated and sweat-soaked skin, he commanded her again.
“Beg for me, Hope …”
Chapter Ten
Bit and pieces flashed in her mind: the deep brown of his hair, the violent edge to his cheekbone and jaw, the way the muscles of his body rippled along his frame when he moved, reminiscent of a prowling threat, a hunter who stalks in the shadows.
He hovered above her, his chest colliding against the tips of her breasts and wave after wave of sensation drove itself through her; the smallest touch eliciting anticipation of his painful strike. Every inch of her skin was desperate and on fire, the nerves so awake that his breath brushing over her body felt like ice.
“Beg for me, Hope.”
The words were jumbled. They resonated from deep within something far from where she lay, but she wanted him back, closer, touching her, driving her. She floated inside a bubble of fire and ice, of day and night. Thought was obsolete and meaningless, the only things necessary were pleasure … and pain. She’d beg, now that she’d been pushed to a point of abandon and carelessness, she’d beg for more, for it never to end. Her strength was her weakness, and now that he’d discovered it, he forced her body to betray her, to mock her for how feeble her mind had become.
“Please.” Her plea was muffled by her intoxication and she opened her eyes to see his wicked grin. He didn’t look real. He wore his strength and command over her like he would a piece of clothing, every inch of his skin sticky with masculinity and power. Drops of sweat dripped down his brow, sliding along his skin, breaking apart against the stubble of his jaw. She’d trembled when he’d raked his cheek along the inside of her thigh and she wanted to feel it over her breasts as his teeth bit into the tips.
“Please what?” He laughed softly and his words vibrated through his chest, tickling her skin where he touched her. Every few seconds he would run his length between her thighs, tempting and teasing her — promising to fill her so full, her own body would break apart around him and her mind would shatter within her skull.
“Break me … please”
His eyes widened in reaction to her words, surprise flitting across his features before his pupils dilated and his eyes appeared black. Small streams of light flickered across their skin, absorbed by shadow as they moved. In one swift push forward, he stretched her to limits she’d never known; the delicate skin torn by his girth, the salt of his skin seeping into the fissures, the light caress of discomfort and torment. It was enough to sedate her, to cripple her, to stop every bodily function so that she only knew the sensation of him sinking inside. His hand curled into the hair at the base of her skull and fire ran across her skin, her head pulled back, her neck stretched and taut. When his teeth sank into the skin, already stretched to a point of tearing, she exploded around him, a volcano erupting within her body, the slice of steel and brush of velvet. His fingers raked down along the skin of her back as her body violently arched into him, she needed more, another push, another fix of the numbing effect of the pain. She wanted to become lost within his tempestuous storm — dominated, controlled, a puppet tied to strings made of glass and razors, of satin and fur.
He breathed out hard above her, the brush of his breath relieving the inescapable heat of her inflamed skin. Her body writhed and contorted, each muscle flexing and relaxing, she’d become nothing more than a tool of pleasure, a soul in need of torment.
A scream built in her chest until it pressed up into her throat, eventually tearing from her mouth into his. He pulled her hair tighter, bent her neck back impossibly farther until forcing her to release around him and over him. Still trembling within the waves of exquisite oblivion, she heard him and felt him growl, his teeth sinking once again into her skin as he powered forward one last time.
~ ~ ~
Her eyes rolled back in her head and he gripped her hair so tight, it cut into the skin of his hands. Her neck was bent so far back, he knew that with the tiniest flick of his wrist he could snap her spine — and she wanted more, needed more. She was a woman designed to ache for the sadist hidden inside him.
Reaching his own peak, he released inside her, claiming her as his pet, his prize. He watched her face contort, waves of pleasure rushing down her body, small quakes still shaking her beneath him. His palm slid down her cheek, fingers digging trails along her neck until he could wrap his hand around, push his thumb into her pulse, feel her heart thunder through her body for him.
Placing soft kisses on her face, he watched her become lost to obscurity — a nirvana created in her mind from the rush of blood poisoned by passion, fueled by the drugs and forced by his hand. Allowing his forehead to lay atop hers, he grinned to see her eyes move beneath the lids, to hear the small moans escaping her lips while she lay trapped in the euphoric state in which he’d placed her and had allowed her to go.
The next noise he heard was like a shot to the heart and to the head. The front doors were being beaten against by someone’s fist.
“Fuck!” Pushing up from the bed, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist to answer the door. He swung it open, the movement so fast and violent that his rage was pouring out into his strength. “What!”
Emerald green blinked back at him, a blank expression on Aaron’s face except for the hint of fury hidden behind his jewel toned eyes.
“Where is she?”
It took a second for Xander to shake himself of the hormones in his blood and clouding his mind. Stepping back, he allowed Aaron to enter the living room, noticed how Aaron’s eyes surveyed the candles peppered throughout the room before turning back to him. “The bitch. Where. The fuck. Is she?”
Xander tensed, his back straightening in response to the question. “She’s here.”
Aaron’s eyes slowly opened and closed, his disapproval instantly visible across the features of his face. Looking down at Xander’s naked state, he commented, “I can see that. What I would now like to know is why she’s here.”
“We need information.”
“Did you get it?”
“No.”
They stared at each other, neither man moving or blinking. Aaron was the first to speak again. “Is she bound?”
Xander motioned towards the bedroom. “You’re welcome to check. If she can escape those binds, then she deserves her freedom.”
“You were supposed to be getting information out of her, not fucking her senseless!”
Xander couldn’t suppress his grin. “I’m taking care of both.”
There was no amusement in Aaron’s expression when he ordered, “Get dressed and be in my quarters in fifteen minutes. We have some issues to discuss. Jason will be joining us as well.”
Xander nodded his understanding and didn’t turn with Aaron marched around him and out of the apartment. When the door slammed behind him, Xander let out an annoyed sigh. Cursing under his breath, he moved to his closet, quickly dressing in black sweat pants and a t-shirt. Walking past the bed, he sat down on the side of the mattress, cupping Hope’s cheek with his palm. She smiled and pushed her face against the heat of his hand.
Looking down, he whispered, “I’ll miss this side of you when you wake, because I know you’ll hate me in the morning.”
~ ~ ~
“You instructed that I make her talk. You weren’t specific in those instructions except to say that I should employ any method that I decided would be useful.” He paused before quickly adding, “And I believe I was also instructed to seduce her.”
“That was Maddy!”
“Whatever.”
Aaron’s face had turned from red to purple at the flippancy of Xander’s response. He stepped closer to Xander until both men were nose to nose. Their bodies straight, their muscles tense and their feet set in a position to balance them when they fought. The pitch of Aaron’s voice was dangerously low when he asked, “How exactly is drugging her and fucking her going to make her talk? She was unconscious when I saw her. How, exactly, do you intend to pull information out of a limp body?”