MidnightInk-epub

by MI

  She smiled. He smiled back. He was wickedly pleased, she could see on his face. She wanted to please…and still wanted to fight it. But the need to please was winning.

  “Stay right here,” he told her.

  He backed away, giving her one last look before going to the big rack of chains against one wall of the club. He piled the heavy lengths of chain over his massive shoulder, so many she didn’t know how even a man of his size could hold it all, then he turned back to her. Her heart was pounding.

  “You do like chain?” he asked, humor on his face. But panic was welling inside her.

  “Don’t,” she said, the word coming out before she knew she was going to say it. She couldn’t help it, suddenly.

  He raised a pale brow. “What was that?”

  Her jaw was so damn tight it hurt. “Don’t do it. Don’t make me into a piece of wall art, like all those slaves. I won’t do it. I’m no slave girl.”

  He was quiet while he laid the chain out on the floor. Had she fucked this up? Was he going to end the scene before they’d even really started? Find some other, more compliant woman for the night? Why did she care so damn much?

  Finn straightened up and watched her for several moments, trying to sort out where she was at. Her sapphire eyes were big and round, blazing and laced with fear at the same time. Beautiful. Intriguing—the beauty and the fear, the anger he saw simmering beneath the surface.

  “Mick told me as much. So did you. Do you think I’d violate the terms of negotiations?”

  “I…no.”

  He looked at her carefully, searching her face. “Are we still good? Or are you safe-wording, ending the scene?”

  “No. I’m not safe wording. I want to continue.”

  There was a stubborn set to her pixie-like jaw even as she said it. He liked that about her—watching the struggle. She would be a challenge, as Mick had said. But he found he was enjoying it—that she wasn’t the type to simply fall at his feet and do his bidding. There was something, he sort of hated to admit, that made it more interesting to be faced with the challenge Roisin presented. That and her undeniable beauty.

  Her breasts that were so damn round and perfect…Oh, that was a mystery to unravel—literally—if only he could get past the unspoken boundary of the tape on the nipples. What must they look like? Feel like? Taste like? But that knowledge would come later. What a delicious pleasure to have to wait, to hold that sense of anticipation in his hands as he touched her.

  Meanwhile, he had the rest of her in front of him—every tiny, nearly naked inch—and he intended to use her very well.

  He pulled his good padded leather suspension cuffs from his bag, nodded his chin, and she knew to hold her wrists out for him while he buckled them on, adjusted them to her birdlike bones, checked for circulation. And as soon as he had her cuffed, he could see a sheen over her eyes that signaled the first real level of subspace. Interesting how the cuffs took her down to that floating, dreamlike place.

  Her pupils widened when he came back from his toy bag with another spreader bar and a pair of leather shackles. Very quickly he buckled the shackles around her ankles, adjusted them, pausing only to caress her slender ankles, her tiny feet with the toes painted a dark red, then clipped one ankle to each end of the spreader bar, forcing her legs wide apart.

  He stood and leaned in close to her. She was panting a bit.

  “You’re fighting it, aren’t you?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “I don’t mind. I rather like you being a little afraid of me, of the shackles, of your own helplessness. Of the things you crave. The things you are about to give yourself over to.”

  “I’m not afraid. Of anything,” she said, her jaw tight, her eyes flashing sparks.

  “Aren’t you? We’re all afraid of something, pretty girl. Even me.”

  Too close to the truth. Why had he said that aloud?

  But it was true. It was an intriguing mind fuck for them both, with him being so unused to playing with this kind of girl. Her struggle was incredibly hot. He had to ignore the pulsing in his cock as he watched her—those lovely breasts rising and falling, her pupils enormous.

  “Let’s play with that fear, shall we?”

  He moved in even closer and grasped her hair at the back of her head, right at the scalp, pulling fast, forcing her head back and elongating her lovely throat. At the same time he found a pressure point on the back of her knee and dug his fingers in.

  “God damn it, that hurts!”

  She started to strain against her bonds, but he released the pressure point and placed a soft kiss on her neck before releasing her to finish what he was doing.

  “Cuffs feel alright?” he asked as he bent to pick up a length of chain.

  “Yes. The damn cuffs are fine.”

  “Yes, what, Roison?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Stronger this time. Oh, she really was fighting it, and the kiss after the brutal hair-pulling had accomplished exactly what he wanted it to.

  That and he hadn’t been able to resist her gorgeous, pale skin. She’d tasted like warm vanilla. He licked his lips. She was still there.

  Fucking focus, mate.

  “Mick warned me, but the attitude is going to have to go, sweetheart. I’m sure you know there will be consequences.”

  “I’m sure I do,” she muttered. “Sir.”

  He grinned to himself as he began to build a frame from the chain—hanging a length from the end of the spreader bar holding her wrists, leading it down to the bar to which her ankles were cuffed, using metal carabiner clips to hold it all in place. He did the same on the other side, the chains glinting in the colored lights as he worked.

  He could see she was taking herself through some breathing exercises designed to calm herself.

  Good girl.

  Jesus, what a good girl…amazing girl, despite her bratiness. Or maybe because of it.

  Focus.

  He took another length of chain and wrapped it around her waist, using the carabiners to clip it tight and leading the ends to the hanging chains on either side of her body before clipping them there. It was more decorative than anything, but the weight of the chains was a kind of bondage in itself, he knew.

  He came around to the front of her and tilted her chin in his hand, checked her eyes. She blinked at him with those heavy lashes. It made his dick hard. Even harder seeing the fire still in her eyes.

  Have to have this girl later. Fucking have to.

  “Still with me, sweetheart?”

  “Yes. Still with you.”

  “You are to tell me if you need a drink of water. If you panic. If the chains become too heavy. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Sir. I understand.”

  “I’m going to flog you now.”

  He felt the tension in her jaw melt away beneath his fingertips.

  “Yes, please…”

  Yes. Have to have her. But first…

  He pulled one of his lighter leather floggers from his kit—it had narrow, square-cut tails and would sting nicely. He stood behind her, trying not to get distracted by her perfectly delectable ass, which was decorated with a pair of swallows, one at the top of each rounded cheek.

  He began a slowly building rhythm on her upper back and shoulders to warm her up, moving from soft blows to harder ones, picking up the pace as he went.

  She was quiet at first, even as the harder hits made her body bow a bit under the pressure. He let it build, eventually reaching a fast cadence, the leather making a hard slapping sound on her flesh and making a cross-hatch of pink welts on her pretty, pale flesh. He paused to smooth a hand over her heated skin. So soft. He listened for her breathing. It was a little faster now, but she remained silent. Still. Well, he’d take care of that. He pulled his arm back, held the tips of the tails in his other hand, then let it go like a slingshot.

  She gasped.

  He smiled. Did it again. And again. Soon she was dancing in her bonds—bonds he’d left enough room in so he could see her move. H
e loved this dance some bottoms did under the pain. When he felt she needed a moment to breathe, to deal with the pain and let the reactive flood of endorphins do their job, he stopped and hung the flogger over his shoulder, ran his hands over her body once more. Absolutely beautiful skin, so fair and fragile-looking. He heard a very soft moan from her as he stroked her back.

  His cock jumped.

  All it took was one quiet moan and he was already going a little crazy with the need to fuck her.

  Soon enough.

  Keeping a hand on her back, he bent and exchanged the flogger for a small slapper made of two pieces of wide, flat leather joined together at one end with a D-ring. A small toy with a lot of impact, if used correctly.

  He reached into her hair again and pulled hard at the scalp, making her whimper.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked her.

  “Yes…”

  “Too much?”

  “Not enough.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, I do like you, Roisin.”

  He moved around to the front of her, keeping his fingers buried tightly in her hair. He wanted to watch her, to see her face. And he needed to work those pretty breasts.

  He pulled her hair hard, forcing her head back. Harder, forcing her back to arch.

  “Ah!”

  “Does it hurt, sweetheart?”

  “Yes, it fucking hurts.”

  “But you like it.”

  “Yes,” she gasped as he gave hard tug.

  He bent and kissed her neck once more, tasting her with the tip of his tongue, vanilla simmering on his lips. She moaned low in her throat. He knew if he reached down between her thighs she’d be wet. But he’d let that wait—make her wait for that.

  He slid his tongue down to the shallow hollow at the base of her throat, paused to swirl it there, then kissed his way back up to the tender spot behind her ear.

  “Tell me what you want,” he whispered.

  “I want…I want the pain,” she answered, a hitch in her voice. “I want you to hurt me. I need it. And I want you to touch me.”

  “Ah, good girl. Perfect girl, maybe.”

  Why had he said that? But it felt true in some inexplicable way. He’d just met her. Had hardly touched her yet. But he wanted her with a fierceness he’d never felt for any woman before.

  Control.

  Yes. Control was what kept him safe. Kept the world safe from him. Especially pretty little girls like Roisin.

  But she was so fucking beautiful he could hardly stand it. So responsive, despite that underlying need to deny her own desires, to fight it, to give him hell. Even as she told him what she wanted, her body had tensed all over.

  He was fucking hard all over, his cock, every muscle in his body, responding to this woman.

  He shook his head, pulled her hair even harder until she let out a sharp gasp. Then he was on her. Filling one hand with her lush breast and squeezing, kneading, using his fingertips on the pressure points beneath her breast, while with the other he reached behind her and used the leather slapper on her ass, smacking her with swift, powerful, relentless strokes.

  It was only his years of experienced that allowed him any control as he kissed her neck, her breasts, her shoulders. Then he was biting her between the kisses, his teeth digging into her skin, making her cry out. He knew his teeth would leave marks deep in her flesh, marks that would last for a month. He loved the idea—it drove him on, made him bite her harder, made the kisses more tender. It was like some mad make-out session, except that she was chained up, under his command, helpless beneath what he knew was an onslaught, but he couldn’t stop himself.

  She was moaning, squirming in pain. Squirming with pleasure. And he was so fucking hard he thought that his cock might tear free from his jeans, that he could come all over her without even fucking her, like some teenager.

  Chapter Three

  Oh, God, she thought she could come from pure sensation overload—the slapper against her flesh, hard and hurting until she could barely take it. His big hand on her breast, working the full flesh, rubbing and scratching at her hard nipple through the tape. And his mouth…oh, his mouth was making her crazy, his teeth so damn sharp, making her yell, making her throat raw. His lips soft, his tongue so wet and…perfect. Jesus, if only he’d use his mouth on her…just get down between her thighs and plunge inside her.

  “Oh…” she groaned.

  He slid his tongue lower, in the space between her breasts, and bit into her breast, small nibbles that led to deeper bites, digging his teeth into her needy flesh.

  “Yes,” she whispered, letting her head fall back as she welcomed it all—pain and pleasure and him.

  He let the slapper fall from his hand and dug his fingers into the back of her thigh, hard, finding the pressure points there once more. It fucking hurt, enough to make her yell again, a low growl that hurt her throat.

  “Yes…Finn…Sir…” she panted.

  He seemed to take it as permission. He bit her so damn hard she almost had to safe-word—her breasts, her stomach, her shoulders. She was gasping, groaning, nearly screaming. As soon as she thought she really couldn’t take any more he’d pause to lick her skin, to bathe the hurting spots with his sleek tongue. At the same time he was scraping his nails over the skin on her ass, her thigh, her hip, growling at her in answer to her cries. It was fantastic, sensation pouring through her almost faster than she could process it. All she knew was that it hurt. It felt so damn good. She was soaking wet.

  “Please,” she begged.

  He pulled her body in tight to his, and it was exactly what she wanted. Oh yes, exactly. His body was solid all over, the hard ridge of his erection pressing into her stomach. Jesus, she’d never felt a wall of muscle like this man. And he held her so damn tight she could barely breathe.

  He buried a hand in her hair and yanked back once more, his mouth on her throat demanding compliance. And she gave it, gave in to him. She couldn’t help herself.

  She gave. Let it all fall away, until there was nothing but her and him and sensation. She gave it all up for the first time in her life. And forgot for the moment to be scared of anything.

  Her mind was emptying. She felt too good to care. To question that she didn’t.

  Finn’s arms were crushingly tight around her, and there was a safeness about his grip on her that was something like being bound in the chains around her waist.

  Crazy.

  Crazier still when his mouth hovered over hers.

  “Roison.”

  “Mmm…what?”

  “We didn’t fucking negotiate kissing.” His voice was rough, edgy.

  “No.”

  “You’re saying no?”

  “I’m saying yes.”

  He paused.

  “Finn…kiss me, God damn it!”

  “Christ, girl,” he muttered before crushing her mouth with his.

  Oh, it was good. His lips were hard and soft at the same time, his big hands wrapping her up in their grasp. She opened for his tongue and it slipped into her mouth like silk. She sucked it in, released it so he could explore. And Lord, the man could kiss. If she hadn’t been wet before, she was soaked now. Needing.

  She pulled against the cuffs, wanting to press closer, but his hard body was already tight against hers, and she could feel his erection straining.

  Yes, please…

  She was going to fucking beg him for it.

  He pulled back so suddenly she would have fallen had she not been chained up.

  “God bloody damn it, girl.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “What? I…Finn?”

  “No. You’re fine. You’re fucking amazing, is what you are. I just need to…get back on track. Take a breath. Both of us.” He ran a hand over his spiky hair while she tried to adjust to what had just happened. He was pleased with her—he’d said so. But he was obviously trying to get things under control again.

  She didn’t want him to.

  Tears burned at the back of h
er eyes. Tears! When was the last time she’d cried over anything? And never because she wanted a man so badly it hurt.

  His expression was torn, his mouth soft and loose. His blue eyes glittered as he narrowed them and took a step back.

  Whether he’d meant it literally or not, she pulled in a deep breath, let it out slowly. She had to calm the hell down.

  “Good girl,” he said, those two simple words nearly undoing her again. “Breathe it out. Let’s dial it down.”

  He released his hold on her and her skin went cold where his hands, strong and full of heat, had been. She took another breath.

  This is just play. Play and desire.

  But it was something more—oddly more.

  Don’t think about it.

  Finn placed his palm on her chest, fingers splayed over her thundering heart. “I need to whip you.”

  Her pulse jumped.

  She wanted it. She loved the whip. And frankly, she wanted whatever he did right now.

  She nodded.

  Some part of her knew she was completely out of her head. She didn’t care.

  He stepped away for a moment. Then he was behind her, his hand stroking her back, her waist, her buttocks. She closed her eyes, gloried in the sensation of skin against skin. And suddenly his big arm was tight around her neck, cutting off some of her air, pulling her head back against his chest.

  “Are you ready, pretty girl?”

  “Yes,” she gasped.

  “Good. Because I think you know I want you so fucking bad it hurts. And I’m going to take some of that raging need out on your lovely hide. Say yes, Roison.”

  “Yes. Yes, Sir…”

  He leaned in and brushed a warm kiss across her cheek, then she felt nothing but cool air.

  She waited, counting her heartbeats.

  One, two, three, four, five…

  She heard the crack before the leather hit her skin, the intense pain a lovely shock that echoed deep in her body, then shimmered again in waves. She breathed her way through it, riding out the pain until the endorphins kicked in. Somehow she managed not to scream. Then there was the sweet sensation of his hand stroking her skin over the hot welt she felt rising already.