Chapter 18

“Do I want to know why you were following Treacle?” Larial asked, while walking across the rubber mats in a red silken robe, with a glass of port in his hand.

Wrists lashed together and attached to an eyebolt in the ceiling, Felicity hung, swaying on her toes. Naked, with her raven hair in a tight braid draping her spine, those delightful curves glimmered in the dim lighting, and the rush of desire flooded him once more. But there was something at play, and he’d become shy of mysteries.

When he snatched the woven tresses, she jerked, and her eyes flashed at him. With a growl, she twisted and shoved, but the bindings kept her from thrusting those dark, angry nipples into him.

“Hmm, that’s the hungry slut I know,” he murmured, tapping her shaking lips with his.

Even as she moaned, trying again to press into him, he removed his mouth. After releasing her, he enjoyed a sip of the delightful vintage and inspected her slow-spinning frame. Entranced as she was, it took a while for her glittering tongue to retract. When he glanced at the coiled, shiny black leather resting on a nearby table, she followed his gaze and shuddered. Yet despite the hunger filling her eyes, she remained silent. So very well trained.

“No whip until you give me something,” he said before taking a further drink.

“M-Maybe I was, um, following your son.” A quiet, shaky laugh left her. “He’s quite the stud. You said he could have—”

“Humph.”

He took another gulp and lowered the glass to the table. His hand moved to the coiled bullwhip.

“T-Takes after his father,” she murmured, eyes tracking him as he lifted the slender rawhide.

When it unfurled, the end of the lengthy leather sliding onto the floor, a hiss slipped through her teeth. At the flick of his wrist and its sudden crack, she shook. Fueled by that unholy need, a moan tore from her shaking lips, and he laughed.

“Now, sweetheart.” He walked closer, lifting the whip. “I realize you love this game, but really.”

As he rolled the glossy rawhide handle over one, then the other juddering breast, mashing their stiff nipples, her moaning became a lengthy staggering groan. Her eyes widened as he drew the rounded pommel down the center of her body. As it prodded just above shiny, swollen flesh, he smiled.

“Aiden’s mother” left her in the tiniest of whispers.

“What about her?”

He sniffed, running the fattened base over a silken thigh, then the other. Desperation rising, she twisted, trying to capture it. Sweat broke free of her drawn-back sable hair, racing down both reddening cheeks. Yes, naughty fallen one, she’d be more than happy to fuck the handle if he let her.

“She was your side’s bright idea,” he muttered.

“You slept with her.”

After speaking, she moaned, swaying into the stiff leather, chasing it in a circle as he ran it around her waist. Above her, the bindings creaked. Her toenails scratched on the rubber. More glossy beads appeared across her gleaming skin, then formed shiny rivulets to speed down those wonderful curves.

“Hmm, you’re the one who convinced me to do that.”

Before she could reply, he poked between her firm ass cheeks. Even as she began thrusting backward into it, he eased the whip away. Once more, she’d become the most playful of toys.

“It ... It was your, um, mission,” she murmured. “The Woman sent you to her.”

“So, you think She knew?”

As he eased the hard leather along her spine, she tried to hold herself from spinning. Her toes splayed, and the bindings trembled as the bound angel, his beloved, struggled to keep her addiction on ever-slicker skin.

“Mmm, oh, pl...”

When her lips smacked together, he grinned; she knew better. Pleading would simply result in him leaving her alone again for another hour or two. From the sheen sliding down her thighs and the odor of sweetness flooding the room, she couldn’t last much longer. Eyelashes fluttering ever-quicker, she was tiptoeing along the edge of madness, both right where he needed her and where she adored meandering.