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“What, baby?”
“Make me feel things.” My voice drips with hope and I gulp.
Mischief and a sheer look of maliciousness cross his features.
“Close your eyes.” I hear his footsteps retreating and reentering the room. A few seconds later, a soft material covers my eyes as adrenaline surges in my veins.
I feel him push my body back until I’m lying on the bed. He ties what I assume is his belt around my wrists.
“I bought a leather flogger. Do you want me to use it on you?” I nod and he continues, “If you want me to stop, just say so.”
He turns on music with a dark, sensual vibe, completely changing the room’s atmosphere. It calls for a different experience, lifting the hairs all over my body, my heart accelerating with the tempo of the song along with the anticipation of what Damon will do to me next.
I swallow, wondering what he’s doing. My tied wrists lay over my head. He flicks his tongue down there, the warmth of it sending me to a magical world.
He lifts my leg over his shoulder, and I’m a quivering mess when he presses his tongue over the sensitive flesh between my pussy lips.
Soon he’s teasing the flogger over those lips.
I moan, my body jerking in response.
“You want to feel, Gemma?” The smack of the leather makes me arch my back, the feel of it against my clit leading me to the throes of pleasure and pain. My mind is a dark canvas with one word written in white capitals—Damon.
He’s all I can feel, hear, and smell.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
I whimper his name, my wetness cutting the stinging short and extending the gratification.
The absence of the flogger makes me want to beg him to continue. He smears the evidence of my arousal on my inner thighs before moving up to my stomach. Then he reaches my collarbone, and I shiver from the mere act.
My swallows can’t be heard over the music, yet I sense he’s watching every one of my reactions. He skirts the flogger over my throat, up and down, then moves it to my mouth.
“Taste yourself.”
I do. I open my mouth, allowing him to drop the tails of the object. I taste leather, the muskiness of my own cream, and something sweet.
He spends endless minutes pleasuring me, spanking me, tugging and biting on my nipples. By the time he shoves himself in me, I’ve already come twice.
I’m spent, tired, and dizziness washes over me.
Him fucking me blindfolded invites the darkest parts of my soul to come out of their tomb. It measures the extent of my trust for the man, which is ironic considering I was sure he broke it with his secrets.
“Damon,” I whisper his name. His thrusts magnify the slickness of my inside walls. He halts as if waiting for me to tell him to stop. “I want to try breath play.”
Very quickly, my blindfold is lifted, and my eyes adjust to the dimly lit room.
“Christ, Gemma. I already don’t hold your neck like a flower. What more do you want? I won’t make you faint. I won’t risk it.”
I shake my head. “Not faint, just bring me close to it. Then bring me back.” I kiss his lips. “Bring me back, Damon.” I writhe against his hardness filling me.
“Safe breath play takes trust.” He moves inside me again. “I don’t trust you not to surpass your own limits. You have zero fear for your own safety.”
“Please, Damon.”
He closes his eyes and groans, the pace of his thrusts slowing. As soon as he presses his thumb and forefinger on opposite sides of my neck and presses harder, light-headedness clouds my brain like a misty, foggy morning.
“Do you feel it, my little rebel?”
