Page 43 of Tristan’s Temptation

To see it laid out before her was overwhelming.

He leaned closer and whispered in her ear, “You are mine, Shannon. Mine to torment. Mine to please. But first…remove your clothes.”

The balls nearly popped out.

She whirled on him, instinctively covering her breasts with her hands. His face was stony, obdurate. But she could tell he was just playing the part. He wasn’t really the cruel master. Rather her partner in the game. Her game. Lust bubbled in her belly and she dropped her gaze, slipping into her role. “Yes Master.”

He tipped her chin back up. “Louder. I want to hear those words. See them on your lips.”

“Yes…Master.”

“Nice.” He kissed her but it was like no other kiss he’d ever given her. This kiss was hard, commanding. He sucked at her mouth. Thrust in his tongue. Possessed her.

Her mind spun, her body wept.

He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest, observing her coldly. “Well?”

“Well?” Well, what?”

He gestured to her person. “Remove your clothes, slave.”

She shivered. For heaven’s sake. Why did she feel so vulnerable? He’d seen her naked before. Still, she trembled as she complied. It was difficult to slip the dress from her shoulders. Difficult to let it fall in a pool at her feet. Very difficult to remove her bra, one strap at a time.

Even more difficult to meet his gaze when she stood there, bare but for the wisp of her panties.

He stared at her with a hunger that made her heart hitch. The planes of his face were taut with it. His eyes burned. His nostrils flared. She felt the heat in his scrutiny as it skated over her exposed breasts, across her belly and down to her lace-clad cunt. She longed to cover herself but she didn’t.

“Turn around.”

She did. Slowly.

He exhaled in a hiss, stepped closer. His hot hand drew a line of fire on her ass. He massaged one cheek and then another through her panties. She jerked as he landed a little slap. It stung, but only a little. She reveled in the warmth.

“You are so beautiful, Shannon.” Boldly, he caressed her breast. He ended the stroke with a tweak of her nipple and she whimpered. His mastery felt so good. Fed something deep within her.

“Tristan?” She jerked as his warm lips caressed her nape.

“Yes?”

“These balls…they have to come out.”

He chuckled. “Well hell. I completely forgot about those.”

She smacked him. The wretch. She’d been in agony all day.

“Do you want me to do it?”

“No.” She didn’t snap. She never snapped. But she was so tightly wound, if he so much as touched her, she would lose all control.

“You’ll have to take off your panties too, I suppose.”

She shot him a scorching look and slowly eased them off. Dampness trailed all the way down her thighs.

She stood before him, completely naked, and spread her legs. Just spread them.

His face was etched with harsh lust that tightened when, with no prompting at all, the balls slipped out and fell to the carpet with a dull, heavy thud. The sensation, the relief, the ravaging hunger for more made her lightheaded.

His lips thinned, paled. His throat worked. “I want to see you in the chair.”