Stealing His Thunder (Masters of Adrenaline) (8 page)

Oh god, shut up before I burst into flames.

She squirmed in her bonds then held her breath as he brushed the tip of the feather over her pussy lips, careful not to let her get too much stimulation. It was at the point where she was too horny for anything to tickle. He traced the outside of them too, then the seam of her sex, and she moaned in frustration.

“Such a pretty little cunt you have, Addison.”

Fresh desire lanced through her. She was shocked at how a word that usually offended her was so hot out of his dirty fucking mouth.

“Your body is trying to protect you from the big, bad feather, but there’s an easy way to fix that.” He spread her labia further apart with his fingers. It was difficult not to die of arousal and embarrassment as he stared at her so intimately. Far too slowly, he brought the tip of the feather to her, brushing the very tip over the sensitive flesh above her clit hood, then tickling downward. She screamed, trying to backpedal at the overwhelming sensation of the breath-light touches, but the ropes held her exactly where he wanted her.

“It’s only going to get worse,” he warned, shaking his head sadly. “Maybe you should just tell me now, before I make you regret it.”

She frowned.

“Well, that wasn’t a very polite response to my offer.” He shrugged. “That’s what I get for trying to be nice. I’ll remember that.”

He was just fucking with her, right? For a moment her mind raced, trying to figure out how much worse he could possibly make it, but then the feather came down again, stroking gently over her aching clit, downward, to tickle her perineum, then her anus. She cried out again, desperate to get away, but that only seemed to make him pay that part of her more attention.

“No, no, no!” she squeaked, her voice high.

He stopped. “‘No’ isn’t the safeword you chose, Addison. Is your ass off limits?”

Oh god. Well . . . She swallowed hard. It wasn’t necessarily off limits, but it did embarrass the hell out of her. The full body blush that claimed her must have given him a clue.

“I . . . uh . . . haven’t . . .”

Damn him and his wicked smile. “That’s not what I asked you.”

Did she want him to explore her that way? She had a love/hate relationship with the idea of anal—it was hot in porn, but no matter how much fun those girls seemed to be having, it looked . . . uncomfortable.

“You have a safeword,” he reminded her. “And I won’t go too far tonight.”

True. She could safeword at any time. She’d almost forgotten that.

Remembering the feel of the feather touching her there made her squirm, but did she really have to tell him that? Ugh. Why did there have to be so many traitorous nerve endings there?

“I have a safeword,” she repeated, wondering if it was possible to die of humiliation. She really didn’t want to have to verbally agree to being touched there.

The way he watched her suggested he was waiting for her to say more, but no other words wanted to come out. She wasn’t about to make conversation with him about it.

Finally, he gave a nod.

He spread her pussy open again, and just the sensation of the air hitting her aching clit made her whine.

“Your poor little clit is all hard,” he gently mocked, leaning forward to blow warm air over it. She gasped and shuddered—his breath and thinking about his tongue almost tipped her over the edge.

She had to tell him what he wanted to know now, before she started screaming and couldn’t stop. She had to come so bad she could cry.

Let him win?

Determined, she took hold of her self-control. There was no damn way she could let him win this—and not just because she hated to lose, but because she had a sneaking suspicion that when he found out he was going to throttle her.

He took a long moment to select a fresh feather from the black case, apparently in no rush. Fuck. If he’d just pinch her where he was holding her open, she’d come so hard. Just a small amount of pressure on her clit and she’d go off like a Fourth of July fireworks display.

If she’d thought she’d had a handle on her arousal, though, the first touch of the new feather showed her she was deluding herself. Slowly, he followed the patterns he’d already drawn on her, until she could feel the trails it had made, every speck of skin he went over burning and throbbing with desperation. Inner thigh, labia, clit, down to her ass.

He set about teasing her ass, pushing her legs back further until he must have had a pornographic zoom shot of everything she owned. Here and there, he let his fingers stray to touch her, making her buck and whine for him to let her come.

The pervert loved that. Alternating, he moved back and forth between her clit and her ass. Her eyes couldn’t focus, and she began to scream profanity at him, not sure what exactly she wanted him to do. Her mouth was dry from panting, and her throat raw.

“Please, please, Fox. Stop,” she gasped out, trying to shut off her brain so she wouldn’t have to feel the way the feather flitted and slid and circled over her painfully erect clit. It didn’t work.

Lust hazed her vision, but she was painfully aware of every touch. Her body danced for him, squirming and rolling as far as the ropes would allow. The feel of the rope keeping her trapped just as he wanted her, biting into her skin as she struggled—the helplessness and desperation as she fought knots that kept getting tighter—the fact that he ignored her pleas for mercy, all of it tapped deeper into her submission and arousal. It grew, altered. She watched his pretty, rapt face, the artistic movement of his hands, felt the firmness of his touch as he held her open for his pleasure.

All of it was like magic. Like a twisted fairy tale where Prince Charming was an evil, sadistic bastard, with a feather instead of a sword.

And he was killing her with pleasure.

The feather swirled as if it had a mind of its own, tormenting her sensitized skin. She hovered so close to orgasm that she could almost taste it, but then he’d slow down or stop, letting her regroup for a moment before starting again. Higher her arousal spiked, but he kept her there, balanced on the very edge, crooning to calm her in the face of his cruelty. She faded into a fog of suffering, aware her body kept trying to reach him, to get closer to the feather. He didn’t allow it.

“Oh god, please!”

“Tell me what you want, little girl.” His voice was low and rumbly, and she madly wondered if the vibrations in the air could make her come.

“I want . . . I want . . .”
Fuck
. Where was that sentence going? Her thoughts vanished with a flick of his wrist.

“You really want to tell me where you hid the tracking device,” he prompted, “don’t you, Addison?”

A monster orgasm was cresting. Every muscle in her body thrust toward him, trying to get that faint whisper more. The hint of increased pressure that would finally allow her to go over, would give her release—it was right there. So close. So fucking close.

The feather moved away at the last moment and she screamed, fighting the ropes so hard that he held her down. She tried to rub against him, begging with her body and with incoherent grunts. If she could just get him down between her legs she could squirm against him and come. His zipper would hurt like hell and it would be heaven. She needed something, anything. A slap between the legs, a cruel pinch.

She gasped for air, trying to remember how to breathe.

“Shh, baby. Shh. You’re okay.”

No! She was not okay! She shook her head like a madwoman, her hair tangling in her eyes.

“Shh,” he crooned. His voice was soothing, seriously evil, and so damned sexy. “Just answer my little question, Addison, and then I’ll let you come. You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you? I know you do. Your pussy is aching and I can make it all better.”

Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She was so overwhelmed that everything he said sounded like it came from the other side of a door. So reasonable. She just wanted to give in. Every nerve ending in her clit and ass were screaming at her to answer the stupid question. Nothing was worth this impossible ache. Sweat stung her eyes, and she could feel tendrils of hair sticking to her neck.

He grabbed a new feather from the case.

Oh god, no.

She screamed at him, but the first few words she tried weren’t actual words. Finally she managed to scream, “I h-hate you!”

She did? That was news to her. She’d never wanted to fuck someone she hated, but she wanted Fox to fuck her in every way she’d seen in every porno ever. He only chuckled.

“You’ll hate me more in a minute.” His half-lidded dark eyes were frightening and full of lust.

No, no! Not more. Please . . .

He spread her pussy lips open again, and she sobbed. Everything was too sensitive, like nails on a chalk board. She couldn’t take any more of this. Every bit of her pussy and ass tickled and itched and ached. Even though he’d barely gone near them, her nipples were distended and painfully erect. Her eyes refused to focus. All of her muscles were tired of the strain, and her legs were starting to shake from exhaustion. How long had he been at this? Hours and hours. Maybe most of her life.

As the feather swept over her again, she sobbed, broken.

“Please, no,” she whimpered. “I can’t. I promise I’ll be good. I’ll do anything you want. You can do anything else to me, just please no more.”

“You’ll tell me?”

When she hesitated, trying to make her mouth move the right way, he attacked her clit again, the edge of the feather running back and forth over every bit of her exposed and painfully sensitive nub. She screamed again, the sound pulled out of her chest, burning its way up her throat to escape her open mouth.

Her hips jerked up off the bed, her impending orgasm twisting every muscle in her body, tightening it until she was sure something would snap like an overtaxed rubber band. So close . . . so fucking close . . .

It stopped. She lay, staring blankly at the ceiling. Shadows of thoughts scuttled around her mind, but pulling them together wasn’t working. The world had gone quiet, except for her thundering heart, and the sound of her and her tormentor’s shaking breaths.

“Come on, Addison. If you’re a good girl this all stops, but if you’re bad . . .” He made a sound of regret as he trailed off, like he was sorry he had no other choice. “I just want to lick that pretty clit and suck it into my mouth—to make you scream with pleasure when you come for me, but I can’t do that unless you answer the question.”

Her entire body shook, feeling like it was going to shake itself to pieces. Tears dripped from the corners of her eyes, dribbled down her temples, pooled in her ears.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”

He squeezed her knee. “Where is it hidden?”

Crap. This wasn’t going to go over well, which was a big part of the reason she’d tried to hold out.

For a moment her mouth worked, as she tried to get the words out. “It was under your bumper.”

He scoffed, frowning. “That was the first place I checked.”

Part of her wanted to gloat, but she was still too desperate and vulnerable to fuck with him, safeword or no. She couldn’t take another second of torture.

“When I got to the club, before I went in, I took it off your car and shoved it in my purse.”

At his dumbfounded expression, she wished she found this funny.

“You little fucking bitch.”

She shut her eyes, waiting for him to slap her, or worse. A hoot of laughter made her reopen her eyes.

“God, if I didn’t want to fuck you so bad I’d just untie you and kick you out horny, to get even with you.” He laughed then made a pained noise. “Fuck, the guys will never let this go.”

“Please, Fox,” she begged, not even sure what she wanted. The plan had been to mock him about this, but considering what he’d just done to her, and how raw her mind felt, joking had become an unfamiliar concept. Quiet tears still slid down her face. She felt disgusting—sweaty and tear-streaked and itchy. Dirty, and not just in terms of her appearance.

His gaze refocused on her, roamed over her. Maybe she felt dirty, but the glow in his eyes suggested she was exactly his kind of dirty.

“Please what, clever girl?”

She sniffled and squirmed even though her muscles felt leaden. “I need you.” Surely, he hadn’t forgotten he’d promised to let her come? But what if it had slipped his mind, or he didn’t want to follow through? What if he wasn’t done tormenting her?

The safeword she’d chosen would stop him from making things worse, but it wouldn’t make him ease her. She imagined him doing what he’d said—untying her and telling her to dress. Then she’d walk out of the room and out to her car.

When she’d seen the pieces of the torn-up car, she’d had a momentary pang of regret that he’d gone so far and done so much damage for nothing. What if, between that and her screwing up the script at the dealership, he didn’t want her anymore? She couldn’t think of a more humiliating scenario than creeping out of the house, trembling with need. Having to stop on the side of the road to masturbate would be mortifying.

Everything in her brain shut down except whatever valve controlled her tears. Those wouldn’t stop.

“Oh, hey. Shhh.”

She could feel him tugging at the ropes, untying her. It was true. He was going to leave her like this.

“Shh, Addison. It’s done now.”

The ropes fell away, his quiet voice repeating comforting things, but nothing he said could soothe her.

The bed dipped behind her, and he pulled her into his arms, wrapping his body around hers like a cocoon. “It’s okay, pretty girl. I’ve got you.”

Although the heat from his body felt good, his clean, masculine scent made her arousal worse, reminding her of what she desperately needed but couldn’t have.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, rolling over to look at him. “I didn’t know you’d wreck your car looking for it.”

He wiped her tears away with his fingers, but there were too many, had been too many, and his hand just ended up smearing them around.

“I’m not angry, baby.” He chuckled. “You tricked me, but it was all in good fun. You had no way of knowing how far I’d go to avoid losing, especially since winning would have landed you in my bed.”