Page 15 of His Keepsake

God, I did. I was whimpering despite trying not to make a sound.

As though reading my mind, he leaned in to bite my nipple. I gasped at the touch of his mouth, but soon his teeth made me scream, as he sucked and chewed. His mouth was hot on my feverish flesh. The orgasm he’d denied me earlier trembled through my body as it grew, aching.

“Don’t you dare come, Emme,” he warned. “You won’t enjoy what happens if you—”

My muscles tensed and eyes rolled back before he could even finish his threat. I tried to stop—tried even to keep my mouth closed, but my orgasm was wild and overwhelming, throbbing through me with animalistic intensity. I think I screamed, but I couldn’t even muster a last-minute ounce of shame to cut it off. The pain in my nipples and the shame of my pussy squeezing his come from earlier out of my body prolonged things. He pulled the knife handle from me, and I came down from the high of my orgasm, my skin buzzing with endorphins as his dark eyes narrowed in displeasure. My thigh muscles trembled.

Damn, he was hot.

Shame showed up later than was useful, but it only kept the aftershocks of my orgasm going longer.

Why did I have to be wired so weird? Why couldn’t I enjoy flowers and a romantic dinner, like a normal woman?

“Did I or did I not forbid you to come?”

“It was too late. I couldn’t stop.”

“Stupid, horny little toy.” He walked behind me, and the cold blade of his knife touched my nape.

“Don’t fucking move.”

He cut my dress from neck to shoulder on both sides until my dress slipped down to puddle on the floor. It was warm from my body, and I shifted to stand on the fabric, my feet blessing the barrier between my soles and the concrete.

“What are you going to do?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

I screeched at the first lash of his belt, then again at the second, third, and fourth. By the fifth I was sobbing, my back and ass aflame with searing licks of pain.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to.”

“You’re not sorry yet, but you will be.”

The punishment went on until I wondered if he’d ever stop—lash after lash of the leather. I was sweating and writhing, mewling for mercy. I had to pee so bad, and it was taking all of my control not to just let go.

Eventually, he stopped, but probably only because his arm was tired—or maybe because I had stopped reacting.

I hung by my wrists, brain numb, body burning.

This man? He wasn’t a Dom. He was a fucking monster.

He knew bondage, he never asked what CNC means. He knew knots and had a bag of kinky gear. He knew mindfucks.

Serial killers would know and have most of those.

He moved around to where I could see him and stood there, watching me, breathing a little heavier.

“Are you going to remember to obey me, Emme?”

Fumbling, I regained my feet, gasping, eyeing him, sweaty browed. My back and ass were a wicked jigsaw of pain. The hurts throbbed through me, converting to that strange, twisted pleasure. There was beauty in pain.

He tapped my chin with a loop of the belt, then traced below my mouth.

Gentle this time. The touch of the belt elicited tingles, made my mouth feel full, sexual, especially with him studying me.

“I wonder why Charity’s friend never showed up. Maybe he saw me take you. Maybe he even called the police—or maybe the coward just watched and jerked off.”

I sucked on my bottom lip, not sure what was true. If this was Charity’s friend, he was the king of mindfucks. If he wasn’t…

“Such a pretty, pouty mouth.” His hand went behind me and wrapped around my neck. My favorite hold. My eyelids fluttered. “You’re mine forever. Or until I dispose of you.” He leaned in and kissed me.

Dispose of me?

His other hand cupped my breast, slipped upward and found my sore nipple, and crushed it.

The splintering pain, my keening into his mouth, and the kiss shattered all my thoughts into a thousand pieces.

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