Page 33 of His Keepsake

Last chance, girl.

She finally remembered to claw at my hand where I held her throat.

I trapped hers against her neck. “Such a tiny wrist. You think you can stop me?” I bit her there too, licked down her arm, then growled and nibbled on her jaw.

Her shuddering sigh seemed a mix of latent ecstasy, pain, and submission, then she tilted her neck, opening herself to me, clearly expecting more bites.

To fuck with that.

I had what I needed.

A leash lay on the set of drawers. I flipped her onto her back on the bed and clipped it to her collar then held her down. I shoved apart her legs and stepped between them, noting the glistening along the seam of her labia. The plumpness of her breasts lured me. I wrapped my fist around one and squeezed until she writhed, gasping at the pain.

“I love abusing such pretty tits.” I squeezed harder, smiling. “It’s on my to-do list.”

I knew where Grayson kept everything.

With my fingernail, I traced a cruel line across her ribcage, while I watched her. A crease appeared between her eyes. She showed her teeth and whined.

The sounds this one made. I should record them for posterity and my dick.

“Stop. Wait.” Futilely, she pulled at where I crushed her flesh. “You can’t do that.”

“No?” I leaned in and captured both her hands, then pinned them to the quilt. Although she’d be dampening the front of my pants, I pressed my erection into her, ground myself around.

Little did she know she was doomed to be covered in come from the moment her sweet mouth quivered. Keeping my pants clean came a distant second to making this one shrink from me as far as the bed allowed. She let out a soft, reluctant moan.

“Poor little thing. We can do almost anything to you, and if he really has kidnapped you…we can do everything.” I caged her with my arms. “And right now, I’m imagining putting clamps and honey on your pussy, and staking you out on the lawn, spreadeagled, for the ants to eat out.”

Her eyes widened, and her voice shook. “You’re weird as fuck.”

“Lucky for you, I’m feeling kind.”

I marched her from the room by her hair, letting her stumble but keeping her on her feet. We went down the stairs to Grayson’s perfect kitchen. The man was a little anal about cleanliness in here.

I dragged a stool to the kitchen island and wedged it against the edge. “Sit.” Taking care not to make it too taut, I tied the leash to the faucet behind her.

While she fingered the collar and pouted, I found what I wanted.

From a drawer, I took the roll of plastic clingwrap and a heavy red spatula, then I looked to her, gauging where to wrap first. Those curves slew me. Breasts large enough to feel them resist when I slapped them, hips I could anchor fingers into, leave bruises on, and a face like a virgin siren—if there was such a creature.

Her fair hair swayed in corkscrew tangles over her face.

Bruises on her thighs and ass, a reddened face, as if shy about kink, and a body to lick, bite, or anything else I felt like doing to it. She was the perfect montage.

Whatever Grayson had stuck into her rear was making her flushed, and she twisted on the stool. She was a beautiful mess that I aimed to make filthy. Filthier.

I tapped the spatula on my palm. It had a nice weight to it.

“A naked girl with no limits. Where to begin?”

“Nowhere?”

I slapped the spatula onto her nipple, twice. She yelped and clutched it, covering my target.

“Quiet. Master is thinking.”

Her raspberry was unexpected. “Looks painful.”

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