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She wanted more than anything in the world to respond with a cry of “Yes!” or even “Yes, sir!” or “Yes, master!” but somehow she couldn’t.
All she could do was sob on the table, utterly broken.
Then she felt his thumb on her clit once more, and the truth struck her like a hammer blow. She’d just given him her answer. He hadn’t wanted words.
It was those broken, desperate sobs of helpless surrender for which he’d been waiting.
And now at last she knew instinctively he was going to make her come. But while on one level that thought provided her relief, on another in brought only terrifying anticipation. If he’d broken her that thoroughly with merely a single teasing fingertip, how hard would she break before he was finished making her come for him?
Because she knew without the slightest doubt that there wouldn’t be one climax, or two, or three. She had no idea how many there would be, and in fact she doubted he knew either. She just knew that as broken as she felt now, she would be an utter and complete wreck by the time he was finished with her.
Then she felt the flat of the blade pull the hood of her clit back even further and his thumb pushed down on her nub hard and fast, rubbing with painful pressure against the already over stimulated nerves. It took barely a second for her climax to begin. And her scream began with it.
She didn’t know how long the orgasm lasted—she may even have blacked out. But by the time it ended, her sweat-soaked body lay slumped against the table and she felt more spent than she ever had in her life. He let her rest for only a moment, and then she felt the knife lift away.
Her hope that it was over was dashed almost instantly when his thumb returned to fulfill the role of the knife, holding back the hood of her clit. She knew what was coming before she felt the blade’s tip on her helplessly exposed clit, but it came as a desperate shock nonetheless. Her body jolted, but with seemingly supernatural precision he moved the sharp steel with her, keeping her from accidentally cutting herself while maintaining contact between the tip and her clit.
When her helpless instinctive motions slowed, he began to circle her little button as before, now alternating between enough pressure to be painful and sometimes pulling back so that the steel teased her as if it were a feather.
Nothing he’d done before compared to this.
The pressure was not enough to bring her to climax. In fact, it was so light it probably never would be, but it was enough to keep her even closer to the edge than his thumb had before. She knew he could keep her here on the brink of utter shameful desperation for as long as he wanted.
Aurora began to beg and plead again, this time no longer in coherent words but in babbled syllables indicating that her mind was now as completely defeated as her body. Every other thought was gone, and only the need to come remained.
But still the torment continued. Seconds passed as she lay there, bound and in helpless anguish, before at last his voice cut through her agony enough to capture her attention.
“I’m going to make you come again now, Aurora. It’s going to be much harder than the first time, and it’s going to hurt.”
There was no question, no prompt for a response. He was simply telling her what she was about to endure—and endure it she would. Not only because she was tightly restrained, but because even if her bonds were suddenly set free, she knew she would have no choice except to lay there, too exhausted to move, waiting for whatever he had planned.
Repositioning his thumb to hold the hood of her clit back even further, he lifted the tip of the knife off her clit and suddenly slapped the flat side of the blade down hard. The intense sting of that spank was matched only by the lightning bolt which seemed to arch from her clit to every nerve ending in her body. She threw her head back—to the tiny degree she could—and released a primal scream of agony mixed with ecstasy.
He lifted the blade once more and replaced it with his thumb, roughly manipulating her sensitive little bud. As soon as her scream had faded, the flat of the blade slapped down again, harder this time. She screamed louder. After the second spank of the cold metal on her utterly defenseless bundle of nerves, his thumb returned, rubbing harder than before, and she felt herself careening over the brink and into an orgasm beyond anything she had imagined in her deepest fantasies… or her darkest nightmares.
Her eyes rolled up and every muscle tensed and flexed harder than before, her empty pussy clenching and unclenching desperately. Then as the climax rocketed toward its peak, his thumb once more pulled back the hood and she felt the blade’s tip press down hard right on the center of her entirely exposed clit. Though once again it was not enough to do any damage, the sensation was indescribable. It felt as if the pain would completely overwhelm her mind if it weren’t for the sheer ecstasy which fought for its own place.
She bucked and thrashed her hips, but with the skill of a samurai he kept the tip in motion with her clit, not allowing her to do herself any harm, even accidentally, yet keeping the pain and pleasure no less intense. The sensations were unendurable, yet all she could do was endure them.
She wondered if she could force herself to black out to preserve her mind from shattering, but even that was denied her, and she was simply forced to ride the tidal wave of pleasure until it covered over and washed away all else, leaving her totally broken and spent. Only then did what remained of her conscious mind feel the blade pull away and his thumb lift to allow the hood to slide back down over her still-pulsing clit.
Feeling his breath on her ear once again, she was able to just barely comprehend the words spoken in his deep voice before she drifted into something between sleep and unconsciousness.
“You’re mine now, babygirl.”
CHAPTER 2
It wasn’t often that Dante felt intimidated, and it was even less often that he felt completely out of his element. He had glided through medical school with honors and had promptly settled into his role with the Moretti family once they’d caught wind of his talents with both a scalpel and a gun. More than once he’d cut a bullet out of himself before putting one in somebody else.
Hell, in the last couple of years alone, he’d lost his best friend and boss and been thrust suddenly into the kingpin role without his confidence being shaken. Not like it was now.
Looking down at the beautiful girl sleeping in his lap, then out the limo’s window at the stunning countryside of the Italian Alps, he found himself feeling a little nervous for the first time in as long as he could remember. This was his first visit to Italy, and it wasn’t for pleasure.
It was for business.
The business just happened to be capturing his willful, disobedient bride who had run off instead of fulfilling her agreement with her late uncle. That thought sent Dante back to the evening he’d relived more than any other of his life.
Having tried and failed three times to pull himself to his feet, Dante began dragging himself across the marble-tiled floor of the cavernous reception room where Antonio Giordano and his new bride had danced just a few short minutes ago.
