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"I see you disagree. Let's move it along a little, shall we?"
Before he could prepare himself, the lash bit into him again, harder this time, the sting greater, the burn hotter. Selene was silent as she gave him a series of four strikes. Adrenaline surged through him, mingling with the rush of endorphins. The surroundings faded away until all he was aware of was the needle bite of the whip and the insane pleasure it brought. When she stopped, the pain was so stimulating he wanted to beg her to keep going, unbelievable need consuming him.
"The pain gets overridden by intense pleasure, doesn't it? My cruelty unlocks things inside you. Things you need, Quinn. I love watching it happen. Turn around, cowboy. See what I'm talking about."
No more whip?
Flummoxed by the truth of her words, he wanted to protest them, but his mouth couldn't seem to form the words. Facing her, the combination of hunger and pleasure in her eyes nearly did him in. Without touching her, he had aroused her to a need almost as great as his own.
She had removed her own clothing and stood naked before him, her nipples darkened to the color of an heirloom rose. She held the whip curled loosely in one hand and with the other she ran her fingers between the lips of her cunt. When she lifted them they were glistening with her juices. She moved forward and painted his lips with the liquid.
"See how you affect me when you do my bidding?"
His nostrils flared as the scent drifted up to him.
"Lick your lips, bronc. Taste me. If you are very, very good I will let you fuck me with your tongue." She took a step closer, her next words whispered. "And your cock. But only after I show you how intense the pleasure of the whip can be. I want to drive you to the point where you're entirely under my control." Pressing a hand against his chest, she held him place as she dipped her head, licked one of his nipples, causing him to shudder. Her hand slipped up, collared his throat, squeezed. "Let's see how high a level we can take you." She licked the other nipple. "Trust me to know just how far to go this first time. Tell me you understand."
"Yeah. Yes. God, yes."
She lifted her head, her hair brushing his flesh. "Did you make yourself come since you saw me last?"
"Couldn't help it. Woke up with a hard-on so bad I couldn't have ridden my horse without scaring him."
Her lips curved. "Far be it from me to traumatize your horse. But we're going to set a few rules going forward. You want to masturbate when you're not with me, you have to call me. I want to listen to you do it. If I don't answer, you do it for my voicemail. I want to hear every dirty thought going through your head as you're doing it." Her voice dropped to a whisper as she rose on her toes, nuzzled his throat, pricked him with one of those filed teeth of hers. Funny, though, they hadn't seemed so prominent when she was working the bar, flashing that mesmerizing smile of hers. "So I can listen to your voice later when I'm masturbating," she said.
"What if I want you to call me when you do that?"
"Tough. You can just imagine it, until we're together. When you're good, I might occasionally let you watch. You understand me, Quinn? If you need to jerk off ten times a day, you'll call me ten times a day. But if you call and I say no, you'll just have to figure out how to help your horse cope. Your climax belongs to me, every drop."
He swallowed as those fangs pricked him again. "You're hungry," he muttered, cupping the back of her head. "Do what you gotta do."
He couldn't explain what the hell he was doing, playing into whatever delusion she had about that, but he had a burning need for her to nourish herself from him. She stilled at his comment, her fingers spreading across his chest, lingering there before she pushed away.
"Maybe later. You're not a marked servant, and I want you to conserve your energy. For now, I have other hungers to satisfy."
He blinked, not sure what to say to that, but she wasn't in the mood to explain herself.
"Stay just like that." She paced back again, slid the whip through her fingers. "Another night, I'll tie you up tight, and make you watch the lash come at your front. Let it kiss your thighs, your ball sac, your nipples. You'll come from the pain and my command alone. Would you like that?"
"Yes."
She cupped her breast, ran the whip handle down her body and then, mother of God, it disappeared inside her. She hummed, dropped her head back on her shoulders, rotated her hips with the movement, her thumb sliding over her swollen clit.
"I can do that for you," he said hoarsely.
She cracked open an eye, a lock of blonde hair falling over her blue eye. "Better than the handle?"
"Hell yes."
"Hell yes, what?"
"Yes...ma'am."
"Nice. I don't always need that, but I do love the way you say it, cowboy." She drew the handle out, touched her lips to it. "I expect you'll have to oil and clean that now, but you'll remember where it's been." She set it aside and sauntered toward him. He fisted his hands at his sides.
"On your knees, wonderful man."
He sank there, his head tilted up to watch her approach. As she stepped in front of him, she reached out, stroked his hair back. He closed his eyes and didn't think he'd ever felt so aroused...or at peace, under that oddly soothing touch.
"You've worked so hard for what you want, Quinn. I listen to people, and I know they respect you, look to you as a leader in this community. Your opinion counts, because you've earned it. But you have no woman, no family close by. Don't even seem to really have many close friends. Why is that, Quinn? Why do you prefer your silent pastures to being around your own kind? Keep your eyes closed. Tell me in the darkness. It's easier that way."
He wasn't sure anything would make it easier, but he kept his eyes closed. "Why do you need to know?" he asked, fighting the tense weight in his chest trying to disrupt the moment.
Fortunately, she continued to stroke him. By keeping his eyes closed he felt he was back in that erotic dream state from this morning, her voice like a ribbon of silk weaving around him.
"You're not a man who talks about his emotions. I like those traditional qualities to you. You're a man's man, Quinn. But to do this right, I need to know the emotional makeup below the surface. Why you do certain things and how it will affect what goes on between us. So I'll push to get to the root of who you are." Her voice took on an edgy purr. "I can be gentle about that, or not-so-gentle. Because it's to give us both pleasure. But I want truth from you, always. Tell me."
God help him, his mouth was already opening to let the words spill out, as if the stroke of her hand was a sorceress's compulsion.
"I'm not sure I can make you understand," he began. "When I was growing up we lived in the foreman's house on the ranch where my dad worked. Our home was the noisiest place in the world. At least it felt that way to me. There were four of us, all boys, and I was the youngest. I was kind of an accident, so my next oldest brother was about eight years older than me. We never really connected as siblings. We barely even keep in touch with each other."
"I'm sorry. That must make you sad sometimes." Her voice was a calming caress.
"I got used to it. If someone wanted to be heard, shouting was the only answer. Then there were the hands, just as wild and no
isy as we were. There was no place to get away from it. I think I was the only one in the family who ever found it...jarring. Distressing. Privacy was nonexistent. Everyone was in your business all the time."
"I can understand that." Her voice was edged with hidden meaning.
"My dad was a hard man. He raised us the way he'd been brought up, with a lot of shouting and a good strapping with a belt when we misbehaved. It seemed a day hardly passed without one of us feeling the leather on our backsides." He shook his head as if to clear it. The ranch had always been a maelstrom of sound, exploding around him with the force of a tornado. "I felt, I don't know, I guess you'd say I got lost in it all. And Dad and I just never saw eye to eye on anything. We were always at each other's throats when I was a teen. It came to blows a couple times, made my mother cry over both of us, because we couldn't get along."
"Oh Quinn." But her tone stayed low, as if raising it beyond a certain level would fracture his thoughts.
"I'm not sure how my mom ever stood it. She was an amazing woman, and the only one who could keep order. Who could make my dad shake in his boots."
Selene's lips curved in a knowing smile. "I think I would have liked her."
"Yes. You probably would."
"But then you left home," she prompted.
"Yeah, to try to be something more than part of a crowd. Only being on the rodeo circuit wasn't any different. The only thing that changed was the geography. All that shouting and screaming. The noise of the animals and the competitors just invaded your head and swelled in your brain. The ever-present crowds. For a long time I never had the money to stay in a motel so I slept in my truck. Let me tell you, that's no place to get away from the constant sounds of the rodeo."
He paused and let out a slow breath. A muscle ticked just beneath his left eye. "You say my kind. I don't even know what my kind is. I just know the silence of the land, even with the cattle, is the first peace I've known in my life. It's like being in a healing place."
She stroked her slim fingers over his forehead. "Peace can be found in many ways. Perhaps giving control to me, allowing me to lead this dance, will be a kind of peace for you. A place where you don't always have to call the shots. Where you can just be. Will that work for you, Quinn?"
