“Jesus,” I whisper, unable to tear my eyes from his gloved hand between my legs, unable to think rationally about the fact that his fingers are playing in my wetness, circling my entrance. His thumb presses on my clit in the most erotic way. I grip the other armrest, and he tears my panties off, ripping the elastic band, pulling it down my thigh until it rests on my ankle. “Oh my god.”
He slides two fingers inside me, curling them with delicious purpose. I close my eyes because the pleasure is more than anything I’ve ever felt with another man. I grip his wrist and rock on his fingers, grinding my clit on the heel of his hand.
“What about here, Countess?” His fingers slide down from my pussy to between my cheeks. The insistent press on the skin right before my asshole feels taboo. He is agonizingly close to my ass, and I wonder if he will touch me there. It makes me grip thearmrests harder. “Does it hurt here?” He inquires, as his fingers ghost over my asshole.
I start stuttering in disbelief when he demands, insisting I speak.
“Answer me.”
I don’t know how to answer him.“I don’t know.”
“I think you do.”
The moment feels foreign. The sex and the way he is talking to me are unfamiliar, alien. Unlike anything I could have imagined. Every word out of his mouth is bewitching. His fingers take their time, slowly sliding back up to my pussy, and when he pushes two inside, all I feel is the tight pressure returning. The burning stretch and then movement. He curls them, I moan when he presses his hand on my lower belly, and spasm at the sharp, delicious pleasure. It feels fantastic, and I’m out of my mind. “Fuck, Stone! More. More,” I chant.
“Greedy little thing aren’t you?”
“Yes. I can’t—I need?—”
“Still hurting, Countess?” He adds another finger, and I stare into his dark eyes, wanting him to go deeper. “Let me take the pain away.”
He moves both fingers, scissoring them, and I shake, convulsions racking my body.
“Maybe this will help.”
He picks up the tattoo gun and, when he turns the handle around, turning it on, placing it on my clit, I curse. The vibration goes through my body, and I swear I see heaven. The heavy pressure increases, and the sweet pain that centers right in my clit, multiplies. The movement of his fingers adds to the delicious feeling. The pain and pleasure collide until they blend together into something I’ve never experienced before.
Chapter 34
The needy way she calls my name makes me eager for more. Once she accepted my challenge to show me where it hurt, I was gone. All rational thought disappears. I need more. More of her panting breaths. More of her surrender. I glance down at her tattoo. It was seeing her blood weeping through the small wounds to her skin that sparked my bloodlust. The sight of the dark ink mixing with the crimson that did something to me, feeding the greed inside me to hear her come with my name in her mouth, and now I can’t stop. She hasn’t come down from her orgasm yet, but I want to see it again.
She blinks, eyes hazy, pupils blown wide. I slow down my fingers, and she whimpers when I thumb her sensitive tissue.
“I can’t?—”
“Can’t what, Countess?”
“I don’t think I can orgasm again.” Her whisper is fearful, confused, and it makes me savagely happy. That fucker she was dating never got her to this point. Good. Her annihilation belongs to me.
“Hmmm. You will, Countess. You will come again and it will be on my tongue this time.” I pull my knife out of mypocket and flick open the switchblade. She opens her eyes, chest heaving. She watches me slide the blade under the elastic of her underwear,cutting away at the green fabric. I peel it back, like wrapping paper, revealing the mound of her pussy. It is beautifully plump. Covered in a sparse layer of hair. I need a taste. Just a little to feed the savage inside me.
She moves her hand to cover her pussy, and I growl. “Move your fucking hand right now.”
There’s a little stubble on her pussy lips, and I want to experience every inch of it, of her.
“But I— I didn’t—wax?—”
“I don’t give a shit about hair on a pussy, Countess.”
I lean forward and run my nose along the surface, flicking my tongue up one puffy lip. The rough prickles of hair against my tongue turn me on even more. She’s raw and feminine like this. I push my gloved fingers back inside her. I can feel her heat beneath the latex, and I regret not taking them off, but it’s better this way. As if this thin barrier makes what I’m doing better.
She’s a paying customer, the much younger sister of a man I feel loyal to for all that he’s done for my family, but right now, I don’t give a fuck. Stalking is not enough, not anymore. It’s a lukewarm stand-in for what I really want. My blood is burning hot, and I’m not giving this up. I can have this. Just this. This one time.
As soon as I think it, I hate that idea. I don’t want another set of limits. I want to pull down her pretty bra and suck her nipples. I need to see what color they are. To spend all day discovering the secrets of her body. She grips the seat, staring down at between her legs.
I push her legs open wider, trailing my wet fingers along the skin of her inner thighs. So much of her body is unblemished, a blank canvas. I rip the kinesthetic tape away, and other than a slight jerk, she doesn’t say a word about the pain. Her skin isirritated, and I smooth the reddened mark, liking the contrast against her milky skin. She bites her lips when I do it. She likes it. An image of me taping her wrists, her mouth, and her ankles while she rests on my bed, splayed open, moaning while I eat her pussy comes to mind.
I push her legs back. “Hold them open.”
