He’s level with my breasts. Intentionally, I’m sure when he captures a nipple between his teeth. The sweet nip with just the right amount of pain has me reflexively pushing my chest forward.
Ropes snap across my middle. They yank me back into place. More wind over and around the breasts he’s sucking and palming. Spare loops coil beneath my knees, hoist me an inch higher and wider.
My idiot brain thinks he’s trying to elevate the weight off my wrists. I didn’t think it was so the tree could grow a thick, sticky tuber right between my legs.
“Vaelith...”
My choked gasp barely gets a flick of his gaze. They stay trained on the bulge pushing past my back entrance. Smooth like it’s been polished, but sticky with something that makes the invasion seamless.
“Tell me when to stop, little whore,” he drawls as the branch extends.
Lengthens.
It pulls my muscles wide and I can’t even move as it crawls deeper.
“Stop ... stop!” I cry when the pain is a dull pinch at the base of my stomach.
Vaelith’s attention finally snaps to my face. “That deep, huh? Didn’t realize you could take so much back there.” He bites down on his bottom lip as he leans in close to my face. “Open your mouth.”
Every breath labored, I obey and he slips a chunk of polished wood between my teeth. I bite down without being told.
Vaelith slips back to observe his handiwork. I can’t tell what he sees, but he doesn’t look like a man pleased.
He turns and Ciaran promptly places a stick in his palm. Not long enough to spank me with. Barely longer than his hand, but there’s a single purple leaf clinging to it.
“I made this specifically for you,” he states, holding it up so I can see it properly. “Amorael. It’s a variant. Poison oak with mistletoe.”
I don’t know a damn thing about plants. It doesn’t look any different from the pots lining Mom’s kitchen window. But the way he’s holding it makes me think I’m not going to like this, or I’ll like it too much.
“I was saving it for when you were being a bad girl, which happened a lot sooner than I expected.”
Definitely don’t think I’m going to like it.
But I can’t move, can’t speak. I’m fully immobilized and at his mercy when he steps forward and runs the plant over my swollen and exposed clit. Just a stroke. A nick. Barely a whisper.
But the burn.
The raw, scorching agony.
I shriek through my gag. My toes flare and crack. My thighs shudder. Try to. But all that fills the silence is the creaking of the vines straining beneath my attempts.
Between my ears, the world is screaming. It’s the high whistle of such unimaginable pleasure. My body is on the cusp of bliss, of endless torment that I am leaking and no one’s touched me yet.
“Aamon,” Vaelith summons as I fight my binds.
My eyes snap open with the first brutal thrust, the unexpected drive of his perfect cock in my weeping channel. It’s such a needed assault my head smacks back against the bark with a wail as my body takes it. Hugs him and the tree pusheddeep. The bristling at my clit does not subdue. Barely does anything the harder he pumps.
“Harder. Harder!”I snarl with my teeth sinking into the bit.
In all reality, it should be too much. The slab of wood combined with the wild slams of his hips should be brutal, but the pain has put me so far over the edge I can’t see anything beyond the promise of sweet release.
He cums before I can.
His seed spills out of me in a thick drizzle and joins my mess across the floor. But my core continues to seize and contract uselessly with his absence.
“Next,” Vaelith commands from the throne he’s erected just off to the side.
Close enough that he can see everything as Malakar takes his place.
