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Well, Kimberly mused and looked at Dean again, watching his hands as he slowly turned the beaker,I never could turn down a dare. “Brat.” The look he sent her alone was worth it, she thought as everything started tingling again.
“This one here with just a little liquid in it is water; that’s where the burnt swabs go. And these—” He picked up the middle and largest beaker. She couldn’t tell how many surgical tweezers it held, but there were a lot of the bastards. “—are just cotton and forceps. They lock tight, so you won’t have to worry about anything coming loose on you. I’ll dip them one at a time, then use them to paint where I want the fire to go. After, I’ll light it.”
Kimberly gulped, and Dean grinned—the asshole.
“You’ll feel the heat. It’ll tingle, and it’ll get hot, but I won’t let it burn you. After all your body hair is gone, that is.” The evil bastard didn’t even try to hide his smile when she gasped in horror and frantically wondered how much baby fuzz she had.
“Here, we’ll start slow and easy so you can see.” He selected two forceps. The cotton wound up on the bottoms were just a bit smaller than ping pong balls, and he dipped them carefully into the alcohol. Kimberly felt her breathing speed up and that earthquake feeling come back when Dean took them out and lit one. The little ball of white flared to life like they were at a luau, and her heart went warp speed.
He set the torch down, and she realized all traces of his “dashing rogue” humor were gone now. He had lines of concentration making furrows in his brow, and the way he tightened his jaw made his high cheekbones and jawline stand out even more. In the dim shadows of The Lion’s Den, fire light played over his fallen angel perfection, and when Dean slowly lifted his lashes, their eyes locked through the flames. Danger had never looked so beautiful.
He held both lit and unlit tools in one hand at first, the ends well away from each other and their faces. With his free hand, he stroked his thumb in a gentle tickle along the underside of her forearm; his other fingers slid over the top. All the while, his eyes never left her face.
When Dean took one tool in each hand, Kimberly started to breathe like she was getting ready to go under water, and he paused for a moment with the wet, white gauze half an inch from her skin.
“Ready?” His whisper was a shot of adrenalin straight to the heart. Kimberly nodded.
Dean’s eye’s shifted focus back to her arm, and he ran that cold, wet cloth from her wrist to the inside of her elbow. She’d barely felt the chill of the air when he touched her racing pulse with the flame. Just a whisper, just a kiss.
Blue and orange fire snaked up her arm in a line that was about as straight as a lightning bolt. It left a trail that went from warm, to oh-wow, to holy-hell just as fast as its pattern, then Dean’s thumb was smoothing the flames away with one magical sweep of his palm.
By the time she managed to gasp, he was doing it to her other arm. Tingling licks that felt like a hot tongue through a cold condom trailed over her skin faster than her foggy brain could keep track. Was it hot? Was it warm? Was that cold again, and was that his palm or his thumb? Was he dousing a flame or lining out the path for the next one? The heat built like she was sitting daringly close to a campfire as he swabbed and lit over and over.
Kimberly’s mind floated to a place where you knew it was too hot, you knew you weren’t safe, but it felt so good that you ignored what’s safe and what was good for you. You leaned into that heat just a little bit closer, then that felt so good you leaned in even more.
By the time Dean pulled those silver, needle-thin tools of satanic, torturous delight away from her, Kimberly was intoxicated with arousal. And there wasn’t a hair left on either arm.
They eyed each other, opponents after the bell, as he blew out the fire, dropped the two he held, and picked up two more. A flame blazed between them, and Kimberly’s breath became deep, while her vision tunneled and fogged at the edges. Dean glided out of sight.
“Safe word?” His already deep voice was sex-gruff.
“B-Brat.” Kimberly’s was likewise.
His thumb trailed down the ticklish sole of her foot and made her toes curl, and the cool swipe of the swab came next. Kimberly felt the flicker of heat, the unpredictable scamper of it racing across her tender heel and instep, followed by the embrace of his palm. Even warmer somehow than the fire, his fingers wrapped briefly around her whole foot, and it felt like salvation.What a mind fuck, she mused in a disconnected corner of her brain. He was saving her from a fire he started himself.
Dean treated her other foot to more of the same, and the play of fire and cold, this time without knowing where it was going to land, was even more earth-shattering than it had been on her arms.
He didn’t rush as he moved up her legs. He also didn’t stick to any sort of pattern. It was the most sensual and intense massage of her life. Those strokes of fire brought blood rushing to the surface the same way a deep tissue massage would, and they turned her muscles to mush. The way his hands never left her body, the trails of fire they left behind, those never got put out. They just grew and spread, connecting over her limbs like channels of lava, all merging together and headed for the same direction.
Kimberly was barely aware of the pleading sounds that were coming out of her mouth by the time she felt his thumb glide over her ass. The first time she felt scorching heat on such sensitive skin, so close to yet more sensitive skin, Kimberly’s senses went into overdrive. Like a virgin in the back seat of a car, she was both terrified and feeling an exhilaration she had never dreamed possible. Caught up in a delirium of conflicting sensations she didn’t have the brain power to sort—hot, cold, pleasure, pain—she loved it; she hated it. She was going to scream from the ecstasy. She was going to scream from the agony.
Kimberly didn’t know which it was for, but she did indeed scream. Dean didn’t stop. He must’ve known which one it was for though, because he made an approving sort of growl, slapped the area he burned lightly, and kept on going.
It didn’t get easier. She didn’t get used to it. Each flame licked higher; each streak of fuel that dripped teasingly over her hip outlined another portion of her body he was laying claim to. Because that’s what this had transcended into being for Kimberly. Dean was burning away every trace of every man who’d ever come before him, and as he brought that fire closer and closer to where she was boiling, she knew this visual wasn’t in her head by mistake.
“I love the thong, Kimberly,” Dean told her as he dropped and picked up what must have been the dozenth pair of forceps. “But I’m afraid it’s time for it to go now.” Their gazes locked again, and Kimberly noticed he lost the shirt somewhere along the way, and he was sweating as much as she was. He looked even bigger bare-chested; the shadows pooled in the ridges of his muscles and outlined them like a charcoal sketching. His jeans rode low over his hips and robbed her of the same view he had of her, but she had no room in her lust-fogged brain for complaints.
Or time to form them if she did. Dean motioned with his chin to someone she couldn’t see, then disappeared behind her again.
Suddenly, he was back between her legs, only this time fully between them. His hips pressed hard into her, and the fire-heated flesh flared to a higher and unbelievable level of sensation. The shock of it was more surprise than pain, more thrill than fear, but all of it was there, and Kimberly felt herself back at that campfire again. Leaning into the burn and teetering on that dangerous edge once more. Dean’s naked torso draped over her abused ass, flesh to burning flesh. She felt him rest his face in the small of her back. Kiss her there.
“Oh shit,” Kimberly whimpered. “Oh fuck.” She felt the sweep of his hair as he brushed it across her butt, and she realized her skin had never in her life been more sensitive. “None of those are your safe word, luscious.” His hair felt to her like a professional quality makeup brush, and he rubbed that silk over every inch of her up-tilted, overheated ass.
Then he started rubbing his face on it too, his hands; he squeezed the round, reddened cheeks.Where the hell did the forceps go? Are we about to burn down?Before she could decide if she cared whether or not they were all about to die in a raging fire, he raked his nails over her flaming skin, and she decided she, in fact, didn’t care.
On the very top of her inner thigh, way up high and so close to where she knew all this was headed, he sucked a big chunk of her flesh into his hot, hot mouth and bit.
Kimberly screamed again. This time when she did, she screamed because she came.
