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Chapter15
Rose
Valtu clears his throat, stiffening a little and looking away. Whatever display of vulnerability I just saw from him has been shoved back to where he keeps the best parts of him, buried deep inside somewhere, like spring buds under a snowdrift.
But it’s not just coldness that has returned to his demeanor. It’s heat, too. He gets to his feet and stares down at me with a look that makes a thrill run down my spine, that look that tells me all the things he wants to do to me and then some. I used to provoke that look as much as I could. My eyes drop to his crotch, his erection large and hard against his black pants, as if I needed extra evidence of what he’s feeling.
“Get up on the bench, on all fours, ass to me,” he commands in a husky voice, his gaze penetrating.
“Yes, my lord,” I tell him, relishing the feeling of saying those words, of seeing the way they affect him. They turn that carnality in his gaze to pure animalistic desire. The combination of wanting to fuck and to feed, the epitome of being the world’s top predator.
I bring my knees up onto the bench and then get on all fours, my ass facing him.
“Jesus,” he swears, and I know he can see I have nothing on underneath. Roughly, he reaches up and shoves up my tunic until I’m completely bare to him from the waist down. “Your ass is just as tempting as your cunt. Think I might spread you with my fingers and take it later.”
I gulp and stiffen, preparing for him to touch me, hurt me, but then I hear him walk to somewhere else in the room and hear the rattle of instruments and strings. My heart rate increases and I have to wonder if he’s about to do what I hope he’s going to do. The music we used to make together.
“Ever play the violin?” he asks idly.
I hide a smile and shake my head. “No. And I haven’t played the cello, either,” I tell him, hoping it will jog his memory.
“Hmmm,” he muses, and I hear the scrape of something being moved, the sound of strings being plucked, and I’m instantly turning into jelly, goosebumps flushing all over my body. My muscle memory is so strong with him, my skin already yearning for that sweet sting of his tender violence.
He stops behind me and I suck in my breath just in time.
Thwack!
He brings a violin bow down across my ass in one sharp, hard hit. I moan loudly, a mix of pleasure and pain as the sensations flood my body, making me jolt, my fingertips curling into the bench.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and I know he’s staring at the red marks his work has left on my pale skin. “It’s like watching a painting come to life.”
There’s another swoosh of air and then he spanks me with the bow again. Stabbing heat flares up along my ass cheeks, the sting sharp, and then he’s hitting me again and again and again.
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
Each hit harder than the last, much harder than he used to spank me. I taste blood and realize I’m biting my tongue and my vision is getting a bit spotty and then he spanks me with extra fervour, enough that I cry out and I’m sure he’s cut the skin. It hurts and he doesn’t seem interested in making me feel any better, not like he used to.
“I could do this for days,” he says, his voice thick with lust. “But unfortunately you’ve broken the strings. No matter, it won’t go to waste.”
I hear a snapping, plucking sound and suddenly he’s pushing between my shoulder blades so that my upper body collapses against the bench and I almost bite my tongue again, my teeth clacking together.
He reaches down and roughly yanks both my hands behind my back and then before I know what’s happening, he’s tying the violin strings around my wrists.
“You’ve been such a good girl, taking the pain like that. It almost makes me want to reward you.”
I swallow as the sound of his zipper being undone fills the room, mixing with my ragged breathing and the erratic beat of my heart.
I feel the heat from his hips as they come up behind me, and his hand takes a rough hold of my hips, fingers bruising me, while his other hand rubs the swollen tip of his cock against my entrance. I can’t help but moan and shift my hips to get more of him, but he’s holding back.
“You’re dripping wet,” he says through a gasp. “And I expect you’re a little sore as well. No pain, no reward, as they say.”
I brace myself but he doesn’t push in yet, instead teases me, rubbing his shaft up along my clit until I’m pressing down into him, wanting more.
“Do you still want this?” he asks. “Will you beg me for it?”
