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“Green,” I reply enthusiastically.
His answering hum has me picturing a sexy smile to go with it.
A loud scraping sound travels along the floor, and I guess he’s moving the table to my feet. The leather groans as he sits between my legs, and I smirk as the position allows him to block the view of my pussy.
“Something to say?” he asks, mirth in his voice.
“Not a thing,” I reply, secretly loving his possessiveness.
“Mmhm.” He shifts on the seat and then I feel his body hovering over me as something thin slips under the strap at my shoulder and pulls it down my arm, exposing my right breast and the heavy silver cross to the room. Goosebumps radiate across my chest and my bare nipple hardens painfully under the attention.
“Fuck,” he rasps, “my imagination did not do you justice.” He’s still for a beat and when he sits back down, the leather creaks under his weight. Ice clinks against glass and I jump when frigid water drips up my leg, soaking into the fabric over my stomach before it trails a path up to my chest.
Leo draws a circle above my breast, trickling icy liquid around my nipple. A shiver spreads to my warm, untouched side as he presses the solid block to naked skin, echoing the cold halo on my flesh.
He swipes the ice over my pointed nipple and the freezing burn shoots straight to my core, my thighs instinctively trying to close.
“Keep still and breathe for me, Kyra,” he orders.
He takes the ice away and I inhale the instant relief, relishing the calming breaths I can squeeze in before another round of his delicious torment. There’s more clinking and I sense the couch dip as he settles his knee between my legs. His left hand lands next to my face and his slacks brush my bare leg as he semi-straddles my right thigh.
I moan when he blows warm air on my sensitive breast at the same time he pushes the dress up around my hips and slips a fresh block of ice through my folds. The temperature changes are a whirlwind for my senses and my muscles tense under him.
My warm center is made wetter by the melting ice and the liquid slips down my pussy and between my cheeks, teasing my other hole. My inner walls clench when he delves into the opening of my vagina, shallowly penetrating me. The icy block that’s taunting my entrance has me fantasizing about his hot, hard dick slipping through my lips and then pushing into me one sinful inch at a time.
His body moves away and he discards the ice, leaving me emptier than I’ve ever been and a harsh sound, the striking of a match, fills the space. I pick up every muted, shuffling sound, even under the music. And each time he shifts over me, or disturbs the air, I feel him, like I’m in tune with his movements around me.
The acrid scent of smoke fills my nostrils, overpowering Leo’s musky cologne. He returns to his spot between my legs and the burning continues, subtle hints of something akin to eucalyptus reaching me, confusing me more.
Leo retrieves something from the table and resumes the familiar looming position over me. I suck in a breath when what feels like a paintbrush strokes a long line down the middle of my damp breast, making sure to paint my tender nipple. My left breast begs for the same attention, the ghostly sensations not enough. I fight the restraints as he paints a shorter line, horizontally this time, over the swell of my breast.
“Mm,” he hums, “you look beautiful with His mark on your skin.”
Too late, I realize he’s branded me with some kind of cross.
“Would you like to see it? Take in the sacrilegious view while I make you come again?”
The mark on my breast is heavier than his cross around my neck. “Yes,” I breathe, unable to deny his depraved plan.
The paint brush clutters against the table and the leather beside my head sinks in. “Lift your head, little girl.”
I obey and he whips the first ribbon off, returning my sight.
His eyes are wild and his shirt is unbuttoned. His forearms bare—my favorite view. His right arm is braced above us on the frame of the chaise and the black cross screams out to me, forcing me to face his glinting silver one lying between my breasts and the dark gray one he’s painted on me.
A cross of ash.
He narrows his eyes, surveying my reaction. “Color?” he asks, and this time I can see the leashed darkness bleeding through his eyes.
I swallow loudly. “Green.”
A wicked grin spreads across his face and he stretches for one final item from the table. He lifts a thick pink wand out of a bowl of water, scooting down to the very edge of the leather so he can settle comfortably in front of my pussy. His right hand braces his body next to my hip and at the first touch of the warm, wet wand, I gasp and arch my back. Warm, cold, warm. My mind’s dazed, and in that moment, my body is completely his.
“Leo,” I half-shout when the wand starts to vibrate.
He moves the tip over my lips, dips it down into my leaking center and then swipes my arousal back up to my clit, circling the oversensitized bud. My climax builds faster this time, the teasing sensations putting me right there on the cliff.
“Don’t you dare close your eyes, Kyra,” he warns, and my lids snap open to meet his intense stare. “I took that blindfold off for you as much as me. I want to look into your soul when I make you come.”
