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She whimpered at my violent kiss, and gave it back in kind. I was still holding the violin, she was still clutching her bow. The shit violin she’d played earlier was somewhere at our feet, so I couldn’t shove her to the ground and rip off her clothes even if I wanted to. We were in a soundproof room, and I wanted to make her scream, but this wasn’t the time or place.
“We need to talk,” I said, nudging her away.
“No. Talking won’t change anything.” She pulled me close again, staring in my eyes. “We need to take the leap and be done with it. Enough is enough.”
Chapter Fourteen: Alice
Blue yipped withpleasure when Milo escorted me into his living room, but neither of us stopped to pet him. We stashed the instruments on the kitchen counter, out of the reach of a certain dog’s curious, wet nose.
“Bedroom or dungeon?” Milo asked.
That was a stupid question. The dungeon was the place he could be himself, and the place our sparks really flew. “Take me to your dungeon, and show me more things,” I told him.
He hustled me down the hall. “Do you remember the safe word?”
“I’ve been dreaming about it,” I said, which was the truth.
We went inside and he flicked on the lights, more than he’d put on the first time. We undressed, shedding our clothes, eager to get naked together. I’d wanted to see him again for so long, unable to get the image of his nude glory out of my mind. The olive-toned muscles. The broad shoulders. The already-hard cock. It was then, as I stared at his huge, hard shaft, that I remembered there would be pain to pay to get what I wanted.
I looked around the dungeon, seeing it with new eyes. I thought he’d played hard with me before, but it had been, apparently, just a taste of what he was into. Would I survive this next encounter? I hoped so, because I wanted more. More of him, more of his urges, more of his hot, wicked perversions.
“Milo,” I said, holding out a hand when he tried to kiss me again. “I want you to know that I—I want to try—I want to try what you like, but I’m not only doing it for you. I’ve fantasized about the things we’ve done together. I’ve masturbated to the memories so many times.”
He gazed at me. “You have?”
“Yes, so please, don’t worry that you have to hold back. I have the safe word if I need it, and I trust you.”
“It’s not that easy, to justtrust me.” He fisted his cock. “What if you hate something I do to you? What if it makes you hate me?”
“Then I’ll safe word my way out of things. But I really think I’ll enjoy whatever you do.” I wanted to pinch my own nipples, hurt my own breasts, out of anticipation. I wanted to squeeze my own pussy, which was already dripping wet, just from the intent look on his face. “Please, Milo. Let’s try.”
He came at me so fast, I didn’t have time to step back before he took my face between his hands. “I love you so much, Alice. What is it about you? Why are my feelings for you so strong, so fucking voracious that I hate myself?”
“Don’t hate yourself.” I gazed at him in entreaty. “Tie me up. Hurt me.”
He made a feral-sounding growl in his throat and led me to the X-shaped St. Andrew’s Cross. He put my back against the slightly angled structure, and I stared at him as he bound my arms above my head, one wrist to each crosspiece, and then bound my elbows as well. The position forced my breasts out, bringing a delicious feeling of vulnerability. My legs were bound next, first at the ankle and then just above my knees.
I could wiggle—a little—but I couldn’t escape, no matter how I moved my hands or danced on my toes. Milo watched me, a glint of satisfaction in his gaze.He loves when you struggle, I thought.He loves that you can’t get away.
“How does that feel?” he asked.
“Wonderful. And scary.”
He lifted one of his dark brows. “Good. Now, less wonderful, and more scary.” His eyes were dark too, on fire. “Since you’re willing, we’re going to try some new, interesting things. A few more painful things.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“We’ll see if you like them. Well, if you can take them without safe wording.”
My voice quavered. “O-okay.”
He went to his row of storage cabinets, opened a long drawer, and took out a clear Lucite rod. It was thin, even bendy. Almost pretty. He returned to the front of me and tapped it against one of my nipples.
I yelped. God, it stung. He tapped the other and I started flailing around. “Too much?” he asked.
It kind of was, but I shook my head because I wanted to challenge myself. I wanted to get to the magical place where the pain started to feel good. He laughed and put down the Lucite tool, and went for a small, braided leather whip. It didn’t look any friendlier, and when he flicked it against my stomach, I let out another cry of alarm at the hot pain. “How does that feel?” he asked.
“It…it stings, Sir.”
