This time, as it nudged up against her quivering walls, a spasm took her. It was a small crisis, a tiny flood of bliss, but he noticed.
“Did you just come?”
“N-no, Sir.”
“Liar.” But his words held no heat. He thumbed a nipple. Pinched. Delight shot from her breasts to her weeping slit. Her entire body thrummed with every beat of her heart. His hand made a slow path down her body, over the gathers of her skirt, and found the damp nest between her thighs. He toyed with her pearl as he eased the hideous phallus in and out and in again.
“Please!”
“Nice.” He nuzzled her neck. “I love when you beg, sweeting. But now it’s time to get serious.”
“What!?”
He didn’t answer. She hated that he stepped away. Hated the absence of his heat. Hated his absence altogether.
When he returned from his rummaging, he lifted the ruffles of her skirt and fit a thick belt around her waist, tightening it until it cut into her flesh. It was cold. She couldn’t imagine what it was for, but he gave her little time to wonder, drawing an unseen strap between her legs and securing it to the belt in front and back. It held the phallus in place. Inside her. Cradling it.
Her head went a little woozy with relief—because she would no longer have to work so hard to keep it from falling out—but perhaps there was a touch of dismay slithering through her as well. Because it was wedged up inside her. Filling her. Tantalizing the screaming nerves of her channel.
And she couldn’t come.
Edward—the brigand—hadn’t been joking when he said he was ready to get serious. Now, having so completely prepared her for his salacious attention, he went to work.
She could see nothing. Only feel. So each lash, each kiss, each agonizing caress was a surprise. He varied them. Harsh to sweet to unthinkably devious. She had no idea what items he was using to ply her trembling body with such unrelenting bliss. He kept her constantly on the edge of a taunting release.
He smacked her nipples—each in turn—with the leather flap of the quirt, keeping up the barrage until they were hard and taut and swollen beyond belief. Then he would take them in his mouth and soothe them with sweet suckles, or fill his mouth with cool brandy and cause her to flinch and gasp as cold kissed scalding heat.
As he licked and lapped sweetly above, he barraged her with gentle slaps over and around the strap covering her most tender button. The thick strip covered her, but as the phallus slipped lower and lower—though never completely falling out—the strap tightened, increasing the pressure on her pearl. When the leather slipped between the folds on her labia, the burning smacks fell directly on her lower lips.
And when her breathing quickened, when her body quickened, he would stop. Just stop. She could tell he was still there, probably staring at her, definitely sipping his brandy now and again as she heard the glass settle on the table before he returned, but he said nothing.
Her body was on fire. Her mind in a whirl. Her gut curled into a knot—a knot of want.
Tears streamed down her face, dampening the blindfold.
She did not know how much longer she could bear this.
“Edward.” Her voice was hoarse from her cries. Something in her ragged tone spoke to her desperation. “Edward.”
He came to her side at once. “Darling? Are you all right?”
“I need… I need… I need.”
Gently, he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. “I know. I know you need.”
“I can’t… I can’t…”
“Not much longer now. You’ve done very well.” His lips were warm against her brow. He licked the tears from her cheek. “Not much longer now.”
He released the belt and the phallus fell to the floor with a thud. His palm skated over her burning bottom. She shivered as he pulled a cheek aside and something slick nudged her—oh, heavens. Something slick nudged her pucker. Eased in.
She groaned. A sound dredged from the depth of her being, from the deepest, darkest well. The strangest wash of pleasure flooded her as he eased a slender rod into her arse.
“No!”
“Yes.” He silenced her denial by plunging three fingers into her cunt. She sucked in a breath and fought the welling insanity, the clawing desire to release.
“I-I…”
“Hold on. Just hold on.”
She nearly fainted when he released her legs and wrists. He led her across the room and bent her over a rounded bar. She realized it was, of course, the footboard of the bed. He tied her wrists again—to what, she did not know. But when he pulled the rope tight, her hands lifted toward the head of the bed.
He strapped her ankles to either side of the bed as well, completely opening her.