She squirmed, trying to turn away from the pain, but it was everywhere. All around her, inside her, and in every direction. All roads led to pain.
“What’s happening?” She had never felt pain like this before, as if she were being branded between the legs by a hot iron.
“The blood is rushing back in, making your nerves highly sensitive.” He gently blew on her, sending a second shock of white-hot pain through her.
If she wasn’t careful, she was going to pull a muscle trying to yank herself free of her bindings.
Who would willingly put themselves through this kind of agony? Did people actually find pleasure in having their genitals lit up like they were being tattooed by battery acid?
“Just breathe through it,” he said again, caressing her thighs. “Try to relax.”
How the hell was she supposed to relax when her most intimate flesh felt like someone had pierced it with fifty hot needles at once. Still, she tried to do as he asked, forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths.
After several seconds, the worst of the pain began to abate, helped by the way he was kissing his way up and down her inner thighs. Intense pleasure began to replace the pain, making her writhe and tug against the ropes for a whole other reason.
When he passed his mouth over her core a few seconds later, blowing gently, she almost came on the spot.
Gasping, she arched off the bed.
A soft, devilish chuckle rumbled from his throat. “Now you see.” He blew air over her again as he crossed back to the other side.
Holy fuck! She was going to come. He wasn’t even going to have to touch her.
The very tip of his tongue flicked across the narrow stretch of skin where her thigh met her body. Just a quick swipe of his tongue, then he crossed back to the other leg, gently blowing. Flick, blow, flick, blow . . . every light stroke of his tongue drew closer to her center than the last.
“Warren . . . I’m . . . can’t stop . . .” Panting deliriously, she couldn’t even form a coherent thought. The orgasm swelling inside her like an overfilled balloon choked off her ability to think, to speak, to do anything but prepare to explode into tiny pieces.
She had no idea if she had his permission to come, but at this point, it didn’t matter. She couldn’t stop this train from plowing into her even if she wanted to.
His tongue lightly flicked the hood just above her clit.
“Warren!”
Her hands fisted, her arms flexed helplessly, her legs shuddered like she was experiencing her own personal earthquake. When his tongue swirled a gentle, delicate circle around her clit, her back arched so violently as white lightning arced through her body that she was shocked she didn’t herniate a disc.
Somehow, he managed to stay with her, closing his mouth over her clit and holding his tongue against her as explosive waves of contractions pulsed through her body from head to toe, shattering her as she convulsed and cried out through each vicious aftershock.
She was still coming when he removed his mouth with a wicked lick and left the bed. Then came the telltale whirring sound of a vibrator.
Ah hell, was he going to—
The thick head of what could only be a wand vibrator pressed against her core, making her back arch again. Between the lingering pain, as well as the pleasure still zipping through her, she ascended Orgasm Mountain for a second time, splintering less than a minute later.
It didn’t take long for her to release again when he inserted a G-spot vibrator while sucking her clit, flicking it with his tongue.
Jenna didn’t know if it was the two hours of mental stimulation in the dungeon, the weeks of phone sex that had built her anticipation to a fever pitch, the way he’d titillated her at the Met, the fact that she still hadn’t seen his face, or a combination of factors, but now that she’d started coming, she couldn’t stop. Like a faucet someone had left on, orgasmic spasms flooded her body with near-supernatural bliss. The orgasms themselves began to feel like torture. But good torture. Really good, she-never-wanted-it-to-end torture.
She couldn’t explain when it happened, but at some point, euphoria set in. Like she was having an out-of-body experience while she remained firmly grounded in her body, so deep inside herself that she felt like she was in another universe.
“Don’t stop . . .” she murmured as he took her over the edge again.
“Do you want more?” he asked, his voice seeming to come from far away.
She nodded and licked her lips. “More.” Her own voice sounded far away, too, as if she were talking from across the room.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” he said from above her.
More nodding. “Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Please . . . yes. God, yes.”
She became aware of the bed moving, the sound of his belt being unbuckled, the whir of a zipper begin unzipped. There was the tear of plastic, like a condom wrapper begin ripped open. A pause as he rolled it on.
Then his weight came down on top of her, his mouth found hers, and his length plunged into her.
Each driving thrust bounced her on the bed, their bodies slapping together, hers nothing more than a vessel of pleasure.
She came again, the surreal sensations pulsing through her almost calmly, making her body shiver from head to toe.
“You were made for this life,” he said through a clenched throat, lifting up on his arms. “You were made for me.”
She wanted to hold him, wanted to wrap her arms around him and drive her fingernails into his ass as he continued to claim her.
Never had she met a man more attuned to her needs, who could wring orgasms out of her like he was wringing water from a sponge.
She released again, whimpering as her stomach twitched and her arms and legs trembled uncontrollably.
His thrusts stuttered as a guttural grunt burst from his throat. “Fuck.” His hips slammed forward as a long harsh growl dragged out of his
