Sweet Temptation (25 page)

So he did the only thing he knew to do. He kissed her.

He caught her gasp of surprise and swallowed it up. Not giving her any time to protest, he licked over her lips and then plunged inside. Warm and moist and so damn sweet.

She wrenched away and scooted backward across the bed, her eyes shooting daggers at him. And she definitely wasn’t crying.

“Go to hell, Micah.”

She hissed and spit like an angry kitten. A broad smile attacked his face at the image, which only served to piss her off more.

“You think it’s funny?”

He molded his features into a solemn expression and regarded her as earnestly as he could.

“I don’t find you running around the streets of Houston when a madman is on the loose funny at all.”

“You told me to get out,” she accused.

Micah sighed. “Angel girl, I was pissed off. I wanted you to get out. Of the room, not the house! I needed a few minutes to breathe because I didn’t want to tear a strip off your hide in my temper. I don’t remember you being this sensitive before.”

She gaped incredulously at him, and then before he could defend himself, she smacked him with a pillow. Hard. “It’s my fault because I’m sensitive?”

He reached over to snatch the pillow before she could launch it again. He snagged her wrist and held it in front of her and then slid on the bed next to her.

“Look, Angel. I’ve got a temper. I lost it. You dropped a bomb. I didn’t react well. I can’t apologize for reacting the way I did, but I can guarantee you it will happen again. You seem to have the knack of getting under my skin like no one else.”

“What the hell kind of apology is that?” she demanded.

Again he sighed. They were getting nowhere and he wanted to get her back to The House pronto. Ignoring the small fist beating his chest, he simply swept her up in his arms and strode toward the living room.

“Let me down,” she said behind gritted teeth.

Micah nodded to Connor as they past. “Get the door for me?”

Connor’s lips were twisted in amusement, but to his credit, he didn’t say anything. He opened the door for them and waved at Angelina.

“See you later, sweetie.”

“Traitor!” she hissed.

Micah dumped her into his truck and then pointed a finger at her. “You don’t move. I swear to God, Angelina, if you so much as try to get out of this truck, I’ll tan your ass like there’s no tomorrow, and furthermore I’ll enjoy it.”

She stared rigidly ahead as he slammed the door. He hurried around to the driver’s side and slid in beside her.

Not wanting to waste any more time in plain sight, he started the engine and pulled out of the lot.

“I won’t apologize,” she said stiffly. “I know you’re pissed, and maybe you have the right, but I refuse to apologize for caring about you.”

His chest caved in just a little bit at the ferocity of her words.

“Damn but you know how to take the wind out of someone’s sails,” he grumbled. “It’s damn hard to stay pissed at you when you come at me like that.”

She frowned harder at him.

“I’m not nearly as pissed at you over Mama Rose—but don’t think we won’t talk about it again—as I am over you leaving alone. Damn it, Angel, he could have gotten to you and there isn’t a damn thing I could have done about it!”

“You told me to leave.”

“Hell, I tell you a lot of things and you don’t ever seem to think you have to listen. Why on earth would you pick now to become all obedient on me?”

Her lips twitched suspiciously and she looked away to hide her smile.

He reached over to take her hand. “I never meant for you to take it so literally, but you know what? Even if I had meant it, you should have told me to go to hell just like you’re telling me now and you should have locked yourself in another room for three days and withheld sex if you really wanted to punish me.”

Her shoulders shook. She dragged a hand through her long, unruly hair and looked at him with a grimace. “So you’re saying I overreacted.”

He shrugged. “We were both upset. I’m just saying you should have stood your ground. You’ve never had that problem before.”

“I’ve never cared about someone this much before.”

His chest tightened, his throat closed off, and he gripped the steering wheel all the more tightly.

“Don’t care about me, Angel,” he said hoarsely. “Save your love for someone else.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” she said calmly.

Micah shook his head as if he could shake off her words. He didn’t want this. Didn’t want to become emotionally involved, and he didn’t want to hurt her. He’d been honest with her. Brutally so. Sex was all he could offer her. Sex and his domination. How the hell was that a substitute for love? He’d had love once, and he damn well knew sex was a piss-poor substitute.

He was still inwardly seething when they pulled up to The House. Angelina started to open her door, but he stopped her by grabbing her wrist.

“Don’t get any ideas of running and hiding from me now, Angel girl. It’s time to pay the piper.”

CHAPTER 33

A
ngelina stared at him with a mixture of nervousness and heightened awareness. Arousal flooded her veins at the authority in his voice, and yet she felt compelled to argue.

“This was all your fault, Hudson. Not mine. If anyone needs punishing, it’s you.”

He had no liking for the reminder of him being underneath her whip. His eyes narrowed dangerously and he rubbed a thumb sensuously over the pulse at her wrist.

“Who said anything about punishment?” he said silkily. “Maybe I enjoy watching you writhe under the heat of a whip, how you flinch away and then beg for more with your next breath.”

She swallowed as heat rose from her belly to her throat. There was no denying his effect on her. Already she felt the touch of leather on her skin. The pain and exquisite pleasure all rolled into one.

“Hell, if I wanted to punish you, I’d lock you in your room and withhold sex from you. Something tells me I might survive it longer than you,” he said in amusement.

She yanked her wrist from his grasp and glared at him. He met her gaze and then said in a low voice, “Inside, Angel girl. It’s time to take what’s mine.”

On shaking legs, she walked into The House ahead of Micah. How quickly she’d gone from upset to anger and now to aching arousal. He brought out the best and worst in her, but then she’d always known loving him wouldn’t be easy.

She chanced a look over her shoulder as they entered, and the answering arousal she saw in his eyes sent a shiver straight up her spine. He wouldn’t be easy tonight, and maybe a part of her longed for him to give her every ounce of his passion, his need. She wanted him to take her to her very limits. It both frightened and excited her.

“Upstairs,” he directed.

The walk seemed endless, each step more difficult than the last. For all her dread, anticipation licked over her skin like fire over dry wood.

His hand closed around her arm when they stood at the top of the stairs, and he turned her in the direction of the common room. It was dark when they entered, and he flipped the lights, flooding the room.

It looked different without people having sex. It looked almost normal except for the miscellaneous pieces of furniture positioned around the room. A spanking stool. Would he use it? No, what he intended went beyond a simple spanking she was sure.

Sure enough he motioned her toward the beam where he’d flogged her that first night. She stood silently under it, waiting his command.

His gaze slid over her, his eyes gleaming with approval.

“Take off your clothes, Angel. Slowly. Pants first. Then your shirt. Leave your underwear on for now.”

She fumbled with the snap of her jeans. Despite her attempt to be graceful and seductive, she knew she appeared clumsy. Remembering his dictate, she peeled the denim slowly down her hips. Picking up one leg, she pulled her foot out, and then she did the other. She felt surprisingly vulnerable and she had yet to take off her shirt.

There wasn’t much to her underwear. Sheer lace, soft and silky, with thin strings over the curve of her hips connected to a small triangle at the juncture of her legs.

Her bra matched, a simple push-up to display her small breasts to their best advantage. Even being the breast man she knew him to be, Micah didn’t seem disappointed in her assets.

Chill bumps spread across her chest and belly when she tossed the shirt aside.

“Arms up,” he commanded.

She raised her arms over her head, each feeling like it had a hundred-pound weight attached.

He pulled her wrists and looped the leather ties around them then pulled tight to secure the loops to the beam. She had to go up on the balls of her feet as her body stretched. Her back bowed under the strain, pushing her breasts until they threatened to spill out of her bra.

Micah stepped around, his hand sliding over her belly and up to cup her breast through the material of her bra. He pushed, plumping the swell until her nipple peeked over the lace.

Electricity sizzled through her body when he brushed his thumb over the taut peak. Once, twice and then again, until it puckered and strained outward as if begging for more.

He bent his dark head to her breast and nipped sharply at the bud, seizing it between his teeth. He bit down hard and simultaneous streaks of pleasure and pain pushed her forward, arching desperately into him.

He went to his knees in front of her, his big hands gliding down her sides. His lips skimmed over her taut belly and he ended in a kiss just above the lace band of her panties.

There was no way she’d ever be able to explain to another person how she felt bending to his control. She was helpless before him, her body his to do with what he wanted. He liked inflicting pain, liked exerting his will, but she loved receiving it just as much. They were two halves to a whole, their passions the same. They were aroused by the same kinks, the same dark thrills.

She craved more. He was a drug, and he held her in his thrall.

Her underwear slipped down her legs, and he gently lifted each foot until she was free of the material. Then he ran his hands back up her legs as if he were worshipping her with every caress. No, he wasn’t punishing her. Micah did nothing in anger. He simply wanted to see her bound before him while he exerted his mastery over her body. His pleasure. Hers. They were irrevocably entwined.

He lifted her legs, supporting her as she hung by the leather ties around her wrists. Even as he lifted, he spread her, baring her pussy to his avid gaze.

“You have the prettiest pussy,” he murmured, his mouth just a breath away from her most intimate flesh. “So small and feminine. I love to watch my dick open you up, see you stretched so tight around me that I wonder if you can take all of me.”

He looped her legs over his shoulders, and slid one hand to the soft folds between them. He ran a finger down her slit and back up again. At the top, he delved inward, finding the hood of flesh that sheltered her clit. He traced the edge, flaring it outward before finally touching the pulsing button.

She closed her eyes and threw back her head, her hands straining at her bonds. And then his mouth found her. Hot, damp and urgent. He tongued her, licking lower down to her entrance and then back up again to swirl around her clit.

Using his fingers, he parted her flesh and began lapping, his rough tongue setting fire to her insides. Over and over again he licked, teasing and torturous.

He found her opening and teased the rim. Circling, his tongue flicked with the lightest of brushes. And then he latched on, sucking hard as if he wanted to taste everything she had to offer.

It was simply too much. She exploded into his mouth and he never let up. Her anguished cry echoed across the room. Her legs trembled and quaked against his head, and still he wouldn’t let up.

Slowly and tenderly, her worked her down from her orgasm, licking and soothing her pulsing flesh. When he finally released her, she sagged like a deflated balloon.

Her pulse raced, and she heaved for air as he collected one of the many whips from the wall. This was no silken flogger meant to titillate more than bring pain.

He doubled it over then brushed it under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Do you want a safe word, Angelina? Do you want to be able to quit?”

She shook her head. “I trust you.”

“Then you’re a fool,” he bit out.

“You’ll know when to stop,” she said resolutely, so much conviction shining in her voice that she throbbed. “You’ll know when I can’t take any more.”

His eyes flickered, and his mouth drew into a grim line. With those words she had ceded complete and utter power to him. He was solely responsible for her well-being.

“So be it.”

He walked soundlessly behind her, and she closed her eyes, waiting for that first lash. It was always the worst. Unexpected and shocking. Afterward she’d know what to expect.

The whip sliced through the air, and only a faint whistle alerted her a split second before fire blistered across her back.

She clamped her lips shut against the cry that threatened to burst out. Heat raced across her flesh, leaving a sharp ache in its wake. After the initial bloom of pain, pleasure blossomed and radiated through her abdomen.

Her nipples tightened and her pussy pulsed in anticipation. This was her sweet. Her sugar rush to end all rushes. Pain was a high for her that could never be explained. Only experienced.

The second lash came harder, surprising her with its intensity. She gasped and then held on to the sensation, not wanting it to fade away.

When he took too long to administer the third lash, she moaned her disappointment. His hand tangled in her hair and he yanked her head back, his lips pressing against her temple.

“I’m in charge here, Angel. Not you. I call the shots. This isn’t about your pleasure or pain. It’s mine. You’re mine. You just have to stand here and take it.”

He released her hair then backed away again. She swallowed rapidly, trying to quell the rise of anticipation that threatened to overwhelm her.

Breathe. She had to remember to breathe.

Her body jerked, the leather straps digging into her wrists as she reacted to the third lash. Tears swamped her eyes, and she breathed raggedly through her open mouth. Oh God. Red. So much red. It gathered in her periphery and the room swirled around her.

Four. Five. Six. The lashes fell, the sound sharp. She twisted and writhed, but she endured without a sound.

Seven. Eight. Nine.

A low hum settled in her ears and she floated, no longer feeling the strain on her wrists. She was enveloped by warmth, soft and comforting. She smiled even as she closed her eyes in anticipation of the next lash.

This. This is what she craved. The high after the pain. The edge and then toppling over. It was dreamy, smooth, more exotic than anything else she’d ever experienced.

He walked around the front and she opened her eyes. He was nude, his cock stiff and distended. Beautiful. So beautiful. His body was sculpted and molded as if someone had lovingly crafted him by hand. His hair hung wild to his shoulders, unruly, like him. Savage.

She saw a kindred soul when she looked into his eyes. Could he see one in hers? Did he recognize her?

The whip came up and flicked across her belly, not as hard as he’d struck her back, but the shock sent her flinching away. Before she could process the sensation, he flipped his wrist and the whip stung across her right breast, perilously close to her nipple. Then her left breast.

She found herself pushing forward, wanting the contact, her nipples surging, tightening, wanting to feel the kiss of the whip.

He feathered welts in a distinct pattern across her chest and abdomen but always missing her nipples. She panted and then sucked air through her nose. She needed. God, she needed.

The whip went silent, and in the next moment excruciating pain and the most indescribable pleasure assaulted her. Her nipples felt pierced by hot needles. Her eyes flew open and she looked down to see a clamp with vicious little teeth attached to each stiff, distended nipple.

Her entire body burned, an inferno that raged across her welted skin. Arousal was savage within her. If she hadn’t been bound, she would have taken Micah before he could ever take her. It was a need so fierce she felt she might die from it.

As if sensing how close she was to absolute overload, he dropped the whip, stalked forward and threw her legs over his forearms, standing to his full height.

She was spread and draped helplessly over him, and he wasted no time possessing her. He yanked her onto his cock, plunging through her swollen tissues like a hot knife through butter. She enveloped him, swallowed him, welcomed him with every particle of her being.

Over and over his hips slapped against her ass. He fucked her savagely, his features drawn tight in agony. He was hard, brutal even, and still she wanted more.

Power rolled through his big body and bled into each thrust. His cock battered her, ramming without mercy. He yanked her forward even as he stepped into every thrust.

Her arms pulled and stretched. Her muscles burned. Her abused flesh protested his every movement.

Without warning, he dropped her limbs, her feet hitting the floor. She stumbled, her hands flexing as her bonds held her upright.

His hand curled around his engorged cock, nearly purple the skin was stretched so tight at the head. He yanked, aiming at her body.

He directed his release onto her skin. It splattered her breasts and rolled between them down to her belly. It splashed onto her thighs and trickled farther downward.

His. He marked her in the most primitive way he could. She loved the feel of his liquid heat sliding down her skin. She felt empowered. She felt beautiful. She felt like she belonged.

He reached up to untie her hands and she collapsed downward. Instead of catching her, he urged her down to her knees and placed a hand to her forehead to tilt her head back.

With his other hand he guided his still erect cock into her mouth.

“Suck me,” he said huskily.

His taste exploded into her mouth, and she ran her tongue along his length, cleaning every drop of fluid from his skin. He rocked back and forth, stroking her cheek with gentle fingers.