Page 27 of The Devil's Spawn

But he wouldn’t. Gage had many sides to him, but he rarely wavered on punishment, and holding my orgasm at bay was part of it.

I sucked him to release, accepting every last drop, and despite the desire blazing between my thighs, I felt mostly…content. We finished washing up, then he towel-dried my skin, paying careful attention to his favorite areas before instructing me to bend over the counter.

“I love marking you like this.” He opened a tube of cream and squirted a dollop into his palm. “Your ass was made for me.” As he gently rubbed the soothing balm into my skin, I wondered how he’d managed to coach me through fear, then anger before molding me into a content pile of skin and bones, subservient to his wants and needs, and pliant in his hands.

I had no answers and no chance to mull over his sorcery-like mojo any longer. He scooped me up in his arms and carried me upstairs to our bedroom, winding a path through the darkness to our bed. He set me on my feet before turning down the covers.

“Grab your ankles.”

I did so without question. He probed my pussy, gliding his devious fingers through the evidence of just how fundamentally screwed my body was. And even in the darkness, his face cast in shadow from my bent over position, I knew he was pleased.

He’d punished my ass to his liking and had nearly brought me to orgasm enough times to leave me drenched around his fingers. Gage Channing’s work for the day was done. His self-satisfied sigh confirmed it as he pulled me into bed beside him, yanking my stinging ass snug against his thighs. And though he didn’t voice the words, his long sigh told me all I needed to know.

That night, I fell asleep wrapped in his forgiveness and love.

13. Tender Mercy

Gage was having my masquerade gown designed. He’d stuffed most of my closet with custom made clothing from some of the top designers in the world. Every button and bead had been added down to his specifications. If I were going to be his trophy wife, then he’d outfit me like one. Considering the charity ball was less than a week away, he’d put a rush on my dress, no doubt paying a ridiculously high premium.

“Not even a teensy little hint?” I needled him, lying on top of his body because I still couldn’t sit without pain after the punishment he’d issued the previous night.

“You’ll see it Friday night.” His warm hands drifted over my naked backside, his caresses downright hypnotic. The same hands that delivered excruciating pain were also the same hands that moved over my skin in a way that made me feel treasured and loved. I buried my nose in the crook of his neck, suddenly overcome.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“I don’t know. Nothing.” Maybe I was having a woman moment. In fact, that particular curse was due any day.

“Are you worried you’ll lose your privileges?”

The issue had crossed my mind a few times, but I couldn’t say I’d thought about it tonight. Not with the way he’d…God…

He’d made love to me.

“You had honest intentions, Kayla, so I won’t punish you further by taking your car or phone away.”

“Thank you, Master.”

His chest went still as if he were holding his breath. “Are you still angry with me?”

“No, Master. I just wish…” I swallowed hard before forging ahead, knowing he’d want me to share what troubled me. “I wish we had more moments like these.”

Moments where we lost an endless amount of time, tangled as one in the darkness of our bedroom, bodies swallowed in the sheets. These kinds of nights were few and far between.

He grabbed my hips, pulled, and urged me to my knees. “I vow to you right now that we’ll have more of these moments, Kayla.” Nudging my opening with his cock, he shuddered a breath into my hair. “Ride me.”

“Again?”

“Did I stutter?”

With a slow downward thrust, I sheathed his cock.

“Look at me,” he said, fisting my hair with both hands. He pulled my head up by force, too impatient for me to unbury my face on my own. “Don’t forget that I’m calling the shots here. You being on top means nothing.”

I wouldn’t dare to be so foolish. He’d allowed me the sacred privilege of control twice since I’d known him—only because I’d tied him to the bed in a role reversal he probably still regretted to this day. But truthfully, Gage had wielded power over me both times, because that’s who he was. Even gagged and tied, he’d owned me.

And he always would.

“I don’t want fast and hard,” he said, fingers loosening in my hair. “Fuck me slowly.”

---