Page 37 of Thorns Laced In Blood

“Give me your name, darling,” I said, bathing my fingers in her sticky dew and gliding them through her folds until her eyes dilated and her breathing became erratic.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, but the fear was gone. I smiled at her and trailed my fingers downward, resting them between her fleshy cheeks and teasing the rough skin with my fingertips. Her mouth fell open, and she started to pant.

“Give me your name, and I will give you what you need. Here,” I said, increasing the pressure against her backdoor.

She parted her legs for me, but her tactics wouldn’t work on me. Not this morning. I reached for the whip, watching her eyeslight up as I flicked the soft leather before trailing them from her neck to her pussy until she groaned.

I could wait.

She couldn’t.

Her silence was her final defiance, and right now, I merely existed for one purpose. To break her.

Sometimes, you have to be cruel to be kind.

Chapter 23

Maeve

The smile on his lips contradicted the unrelenting determination in his eyes. He knew. He knew the devil’s name. The name I never spoke because I knew it would be a death sentence for me. I didn’t kill him, but Master was offering me more, but it came with a price.

My breath hitched as his hand lifted, and the sharp whip cut through the air. A hundred whispered secrets dragged across my thighs, each suede strand kissing and then stinging like nettles. I arched against the cuffs as they teased the same path three times, four until my skin hummed with anticipation.

I closed my eyes, savouring the sensations before they vanished. I opened my eyes, silently begging for more. Offering my body to him. He didn’t need to use handcuffs to bind me to him.

No, he wants your words. Your name. My mind screamed at me.

I bit my lip, tasting the metallic blood. The pain grounded me. His fingers pried my lip away from my teeth.

“Give me your name, darling, and I will give you all the pain you need,” he said, rubbing my lip. “Like this.”

Crack.

A lightning-fast strike of white heat hit me between my legs. My gasp echoed off the headboard as my body betrayed me, hips lifting, nerves singing. The after-burn spread like whiskey in my veins, warmth pooling low as my thighs fell open wider.

Crack.

Another lash. This one curled around my nipple, the pain blooming into pleasure so sharp I sobbed. My body remembered before my mind that the devil had hardwired me to love the alchemy of hurt and heat. A twisted combination that my current Master wielded like a weapon against me.

“Master,” I whimpered, the sound was pathetic, but I needed more. “Please.”

I almost sobbed with relief when he spread my thighs, but he turned the whip around to show me the smooth, dark polish of the wooden handle. He trailed the handle between my folds, teasing the entrance.

“Your name,” he said, his voice hard and resolute.

I licked my bloody lip nervously before pursing my lips together. His slow smile should have been my warning. He pushed the handle inside me. I felt the hard wood penetrate me, giving me what I needed. I stared into his darkened green eyes as he began to move the instrument of pain and pleasure.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

He pulled it out and inspected the wet handle. I held my breath, but he picked up a clear bottle of lubricant and doused the handle with it. When he pressed it against my asshole, my breath came out. I wanted to scream at him.

Do it. Fuck my ass.

I moaned when the slippery handle forced my hole to part for him. My Master. The one who made me feel safe. The one who was peeling away my defences, layer by layer. For a moment, I slipped back intohismemories. The pills, mockery, making me beg for him to violate my asshole. To feel something. Anything. Master’s voice pierced through the memory.

“Your name,” Master growled, twisting the handle just enough to make me gasp.

“Actually, take your time. I have all day,” he mused, dragging the handle out slowly before thrusting it back in.

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