Page 87 of Voyeur
Power.
She looks up at me, her blonde hair fanned out on the pillow, her blue eyes seeming to glow in the moonlight as she bites her lip. It’s all I can do to keep my composure. But she needs to know who I am. Needs to know the full extent of what she’s getting into with me.
There’s an innate sense in all humans if we look hard enough. If we listen. One that tells us when a predator is nearby. And it’s that very sense that keeps women away from me. Even in broad daylight, they turn and walk the other way when I’m near them. I don’t blame them; I just know that’s how it is.
Women I fuck are paid handsomely and have signed contracts with the companies I buy them from to keep their mouths shut.
Reaching into my back pocket, I grab the handcuffs I’d brought to use finishing my house call at Ryker’s house. I let them dangle from one finger, her eyes skimming over them as she breathes out.
“Hands above your head, little one,” I tell her, and she obliges too quickly.
Everything she does putsmeon edge, and it should be the other way around. What happened to her is always at the back of my mind. Always looming. And what role I played in it. Unknowingly, of course, but still.
She’s either the strongest woman I know, or she’s playing a game. And I don’t have time to figure it out. And if I’m honest, I don’t want to. I’ll ride the board she’s set against me for as long as she’ll keep me in play.
I make quick work of handcuffing her to the bed frame that’s made of iron-worked metal, patterns of flowers if I remember right. I usually only visit in the dark.
Her breathing has increased as I’ve subdued her, and I realize she’s going to need an out.
“Pick a safeword,” I tell her.
“What?” she squeaks.
“Pick a word that will bring me back from the edge. One, that if uttered, will alert me to stop.”
Her beautiful blonde brows crease together in thought. “Voyeur,” she says, and I can’t help my smirk.
“That’s your word, keep it in your head the entire time. I will stop if you need me to. You are in control, Carina. Not me.”
She laughs heatedly when I lean down and capture her nipple in my mouth. “I’m tied to a bed with handcuffs. I’m not in control.”
I pop off her breast, and she whimpers. It sends a thrill right to the tip of my cock. “Test it, then, hmm.”
She sucks in a breath when I place the tip of my blade to her pussy lip, twirling as she’s seen me do to my leg. The tip spins, pressing further and further into her flesh.
But she opens to me like a flower on the first day of spring, a moan decorating the air.
“Fuck,” she rasps, lifting her ass off the bed and pressing into my blade’s bite.
“Carina, fuck,” I groan, watching her come alive under my touch. At every turn, she surprises me and drives me wild.
She might be the death of me.
When I pull the blade back, the smallest drop of blood metallically tangs the air. I drop and find it with my tongue, lapping it up before sucking her pussy lip into my mouth. She bucks against my mouth, and I grin wickedly.
Her wetness coats my face where she’s writhed against it, and I wipe it off, licking the mess from my hand as she eyes me, writhing in the cuffs and making enough noise to grate my soul.
“So fucking wet for me, little one.”
She nods. “Always.”
Something about her admission solidifies her feelings toward me. She might not know me personally, she might question her sanity at how much she wants me, but she does want me, all the same.
“How did that feel? Bleeding for me?” I ask.
“At first, it hurt. Then it felt so good, like everything was racing in my veins, like I was skydiving off the highest cliff.”
I lean over her, letting my hardness brush her center through my pants, and she bucks again, meeting it with fervor. My lips find hers in the dark, like they were made to, and our kiss is like nothing I’ve ever felt.