The Spy Who Spanked Me by Gemma Woods

Author:Gemma Woods [Woods, Gemma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: BIN 011245-03660
Publisher: Changeling Press LLC
Published: 2024-07-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

Each hard breath felt like a lead weight in her chest. The skin between her breasts, pierced by the heat of the wax, ached with a burning, raw sensation. And yet… the fear, the pain, had her panting like a bitch in heat. The sensitized nub between her thighs still throbbed from the sordid, wonderful attentions of his mouth.

Those tantalizing lips were thinned in displeasure now. Her tormenter, her master for this night, stared down at her with icy blue eyes burning behind the slits in his mask. “Don’t mistake passion for weakness. Answer my questions or I will torture you in truth.”

Her heart thundered even as heat pooled low in her belly. Passion and terror. How closely twined these disparate emotions were.

He knew it, too. This was the man behind the mask, the face he didn’t show to a soul. This barely controlled passion, this ferocious need to ply a female body with luscious pain. A man who reveled in passion, who drove her to climax with the sharp bite of his teeth. A man unashamed and unquestioning of the deepest needs of his body.

Were his threats real? After the amazing things he’d done, could he kill her without a thought? Something in his manner, some little hesitation, a hint of reserve, told her he would set her free.

Eventually.

Until then, her body was his to use… and he couldn’t use her soon enough. Even after a shattering climax, the hollow between her legs ached to be filled. Nothing would satisfy her but a long, hard, tupping.

A flash of light stung her eyes -- the knife was in his hand, lamplight flashing off the surface. The blade lowered to her chest, cool where the wax had been searing hot only moments before.

He stroked her with the cutting edge, back and forth, tracing a slow, icy trail down her belly. “Tell me your name. The truth this time.”

Arrogant bastard. Her chin went up of its own volition. “Marie Antoinette.”

Was that a hint of amusement curling his lip? A glimmer of admiration in his eyes?

The cool edge of the knife slivered across her throat, raising goose bumps. Back and forth, the icy threat of death only a hair’s breadth from slicing her flesh. Her pulse leapt, blood flooding to the spot. She pressed her head into the mattress, trying to ease the pressure of the knife.

“Don’t tease me, sweeting. You’ve already witnessed what this blade can do.”

Goodness, this was the same knife? Heat pooled between her legs, even as her flesh shivered. As if he knew, he traced back down her chest to her belly, drawing a fine, scraping line with the sharp knife, using just enough pressure to threaten. With only the slightest flex of his wrist, he could cut her.

The image of his blade drawing blood flashed into her head. Would he tup her with blood between her breasts? Smear the liquid between them like a pagan bonding ritual?

Wicked, wicked desires. She’d never wanted a man so desperately. His teasing games and tormenting pleasures had primed her beyond belief.

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