Part 9 (2/2)

She froze as his hands palmed her belly again.

”Now for your other half.” He spoke with such softness lacing his voice, she found herself lulled by him.

His hands moved to her waist and his fingers dipped beneath her skirt. She focused on the wetness between her thighs, mentally urging him to bring his hands there.

She held her breath as he tugged at her makes.h.i.+ft skirt. He moved his body away and his thick c.o.c.k disappeared from her b.u.t.tocks. Her skirt slipped over her hips, brushed past her knees and dropped around her ankles. Even if she wanted to run, how could she? Her skirt had effectively become a restraint.

Wow! This guy knew exactly what he was doing.

Something heavy and hot bubbled deep inside her belly as his warm palms slid seductively over the curve of her hips.

Kinley breathed in as every callus on his fingertips traveled like a silk trail along her skin. When he smoothed his palms over her pelvic bones, tracing along where her thighs met her abdomen, erotic heat zipped through her body.

She swallowed, her heart pounding with antic.i.p.ation and fear as his fingers curled across her mons. She tensed when he whispered in her right ear.

”Relax, enjoy. I told you I won't hurt you. Not if you don't want me to.”

Oh my! Maybe he was some sort of s.a.d.i.s.t.

No, he was no s.a.d.i.s.t. He touched her too gently. Too tenderly to hurt.

He must mean pleasure-pain. Yes, he had to mean pleasure-pain. To tell the truth, she wasn't sure whether or not she was into that. But he would most likely help her find out. That is, if she didn't escape first. Not that escape was an option at the moment.

One hand dipped between her thighs. When his finger parted her l.a.b.i.a and stroked her c.l.i.t, she moaned softly at the wicked tremors pulsing deep inside her p.u.s.s.y.

Yes. This feels good.

She hated that she loved it. Loved how he made her feel.

He began a soft ma.s.sage on her engorged c.l.i.t and her legs went wobbly. Her p.u.s.s.y was wet, hot, weeping.

She spread her legs wider and leaned back against his hard muscular frame as she panted. The musical clinking of the chains melted more of her resolve. She moaned in protest as his fingers slid away from her c.l.i.t. More fingers claimed each side of her l.a.b.i.a. He pulled and ma.s.saged and she became wrapped in a world of need, of want, of denial.

On one c.u.n.t lip came a pinch-hot-like the one earlier on her nipple. He was clamping her l.a.b.i.a. The other lip got pinched. A slow burn followed.

Her body hummed.

He soothingly tugged the chain. The clamps jerked gently on her l.a.b.i.a and the chain dipped between her legs, brushed against her tender c.l.i.t. Then a hand came from behind, between her legs, the chains singing their musical song as they tinkled in his fingers. He yanked the chain up behind her and she gasped as it slid through her a.s.s crack. Suddenly her l.a.b.i.a were pulled tight and so were the clamps on her nipples.

Erotic s.h.i.+vers burst through her p.u.s.s.y and b.r.e.a.s.t.s, bringing her to the dark edge of need. Once again she almost gave in to the urge to tell him to f.u.c.k her, but she struggled to breathe that idea away.

No, she couldn't let him see the effect he had on her. She had to have some sort of pride. She'd been so deep in thought, in denial, wrapped in her sensuality, she didn't even realize he'd moved away from her.

She almost fell.

”Replace your garment. We must leave now,” he muttered. His voice was unmistakably drenched in l.u.s.t.

While she quickly pulled up her skirt his high arousal caught the corner of her eye. Scorching appreciation slid like wildfire through her veins. Touching her had made him just as heated as she'd become. Disappointment rocked her as he covered his bulging erection beneath his loincloth, and she wondered who would be the first to break down and beg.

Her?

Or him?

If she were a betting woman, she'd say whoever broke first, they'd do so sooner rather than later.

A brisk yank on the chain pulled everything tight, making her gasp in surprise at the exquisite tremors s.h.i.+mmering through her. The tug was his indication to follow him.

And so she did.

Blackie's c.o.c.k screamed for release. He had expected this overwhelming reaction to touching her. He just hadn't entertained the thought she would bring him so easily to his knees.

In the past several years in Death Valley, he had instructed many females as s.e.x chattel for the males. Had learned to treat them with tenderness, with strength and firmness as one would train a horse. He'd even taught a few females to become addicted to menages. He'd enjoyed sharing these women. Enjoyed the pleasure on their faces.

But this female he did not wish to share. This female he did not wish to train or take against her will. He did not wish to break her spirit.

He just wanted her the way she was.

Fiery. Angry. Confused. That's how she'd looked at him when he began to lead her on her leash. She looked needy...for him. Just as he was needy for her.

G.o.ddess of Freedom! Had she put a spell on him? Did she know how she affected him? That scorching flames of l.u.s.t branded his flesh every time he gazed upon her?

She must know. He'd seen her spying on him as he had re-clothed himself. Her eyes had widened as appreciation tensed her body. Her cheeks had blushed with antic.i.p.ation and the tip of her pink tongue darted from between her slightly parted lips.

Perhaps she thought him too big for her? His c.o.c.k too long and too thick? That he would hurt her upon entering her v.a.g.i.n.a? He had tricks to make a female wet and this one had been very wet as he'd ma.s.saged her c.l.i.t. Her warm cream had splashed against his hand. She was aroused even while she was bound.

He had quickly brought her in touch with her s.e.xuality and she had enjoyed it. He had enjoyed it. A zing of frustration laced through him at the thought of returning to Death Valley. As per their new rules, she would belong to the Boys-as all the other females did.

She would go to any male or males who wished to f.u.c.k her. Unless, of course, he wished to fight for her. He suspected he would have to fight for her every day for the rest of his life if he went back to Death Valley. He grimaced. If he fought the males, then he wouldn't have the strength to fight her.

Thunder groaned somewhere on the darkening horizon. They would need to take cover. Fast.

The stormy season would be here soon. They would need to find shelter on higher ground. A new sense of urgency made him pull harder on the leash. He ignored her yelp of surprise as he led her toward the nearby cliffs. The cliffs contained the caves. There they could find shelter and rest, and there they could f.u.c.k.

Chapter Six.

A sensual drowsiness embraced Kinley as she followed the man who'd captured and collared her. The terrain was rough and flat on the plateau they were walking along. They'd left the jungle quite awhile ago and he was heading toward the dark, rocky outcropping that appeared closer than it was in reality.

They would need some form of shelter before the looming storm hit, because far in the distance behind them, ominous, rolling black clouds were drawing closer. Thunder cracked and she cringed as every forked, white flash of lightning arrowed to the ground. But that lightning was nothing compared to the electrical jolts s.h.i.+fting through her body with every step.

The journey had started out easily enough. She'd been able to handle the humiliation of this man leading her around by the collar. It almost seemed as though she were used to the collar. Used to being bound. But that was crazy, because she could remember nothing.

She was able to grit her teeth as the pleasure-pain sparkled through her nipples and l.a.b.i.a, compliments of the clamps and the way he'd bound her with thin silvery chains. She could even handle the chain he'd slipped between her l.a.b.i.a. It seemed oddly soft as it rubbed and caressed and tugged at her highly aroused c.l.i.t, not to mention it sensually rubbed the crack between her a.s.s cheeks.

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