Forbidden Sensations: A Dark Romance by Savannah Rose (best ereader for pdf and epub .TXT) 📗

The head of my cock brushed against the soft fluff of her pubic hair. I clenched my teeth. She wasn't wearing any panties. I hadn't packed any for her.

I jerked forward, forgetting for just a moment that I wasn't able to grab her, roll my body on top of hers, and take her. The cuffs pinched against my wrists, not giving an inch. I threw my head upward as much as I could, the muscles in my neck straining, my breath becoming deeper, heavier. I pinched my eyes shut.

She began to giggle. Not the sweet, light chuckle of a playful sex partner. Her laugh had an essence of self-satisfaction, with a hint of madness beneath it.

“You want me, huh, Maddy? You want me bad,” she said, and the downy softness of her womanhood lifted away from me. Replaced with the cold edge of her blade. “You want this, too?”

My breath caught in my chest. My eyes flew open, I looked down, and saw her knife resting against my shaft. I couldn't draw another gulp of air, the manacles would not allow me to move, there was nothing I could do except pray to God she wasn't going to do what I thought that madness may have wanted her to.

She dismounted, still keeping the razor-sharp edge against me, and put her other hand beneath my chin. She shoved my head back up against the trunk of the tree.

I didn't want to keep my eyes open.

I didn't want to see it coming.

“Look at me, Maddy,” she said.

I kept my eyelids pressed together and clenched my teeth hard as I felt the blade press against my cock a little harder.

“I said look at me.”

I sucked in another breath, and opened my eyes. She was so close, I could smell her breath. Warm, and rushing over my cheek. And her eyes were twinkling. Madness, yes, but also confusion accompanying a quiet trace of puzzlement.

“You'd think this would be a hard-on killer,” she noted, rocking the knife back and forth, micrometers away from cutting me open like a bratwurst. “But you're special. Very, very special.”

Her eyes narrowed. The twinkle, the confusion, it all instantly disappeared. Now, there was nothing but pure hatred staring back at me. Unabashed, total detest.

Her limpid, chocolate brown eyes glared into mine, and when she placed the tip of the steel just between my balls, I gasped. It sounded like a cry. A girly, helpless cry, and I fucking hated it.

A quick expulsion of air came through her nostrils. I couldn't tell if it was amusement, or shame, or both.

She drew the knife tip against my scrotum. It wasn’t cutting me. If anything, it was more like a single, long fingernail tracing its way up my flesh, up my cock, and lingering below my belly button.

I looked down, almost hyperventilating by now, my head growing lighter as I inhaled too quickly and exhaled too much. I was still so hard. So very very hard and I just wanted her to –

“Maddy! Eyes up here,” she said. And then she actually fucking cut me.

It was only a prick, no more than a shaving nick, but it stung, and I kept my eyes exactly where she wanted. On hers. In hers.

“There ya go,” her voice cooed as she kept the blade upon me. I felt it climb across my stomach. To my chest, and I heard that mad giggle again. The tip of the boa was just beneath my nipple, and she was chortling to herself. “I never understood why men have these,” she chuckled. “Some kind of vestigial fixture. A leftover from evolution gone wrong. Want to keep them, Maddy?”

I nodded.

“Hmm…Okay. For now.”

I almost sighed, a small bullet dodged there, but then I caught a glimpse of her knife with a small smear of my blood etched on the surface. It rested in the gap of my sternum, then found its way to my Adam’s apple. Now I couldn't even swallow, and the saliva coating my mouth was becoming a pond of spit.

“This is going to be so fun. Maybe the best vacation I ever had.” Sofia shook her head, quite entertained with herself and whatever she was plotting. And then, something with satiny softness brushed against my cock. Something like a feather.

“Does it feel good?”

I managed to look down and catch just the smallest of glimpses. It was a feather. Long, and white, and she drew it down the length of my swollen cock, back up to my abdomen, then back down again. Tickling me.

I wanted to squeeze my eyes together and never open them again. Hurting so good, like the old song, and the polarizing contrast was too much to take. I couldn't take this. The bloodied knife on my throat, her silky feather on my cock, my skin prickling with gooseflesh as my orgasm backed up behind my balls, begging to come out.

I was moaning, now, through that awful gag. The knife at my jawline, the end of her feather swirling my sensitive tip – it was moist now. It craved satisfaction, and I clenched my fists, digging my fingers into my palms, hearing that familiar jingle of the handcuffs that bound me. Me! They don't bind me. They don't, they don't…

My climax was coming. That eruption of gratification, pulsing and throbbing its way up and out of me, it was going to burst forth, blow me apart from the inside out and just as I stopped breathing, seconds away from ejaculating into the next stratosphere, she stopped.

She. Just. Stopped.

Stopped everything.

The knife, the feather, all gone.

I ground my molars together, threw my head back against the tree, and screamed.

Chapter Eighteen

MADDOX

I wasn't lying to Martin when I told him I'd never once had a case of blue balls. Blue balls. Such an innocuous metaphor. Sounds like someone's suffering from nothing more than a case of sad