His teeth grazed the sensitive skin, and he suckled hard, a rough, claiming act that was both painful and exquisitely stimulating. He was marking her, branding her as his. A guttural moan was dragged from her throat, and her knees buckled. She hung from the velvet ropes, helpless beneath his mouth and hand, her world reduced to the shocking sensations he was forcing upon her.
He kept her there, on that razor's edge, for what felt like an eternity. He would touch her with merciless precision, bringing her closer and closer to a peak she had never known, only to stop, to pull back, to make her whimper with a need that was raw and humiliating. Her head lolled against her arm, her thighs trembling violently, her body slick and aching.
"You only have to ask," he whispered against her ear, his voice a silken temptation in the darkness. "That's all it takes, Nyrielle. Beg for it. Beg me to make you come. Beg me to finish what I started."
