Cherise Sinclair - Edge of the Enforcer

Her face was wet with tears. With sweat. Owwww. She gritted her teeth to keep from using her safeword, from screaming, from crying. Instead, she braced her forehead against the wood so he wouldn’t see how she felt. She’d take it—she’d endure anything if he got what he needed.

It took her a second to realize he’d stopped. A hand on her cheek turned her face to the heat of his gaze.

Dismay filled her as she realized his tight face held none of the peace he displayed when he flogged masochists at the club.

“You’re done, babe,” he muttered.

“No.” Her voice wavered past the sobs stuck in her throat. “I didn’t use my safeword.”

His thumb stroked her wet cheek. “Think I’m blind? Scene’s over.”

“But you—” You aren’t done. Not even close.

“Shhh. Let me get you free.” He opened each Velcro cuff with a quick, frustrated yank.

More tears spilled over her lids as she realized she couldn’t give him what he needed.

“Turn around.” He steadied her, his palms warm on her upper arms. “Hold still now.” With unnaturally controlled movements, he removed the clamp from her left nipple and, without waiting, did the right.

Like a one-two step, blood rushed back into the abused tissues, burning and engorging each nipple. She groaned, moved to cover her breasts.

“No.” He held her wrists at her sides as he drank in her pain. Pleasure glinted in his eyes. “Nice.”

Her gaze clung to his, as if he were reeling her in like a fish on a line. Everything in her pleaded to ease the strain in his face. “Take what you need, Sir. Please.”

When his lean fingers touched her cheek, she saw the answer in his expression—she couldn’t give him what he required.

“You’re what I need, pet.” Hand around her nape, he guided her to the side of the bed and bent her over the mattress. Under his firm touch and the suggestive position, her pain coalesced into something entirely different—into a raging need. She might hate really hurting, but rough sex lit her up like a fireworks display. And God, he knew that. Used it.

Running his hands over her back and butt, he fingered the slight welts, making her squirm. “Such a pretty ass. I’m going to admire my work while I fuck you.” When he squeezed the tender, reddened buttocks, she sucked air through her teeth.

A small pleading sound escaped her.

“Oh yeah, you’ll get what you need, Tex.” As his callused hands spread her open, he dragged his cock against her entrance and pressed slightly inside.

Her clit throbbed in anticipation. Her pussy felt sensitive and needy—and very wet.

His laugh was harsh. His hard palm smacked her right buttock. Ow, ow, ow. As the burn seared through her, he gripped her hips and ruthlessly sheathed himself to the hilt.

Too big. Too fast. Her insides spasmed in protest, and lights burst in front of her eyes. “Aaaaa!” Mindlessly, she pushed up, trying to escape.

A hand fastened on her nape, holding her down on the bed. “Take it, babe.”

His merciless grip turned her core molten. As her pussy pulsed around him in protest—and pleasure—he kicked her legs farther open, rendering her more helpless, and hammered into her. Each hard, inescapable thrust stretched her insides, pushed her deeper into the mattress, rubbed her hurting nipples and her clit on the coarse cotton spread.

Trapped. Her mind went blank as he forced her to take it, to feel it, to enjoy his use. A slap on her bottom sent more fire arcing through her. Her back arched—and he kept her pinned to the bed.

Abruptly, he withdrew and instead swirled his fingers in her wetness. Even as his cock drove in, he centered a slick finger against her asshole.

Instinctively, she fought to escape.

His grip tightened on her nape. His thick shaft pushed in deeply, pinioning her. “Don’t. Move.”

At the sound of the growling baritone, her insides clenched around him.

His hand moved from her neck to her hip, restraining her as he forced his finger past the rim of muscles, using only her own wetness as lubrication. The abrasion burned. Yet, like the thumping sound of massive lights coming on in a sports stadium, every nerve in her pelvis ignited.

He didn’t move, his weight on her increasing, deliberately pointing out that she was pinned. That both her anus and vagina were penetrated. That she had no control

The sound she made was an animal’s—a needy animal.

“Yeah, there we go,” he muttered. His shaft slammed into her; his finger shoved into her anus. Cock withdrew. Then the finger. And again.

The ball of need inside her tightened, clamping down around him. Her legs trembled, her hands clenched on the bedspread. Her world narrowed to his finger. His cock, over and over.

More. Needed more. She wiggled, pushed up—

He slapped her bottom so hard the sound echoed in the room. Pain burst and burned into her like a wildfire of sensation sweeping everything before it. Uncontrollable pleasure ripped apart her senses, shaking her like branches in a wind, electrifying every nerve. Oh God—too much. She twisted under him, needing more, needing less, spasming, crying. Falling into a whirlpool of sensation.

Slap! His palm struck her buttocks, his cock slammed into her, his finger penetrated her. Again and again.

“Nooooo.” The molten heat surged into her center, up her spine and belly, and she kept coming and coming, unable to stop.

With both hands, he gripped her hips, lifting her ass higher as he pounded into her and released with a growl.

***

DeVries woke early with Lindsey’s soft body cradled to his front. His arms were wrapped around her, holding her close. Sweetest teddy bear he’d ever known. Her breath was warm on his chest. Slowly, he inhaled her tangy sweet fragrance that mingled with the lingering scents of raw sex and the cream he’d rubbed into her skin.

After their session last night, he’d taken his time with aftercare, washing her, tending the marks he’d put on her—and enjoying her squirming—then rocking her as she fell asleep. Felt like he’d come home.

Considering his exhaustion, he should have slept longer. But, even though his body was sated, the knot of tension inside him hadn’t subsided. Not the way a good S/M scene at the club would have accomplished.

Fuck, she’d tried.

Remorse scraped his already raw nerves. He’d satisfied her, he knew. Hell, she’d come as hard as any woman he’d ever seen and lavished him with grateful kisses when she recovered. His guilt was because he realized he’d flogged her longer and harder than he should have. Dammit, he’d known she’d try to take more than she really wanted. He just hadn’t realized she’d attempt to disguise her pain from him.

She was going to get her butt walloped for not being honest with him…once he unwound to where he could deal. Fuck, his gut was tight. His emotions were a tangled mess, ready to snap.

After easing out of bed, he yanked on a pair of running shorts from his bag and headed out into a foggy San Francisco dawn.

***

The biscuits were almost done. Hair damp on her shoulders, Lindsey finished cooking the scrambled eggs and bacon. Upstairs, the shower was still running. Back from his jog, Zander had found her in the kitchen, given her a quick kiss, and muttered he needed a scrub up.

Worry simmered under her happy mood. As late as they’d been up, he should have slept longer. Instead he’d gone running—and he never ran in the mornings. He always went to the gym after he got off work.

Taking her time, she set the table and poured juice and coffee. Her appetite kept decreasing.

Happily, as he came down the stairs, he was smiling. “Gotta admit, I missed your breakfasts last week.”