Cherise Sinclair - Edge of the Enforcer

Lindsey followed his gaze. Whoa, the Homeland Security guy was in the dungeon. He wore black jeans and a black skintight body shirt that showed off a leanly muscular body. He was looking at Dixon in appreciation.

But she hadn’t had a chance to talk with him—not enough to decide if she trusted him with her friend. She frowned. Still, if Simon said Stan was okay…maybe it was all right.

Dixon blinked, stared at Stan, and blinked again. “I—I—I.”

Sneaky sadist, Lindsey thought. Dixon sure didn’t want that whip again. Since Zander had suggested the change in Doms, Dixon wouldn’t look as if he were chasing after man-candy. She glanced at the agent. The Dom was definitely a gay boy’s dream.

“Do you want Stanfeld to take over?” Zander asked.

Dixon’s expression held both desire and worry.

I so understand. Lindsey’d been in that position. The first scene or two with someone unknown was awfully scary.

“Boy,” Zander said in his grating voice. “Your play stays in here, nowhere else. Tex and I won’t leave before you do. And Logan will keep an eye on you as well.” He raised his eyebrows at the two Doms.

“Agreed,” Stan said.

Logan nodded.

“Okay.” Dixon went starry-eyed. Lindsey could understand why, since Stan was not only gay but also very, very dominant.

“All yours,” Zander said to the agent and moved his bag to the other side of the birdcage.

Stan stalked across the room and stopped in front of—

Zander’s body blocked her view. After opening the cage door, he curved his hand around her jaw. “You going to watch them or me?” Zander asked.

Oops. “Um, you, Sir.” She could barely hear them talking—going over limits, she thought.

“Yeah, what I figured.” He considered the blindfold he held and tossed it onto the bag. His gaze was level and serious. He was so close she could smell him—light musk and sweat, soap and leather. “They aren’t your concern now. Keep your eyes on me, babe, or I’ll be unhappy.”

Oh. At the thought of letting him down, she wanted to curl up like a repentant puppy. “I won’t disappoint you. I won’t.” Never. Ever.

The smile softened his hard features. “No, you won’t.”

His gaze on her face, he teased her breasts, pinching her nipples to attention and more, until she was squirming at the arousing pain.

As the stakes poked her, the added bites made her thoughts swirl like falling leaves before the approaching winter. It felt as if she’d been stirred up all night…because she had. “Zander, pleeeze.” Touch me, take me…hard.

“Feeling needy, are you?” As he gave an ominous laugh, he retracted the stakes, one by one. Nothing sharp was pressing on her skin any longer, and she took a relieved breath. Free!

He didn’t unfasten her wrists, though, and she tugged at the restraints in a silent reminder.

“’Bout time to torture those little tits of yours. See how sensitive they can get.”

Torture? Wait. Her jaw dropped. Her wrist cuffs were still clipped to the top of the cage—and prevented her from plastering herself on the opposite side from him.

When the corners of his mouth tipped up, she knew she’d reacted as he figured. And knowing didn’t help. Her skin felt so sensitive already, her nipples still ached from his pinching, and now…more? She barely kept from whimpering, and yet, seeing the merciless light in his gaze sent a dark hunger through her.

As he bent to his toy bag, she shifted position, rubbing her thighs together to ease the ache.

He noticed—of course—and his chin lifted slightly. Open .

God . It felt as if heat were streaming off her body as she parted her legs, opening to him.

Unhurriedly, he wrapped scratchy rope around her, above and under her breasts, creating a kind of harness. Soon the rope circled the base of each breast, squeezing and constricting the skin. By the time he stopped, her breasts felt too, too full, as if being pressed outward. Her already tender nipples filled with blood until every beat of her heart made them throb.

She was panting, unable to do anything. Her breasts had never felt like this—exquisitely sensitive to the point of pain.

“Nice.” His voice was sandpaper harsh, his gaze piercing as he firmly rolled the peaks.

Too much. Even as she gasped at the sharp, painful pleasure, uncontrollable need swept over her like a wind off the desert, turning the air scorching hot.

His callused fingers on her moved deliberately, wringing more from her, as his smoke-green eyes watched her intently. Pushing her. She whimpered.

“Yeah,” he rasped, “there’s the sound I like.”

The pull of his fingers sent a current of need arrowing straight to her core. And, as if he could follow the line of tension, he ground the heel of his hand against her mound and slid his finger inside her. Making a low helpless sound, she clenched around him, wiggling. Needing more.

“I’ll give you more.” The masculine threat sent shivers racing over her skin. He unclipped her wrist cuffs. “Ankles, please.”

Awkwardly, she maneuvered until she sat with her butt on the cushion. She could feel the slickness between her thighs as she extended her legs toward him. God, what was he going to do?

“Lie back.”

As she tipped backward, he guided her legs out the birdcage door until half her bottom was outside. She swallowed hard and stared up at the metal frame around her, feeling the cage swing slightly.

She could hear the music change to something softer. Darker. A sharp cry came from a woman down the room. Nearby, Stan was talking to Dixon, low and soft.

Zander’s powerful hands closed on her left leg, lifting up and out. He clipped the ankle cuff high on the outside of the birdcage before doing the right. Her bottom was so far through the door her legs were angled toward her head, elevated enough to tilt her ass upward. Blood rushed to her head—and her bound breasts swelled, erotically painful.

He smiled and tore the sides of her thong, ripping it right off. The coolness of air touched the hot flesh between her thighs. She was extremely wet.

And God, she wanted him inside her. But… A quiver of anxiety ran up her spine. Who knew what the Enforcer would do?

In answer, he leaned in and hooked her wrist cuffs to the frame behind her head. “I don’t want you interfering when I hurt you,” he said in such a level voice that he sounded reasonable until she took in the meaning.

“B-but, I’m not—” Not a masochist, remember? At his stare, she didn’t finish. Just bit her lip. The swinging of the birdcage seemed to make her helplessness even more apparent. She wasn’t even on the ground.

His hands ran down the backs of her legs, and she realized the cage put her bottom right at the height of a man’s groin. Good—she wanted him inside her.

“I think I should examine that gorgeous pussy of yours,” he said. He pushed a button on the control device hooked on the frame. The cage rose to the level of his chest.

Her eyes widened when his gaze settled between her legs. God, her pussy was right out there, totally on display. He ran his fingers down her mound, opened her labia, and just…looked at her.

“Zander…” A glance made her swallow and try again. “Master, don’t. Please.”

“Please is a great word—and I intend to please. Me, for sure. Maybe even you.” He pressed a rough finger inside her, his smoldering eyes on her as she sucked in a breath at the light scrape against sensitized nerves. One corner of his mouth tilted up. When he rubbed on a certain place, her hips jerked violently.

A dark hunger rose in her core.