The Professional (The Game Maker #1)(68)
Author: Kresley Cole

I noticed one rangy man near the glass seemed to be riveted to my crotch as he pounded his partner, a voluptuous woman bound atop a silken cushion on the ground.

When I circled my hips a few times to get used to the intrusion inside me, the man shuddered, gave a loud yell, and pulled out. His heavy-lidded gaze met mine as he spurted onto his partner’s mound.

Had he wanted me to see him come? To react? Interact?

“Now, now, Natalya,” Sevastyan chastised. “No need to taunt them with what they will never have.”

Had I been? Well, hell. Maybe?

Sevastyan strode away. Seconds later, I felt strands of leather slink down my spine. A flogger. As I’d suggested to him on the drive to Paris.

“Are you ready, pet?”

I’d been ready. I bit down on the chain and nodded—

Leather snapped across the backs of my thighs.

The sting made my eyes water. But when he moved beside me to assess my reaction, I gave him a that’s-all-you-got? look.

His brows rose above his mask. His lips curled.

The flogger landed harder. And again. Even as I whimpered around the chain, I found myself jutting my ass for more—which earned me groans from the audience, especially from those who were similarly bound.

What submissive wouldn’t want a man like Sevastyan to dominate her?

A man so dark and dangerous. So compelling and powerful.

And he was mine.

Sevastyan snapped the flogger against my thighs, my ass, even the top of my back, then repeated the rotation. With each blow, the pain mounted and mounted, until it . . . didn’t.

Instead of twitching agony, all I could feel were areas of heat; my pain receptors were still pinging, but must be confused. I arched for more, shifting the weighty c**k inside me.

When Sevastyan’s lashes rained down harder, passions seemed to escalate in the ring. I had to fight the force of the strokes to remain in position. Soon perspiration dotted my skin.

“My lovely Natalya bucks to meet her punishment.” His tone was thrumming with pride.

Every inch of my flesh was growing hypersensitive, as sensitive as my aching clit. When Sevastyan struck me, it became sexual. A sexual stroke. He knew exactly how far he could go to heighten my arousal without dampening it.

He’d wanted me to endure his tools. I wasn’t just enduring, or even accepting; I was exalting in them. When he paused to gauge my response, I faced him with widened eyes. What are you doing to me?

He narrowed his, then seemed to hold his breath as the flogger flashed out to catch my clamped br**sts, my trapped ni**les. The bite of leather against your br**sts . . . I writhed in shocked delight, silently begging him for another.

Was he going to make me come like this?

When his hand descended between my legs, fondling roughly, I undulated to his touch, sending that dildo even deeper inside me. Nearly wild with the need to climax, I didn’t care who saw me wantonly riding his fingers, wetting them.

He groaned with satisfaction to find me soaked around the base of the dildo. “Do you know how hard I’m going to make you come?” He seemed like a boy with a new toy. Excitement sizzled in him. “Ready yourself, beautiful.” His focus was all on me.

I recalled his words from our fight earlier today: I need to control you, command you, punish you. In order to madden you.

Everything he was doing was for the ultimate goal of my pleasure, with his own as secondary.

My reaction was what turned him on most.

And he intended to make me react as I never had before.

“I might not recognize everything a young woman needs,” he bit out. “But this I know. This I can give you. Of the rest . . . ?”

What was he trying to say? My question was forgotten when he moved in front of me to bring his hot mouth down to one of my pinned ni**les. I could feel his rapid breaths against the tip.

When he licked the peak, I thought I would faint with pleasure. Against my flesh, he said, “More lashes, love?” He suckled my other nipple, leaving them both glistening for our audience.

I nodded eagerly as dual needs welled up inside me, like lava about to erupt: my crazed urge to come—and my desperate hunger for more of the flogger.

He returned to his task, singling out my ass for his attention, his blows forcing me up on the balls of my feet. When I jerked back to meet the flogger, the dildo lurched, propelling me even closer to orgasm.

The frequency of the lashes had been scattered, but now the speed increased to nearly constant. Sweat dampened my hair and slicked my skin. The moistened flogger tails laid fire across my nerve endings, sending my mind into turmoil.

What should have been pain morphed into delirium and then into euphoria—and Sevastyan was fueling it with each stroke.

My vision blurred. No longer could I see the orgy. No longer could I hear anything but his choked groans that accompanied each thwack of leather. It was as if all my senses had receded so I could better perceive each individual flogger strand—and the kiss of breeze preceding a lash.

To better appreciate the steel c**k he’d had the foresight to give me.

To float higher and higher until I was flying.

High. I was . . . high. My eyes rolled back in my head, my lips curling with delight, my teeth gritted on the chain so he wouldn’t take this feeling away.

Never take this away. Boneless, hanging from my restraints, I soared—just as my release ripped through me in raw, shattering shock waves. Through clenched teeth, I keened my pleasure.

Tears streaked from my eyes as my sheath milked the dildo again and again. . . .

“Natalya?” I dimly heard Sevastyan calling. “Natalya!”

Calling for me? Where have I gone? Want to go there again.

Once the last of those shock waves had passed, I blinked, turning to him with a dreamy smile.

For some reason, my response made his eyes glint.

Then he rested his forehead on my shoulder, as if overwhelmed by what he’d discovered, as if this was more than he could believe. “Ty sozdana dlya menya.” You were made for me. He licked sweat from my neck, nipping my skin as he ground his erection against me. At my ear, he said, “You were right—I’ve never seen anything more glorious.”

He tossed the flogger aside and began running his hands all over me. The roughness of his calloused palms over my abused flesh made my toes curl.

When he unfastened the strap around my waist to remove the dildo, my inner muscles tightened around it, didn’t seem to want to let go. He insistently tugged until it slipped out. Behind me, it too vanished.

“You like to display yourself, moya plohaya devchonka.” My wicked girl. “Do you want to reveal more to them?”