“My body count?”
“So it’s a count.” If he was almost smiling not even two minutes ago, that had changed completely. I’m pretty sure that look is reserved for serial killers, but somehow Azrael has it. And I kind of like it.
“Forty-four.”
It’s not like I’m lying. My body countisforty-four. He just didn’t specify what type of body.
That did it. His face drops, and in under a second, he rushes toward his clothes, removing his phone from his pocket. I have to stop him from doing whatever he is about to do.
“You should really learn how to take a joke, because I’m hilarious. Anyhow, in my field of work, you’ll soon find out sex toys are like household torture devices. They make everything more interesting.”
He chuckles softly as his face relaxes. “…Torture?”
“Yes! Torture! As in you admiring some toys while I’m dripping wet. For fuck’s sake, choose something!” And I don’t even care if I sound desperate, because I kind of am.
His gaze flickers to my face, and a dark smile plays on his lips. “Love, that pretty mouth of yours will cost you, and I’m not sure you can afford the price. You can still change your mind. Safe word?”
“No need,” I say impatiently.
He takes a step toward me, catching my chin with his fingers, looking straight into my eyes. “Tell me how far I can go,”
“Surprise me,” I answer, my eyes locking with his, daring him.
His jaw tightens. “That’s a very reckless proposition, Victoria.” He brushes a strand of hair from my face.
He returns to my precious possessions laid out before him, tracing every piece of leather, silicone, and metal. When the toys he chooses are placed on the nightstand next to me, my stomach clenches—Azrael is not playing anymore. I know right here and now that I’m very, very fucked—both literally and metaphorically.
“First, let’s make sure you are not running away again. On your knees, love, turn your back to me.”
Do I want to tell him to fuck off? Yes. Do I do it? No. I just kneel on the bed exactly how he wants, like a good girl.
Immediately, I feel the cold leather on my ankles, tying them together.
“Hands behind your back.” This is just another command before my wrists are tied together as well. Once immobilized, he embraces me from behind, his fingers tracing down from my jawline, down my neck, to my breasts. His thumbs find my nipples, already pebble-hard from the anticipation, circling them gently at the beginning and pinching them a second later, a delightful tug that makes me gasp.
But that doesn’t stop him from keeping the pressure there, twisting just slightly, making all my nerves shiver. It is a delicious, agonizing torment, and I can’t help but arch my back into his touch, letting a moan escape my mouth.
He bends to whisper in my ear, his breath cold against my burning skin. “I haven’t even started, and you are already begging for more.”
When he pulls a little harder, increasing the pleasure by a notch, I’m sure I’m done, twisting against his body, desperate for release. But just when I’m almost there, he moves his hand away.
I should stop the madness, there is nothing I hate more than being controlled. But I’m also way too deep into it. Every part of my body, from my racing pulse to the wetness pooling between my thighs, is begging for him.
His hand continues to trace down my stomach, right between my legs, one finger slowly playing with my clit. It’s torture and pleasure at the same time. He knows exactly where to touch, and when to stop, so I won’t get what I want. Just a bit of a teasing pressure that had me writhing against his hand. Until now it was almost bearable, but when he slaps my pussy, I feel the pressure building.
“This is one.”
I don’t have to understand what is going on before I hear his voice reverberating in my ear and his hand violates my pussy.
“Never,” another slap, “lie,” another and I’m barely holding, “to me,” third slap, “again.”
I don’t think he was planning on letting me finish, but my orgasm is sudden and uncontrollable, drenching the sheets as I squirt all over his hand, all over the bed and all over myself.
“Fuck you, Azrael.” I almost scream, furious as I am.
Fuck. This is the last thing I want to happen. God knows this man is borderline OCD, and this is probably the last fluid that should be near him. But instead of repulsion, he chuckles.
“Little ember, it seems like we need to address this mouth of yours, it has the tendency to get you in trouble.” And he steps back to the dresser.