CHAPTER THREE

Seraphina shook her head innocently, sending a ripple through her loose hair.

She kept her gaze lowered, though she could see the corners of her lips twitched upward in a mask of feigned innocence but she didn't dare look up to gauge his reaction.

A low, rumbling sound broke the silence.

It was a chuckle, but it was devoid of any real warmth.

It was a dark, jagged sound that mocked her attempt at playing the saint.

It didn't offend her; instead, it made her skin prickle with anticipation.

"H... Have you forgiven me, sir?" The words tumbled out before she could stop them, her voice trembling, and breathless.

She regretted speaking instantly.

Her heart skipped a beat as he leaned forward, his shadow falling over her, blocking out the light from the burning candles.

"What did I fucking tell you about not speaking unless I ask you to?" The words were gritted out through clenched teeth.

His hand moved faster than she could track, fingers clamping around her jaw with a grip that bordered on bruising.

He forced her head up, tilting her face until she had no choice but to look into his eyes.

They were dark, burning with a fury that made her heart hammer against her ribs like a trapped bird.

"I... I'm sorry, I—"

"Goddamn it! Shut the fuck up!" he roared, his grip tightening on her face, squeezing her cheeks together until her lips puckered.

Her mouth snapped shut with an audible click.

She felt a sudden, sharp throb between her legs, her nipples hardening painfully.

Something in her twisted and coiled tight, responding viscerally to his anger.

It was so fucking sexy.

The way he growled, the way he demanded her silence with such absolute dominance, it lit a fire inside her that she hadn't felt in years.

If only her husband could look at her with such consuming hunger and rage instead of boring gentleness, then she would not be here.

He held her there for a long moment, searching her eyes for any sign of further defiance.

Seeing none, his expression hardened, though the fire in his gaze didn't dim. He released her jaw, but he didn't pull away.

His hand didn't leave her; instead, it began a slow, torturous descent.

His fingers trailed from the sharp line of her jaw down to the sensitive column of her neck. He lingered there, his thumb pressing against her pulse point, feeling the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat.

Seraphina stopped breathing. Her lungs burned, but she didn't dare inhale.

She was terrified that even the rise of her chest might make him stop.

His touch was featherlight, barely there, yet it seared her skin.

He moved lower, his knuckles grazing the hollow of her throat, then sliding down the center of her chest.

Her breath hitched, finally escaping in a ragged exhale as his fingers reached the swell of her breast.

Her skin was burning hot, flushed and hypersensitive to every micro-movement of his hand.

The contrast of his rough fingertips against her soft flesh was electric.

He found the tight bud of her nipple, already pebbled and begging for attention.

He didn't fondle her gently; he took the sensitive peak between his thumb and forefinger and twisted hard.

Her eyes fluttered shut, her head falling back as a moan escaped her lips.

The sensation shot through her like a lightning bolt, sharp and exquisite, blurring the line between pleasure and pain.

She arched her back, pushing her breast further into his hand, silently begging for more.

The reprieve was instantaneous and shocking.

He followed the twist of her nipple with a stinging slap to the side of her breast.

The impact rippled through the soft flesh, jiggling the heavy mound and forcing a sharp cry from her mouth.

Her eyes snapped open, wide and watery, staring at him as her breathing hitched and came in ragged gasps.

The sudden violence of the slap contrasted with the dull ache in her nipple, creating a confusing, overwhelming cocktail of sensations that made her knees tremble.

He didn’t give her time to recover. His hand palmed the breast he had just struck, squeezing it hard enough to leave white fingerprints in the reddening skin.

He watched her face intently, his lips curving into a mocking smirk as he felt her body arch toward him.

She moaned again, a needy, pitiful sound that betrayed her completely.

She ached for his rough touch, craving the way he manhandled her like a toy rather than a person.

The pain was a grounding force, reminding her exactly who she belonged to in this moment.

Lost in the haze of arousal, her eyes drifted closed again, seeking to retreat inward and process the overwhelming stimulation. It was a mistake.

He saw it immediately.

His hand pulled back and delivered another slap, harder this time, catching the soft underside of her tit.

The sound was louder, echoing off the walls, and the force of it made her gasp out loud.

Her eyes flew open, pupils blown wide with fear and lust.

Her pussy clenched rhythmically around nothing, reacting to the abuse of her breasts as if they were directly connected.

A warm trickle of wetness escaped her, sliding down her inner thigh and cooling against her overheated skin.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear, smelling faintly of whiskey and dominance.

"Your beggings weren't enough, little slut" He murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her chest.

She gasped, her mouth opening to plead, to offer up more desperate words of need.

She wanted to tell him she would do anything, be anything, if he would just fuck her. But the thought died in her throat as she remembered that she wasn’t permitted to speak unless he asked her to.

Her jaw snapped shut, cutting off the plea before it could form. She couldn't do anything besides whimpering helplessly, a small, frustrated sound that caught in the back of her throat.

Her mind raced, spiraling in a loop of frustration and desire.

Fuck... Why can’t he give her what she wanted even after begging like a desperate little slut, crawling on the floor, debasing herself completely, and still he wasn’t satisfied.

What more did he want from her?

The uncertainty was eating her alive, a delicious torture that kept her right on the edge of sanity.

He pulled away, straightening his posture and looking down at her with a gaze that set her insides on fire.

"Crawl back to the bed. Face down. Ass up. On the bed. Right now!"

The order washed over her, stripping away the confusion and replacing it with a singular, driving purpose.

Her pussy fluttered happily at the harshness of his tone, the muscles clenching in anticipation of what was to come.

Finally! The thought screamed in her mind.

She dropped to her hands and knees instantly, ignoring the ache in her joints as she scrambled toward the bed.

The carpet burned her skin, but she welcomed the sensation, focusing entirely on obeying his command.

She reached the mattress and climbed up, positioning herself exactly as he had demanded, pressing her face into the cool sheets, muffling her breath, and arched her back deeply, thrusting her ass high into the air.

Seraphina exposed herself completely, presenting her wet, swollen cunt, and waiting for the next move with her heart hammering against her ribs.

Seraphina deliberately caught her lower lip between her teeth, biting down hard as she stared at Mr Mysterious, her gaze heavy and lidded, projecting every filthy thought racing through her mind directly into his.

She wanted him to see the desperation there in her eyes and he didn't even look away.

His eyes were dark, fixed on her mouth.

Seraphina bit her lip again, harder this time, a sharp jolt of pain that grounded her in the moment.

She watched his throat closely, mesmerized by the column of muscle and skin then she saw the subtle bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed.

He was looking at her red, bitten lips and probably imagining them wrapped around his cock, or maybe bruised from his kisses.

The thought made her dizzy. Oh, the things she would do just to have a kiss from this man.

He suddenly stood from the couch.

Seraphina tracked him with her eyes, her body tense as a bowstring.

He walked past the foot of the bed, heading toward the shadowed corner of the room where the dresser stood.

Her breath caught in her chest. She knew what was kept in those drawers. She knew exactly what he was going for.

Her heart jumped into her throat as she heard the distinct, heavy metallic clink of steel against steel.

It was a sound that conditioned her body to react instantly.

Her stomach prickled with a mix of anticipation and nervous excitement, the skin tightening into gooseflesh along her arms.

She squeezed her thighs together, trying to alleviate the ache building there, but it only made the wetness more obvious.

He turned back to her, the shadows clinging to his frame. In his hand, he held a bundle of black leather and gleaming metal. The cuffs. The restraints. The tools that would turn her into his object.

He stopped at the edge of the bed, his presence looming over her, dominating the space without touching her yet.

Then, his hand moved. He reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair, his fingers tangling roughly in the strands.

The grip was tight, and possessive.

He used the hold to pull her up from her prone position, forcing her to follow the direction of his fist.

Seraphina gasped, a sharp intake of air that was half surprise and half relief.

Her scalp stung pleasantly, the pain radiating down her neck and sparking a rush of endorphins that made her head swim.

She scrambled to obey, panting now, her heavy breasts rising and falling with each ragged breath, her nipples hard points begging for attention.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and watery, waiting for the next step.

In his other hand, he held a strip of black silk.

He brought it up to her face, and she closed her eyes willingly, tilting her head back to offer herself to him.

He tied the silk securely around her head, blocking out the light completely.

The world vanished, leaving her floating in a void of sensation. Her hearing sharpened instantly, picking up the rustle of his clothes and the sound of his breathing.

Without warning, his hand pressed against her chest, right between her breasts, and he pushed.

He didn't guide her down; he shoved her roughly.

Seraphina fell back onto the bed, bouncing slightly against the mattress. She landed on her back, her limbs splaying out in unconscious invitation.

She heard the clatter of metal again, closer this time. He took her wrist first, pulling it wide to the side.

The cold leather cuff wrapped around her skin, followed by the click of the buckle.

She tugged experimentally; it was firm.

He did the same to the other wrist, stretching her arms wide until she was spread-eagled and helpless.

She couldn't see him, but she felt the mattress dip as he moved to the foot of the bed.

Seconds later, she gasped, her back arching off the mattress as strong hands grasped her ankles.

Oh Lord!