Handcuffed by Her Hero by Angel Payne Page B

the nail he’d just tamed. But when he spoke, nothing
but calm command defined the words.
    “What do you say,
girl?”
    His composure
was unnerving. Enraging. “Ummm, how about a warm-up next time, Sir ?”
    Thwack.
    “Owwwww! Damn
it, Zeke!”
    “Still not the
right answer.”
    Thwack.
    She twisted her
hips, hating him for this…revering him for it. Zeke stepped forward again,
making her gasp in exquisite fear, though he refrained from swatting her again.
He was utterly silent—but she sure as hell felt his stare. His assessment. His
patience. Damn him. Bless him.
    Finally, she let
out a long breath. Her words were tight but sincere. “Thank you, Sir.”
    He came closer.
Swept a hand across her burning ass cheeks. “You’re welcome.”
    Ohhhh, yes. That
felt wonderful. She got ready to give him a blissed-out sigh, but sharp pricks suddenly
rolled down her spine, jamming the sound in her throat. The telltale squeak of
metal accompanied the pricks. She stretched the sigh into a grateful moan. A
Wartenberg wheel. One of her favorites. And God, did he know how to use the
thing. Z was relentless with the pressure, making sure the steel pins dug in
nearly hard enough to break her skin. As she cried out from the delicious
torment, a deep part of her begged him to do just that. What would he do if she
really bled for him?
    She sensed the answer
to that just by listening to his breath. He was fighting hard to keep the
steely Dom veneer. His exhalations clawed at the edge of growls, especially as
he turned the wheel and ran it back up her torso. As he dug new tracks into her
skin, her delts and lats twitched with fevered awareness. With every inch he
scored, he pressed to the edge of cutting her but never did. It was making her
insane—and she was pretty sure he shared the sentiment.
    She whimpered in
need.
    Aggghh! Why
didn’t he listen?
    She writhed and
pushed herself back at him. She parted her legs, struggling to show him what he
was doing to her, how hot and wet she was because of him.
    He didn’t care.
    “Damn it, Zeke!”
It burst out beyond her control. “Do it, damn you! Cut me open! Please!”
    Her heart sank
when she saw the wheel fly by, as he threw it to the floor.
    Her senses flew
when he replaced the instrument with his fingernails.
    He used just one
hand. It was enough. He spared no mercy with those five prongs of determined
flesh, firing them into miniature blow torches, especially when he crisscrossed
the tracks he’d already made with the wheel. Another cry clamored at Luna’s lips
but he was already a step in front of her. Suddenly, he wrapped his other hand
to her throat again, compressing with more exquisite purpose than before. He
loomed close, a presence at her peripheral that was larger than life, a
haunting saber tooth with his rough breaths and silken motions.
    “We’ll get there,
subbie. But in my time, not yours.”
    Luna’s arms
tensed against the ropes. She knew what words he wanted but giving them up felt
impossible. She was already so vulnerable to him physically. Giving him more
surrender, even verbally, was too much. “Fine,” she sneered. All right, all
right.”
    He stilled the
hand on her back and constricted the fingers on her neck. “You know, I’d almost
applaud you for that audacity. Almost .”
    He scooped
around enough to meet her eye-to-eye again. His grip moved to the hook and
bindings in her hair, freeing her from the bondage in a pair of deft tugs. That
didn’t mean he was done. After winding the braid around his fingers again, he yanked.
Her head snapped back, releasing a new shower of shivers down her nape, throat,
and shoulders. So much for feeling one speck sure of herself. Now capturing her
from the front and back, Z directed exactly where she looked and what
filled her vision—which for now, was nothing but him.
    For which she
should be rejoicing…right?
    A funny thing
happened on the way to the rope bondage. All her dreams of this night had never
made