She made a sound of pure frustration, her hips rolling against his hand, trying to create friction. He pressed down slightly, his middle finger sliding through her slick folds, finding the hard bud of her clit. She went rigid, every muscle in her body tightening.
"Ah—god—"
He circled slowly, maddeningly light. Her thighs trembled around the spreader bar, her cunt clenching and releasing in helpless pulses.
"You like the pain," he said, not a question. His finger kept its slow, teasing rhythm. "You like how the flogger stings, how it makes everything sharper. Hotter."
She nodded frantically, beyond words now, her head thrashing against the leather.
He took his hand away.
Her eyes flew open, a broken whine tearing from her throat. "No—please—I—"
Carter picked up the flogger again. "Color?"
She stared at him, chest heaving, cunt dripping and empty. "Green," she gasped. "Green, please, I need—"
He struck her directly between her spread legs.
The falls landed across her soaked cunt with a wet slap, and Marguax screamed. Her entire body seized, back bowing off the chaise, hands white-knuckled in their cuffs.
The pain bloomed through her, sharp, electric, white-hot, and underneath it, building and building, something else.
Carter struck again. And again. Each impact punctuated by her cries, her moans, the wet sound of leather meeting slick flesh.
Then his hand was there again, pressing against her throbbing cunt, fingers sliding through the mess of her arousal, finding her clit even as the sting still radiated through her.
"Come," he commanded, and his fingers moved—fast, relentless, grinding against that swollen bud.
Marguax shattered.
Her orgasm ripped through her in waves, her cunt spasming against his hand, her screams echoing off the soundproof walls.
She pulled so hard against the cuffs that the leather creaked, her body convulsing as pleasure and pain twisted together into something she'd never felt before.
Carter worked her through it, his fingers not stopping, not slowing, drawing out every last tremor until she lay limp and shaking beneath him.
He stepped back, his hand glistening with her release, his own breath heavier than before. He hadn't expected this, hadn't expected her to break so beautifully, to respond so completely.
Something in his chest tightened as he watched her, flushed and wrecked and still tethered to his chaise.
"Color?" he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.
Marguax opened her eyes slowly, a lazy, satisfied smile curving her swollen lips.
"Green," she breathed. "Very, very green."
Then out of nowhere, the velvet curtain rippled, and a sliver of brighter light cut through the amber glow.
The muffled bass from the party surged louder, voices, laughter, the clink of glasses.
A man in a rumpled tuxedo stumbled through the opening, one hand bracing against the wall, his eyes unfocused from too much champagne.
He blinked at the scene before him, the woman restrained on the chaise, her skin flushed and glistening, her skirt bunched around her hips, and his mouth opened to speak.
Carter moved faster than Marguax could track. One moment he was standing over her, the next he had crossed the room and seized the intruder by the lapels.
He shoved him backward through the curtain, his voice a low, controlled growl that she couldn't quite make out.
The man stammered something apologetic, and then Carter was pulling the curtain shut, checking the lock on the hidden panel, ensuring the seal was tight.
The music faded again to a distant throb. The room settled back into its amber-tinged privacy.
Marguax lay where he'd left her, her wrists still cuffed, her legs forced apart by the spreader bar.
Her breath came in shallow bursts, and she could feel her pulse hammering in her throat, her wrists, her cunt.
The intrusion had snapped something inside her, the brief violation of their private space, the thought of a stranger seeing her this way, exposed and desperate.
She should have felt ashamed. Instead, a wild, urgent heat flooded through her, sharper and more demanding than anything she'd felt before.
Carter turned back to her. His jaw was tight, his chest rising and falling beneath the open collar of his shirt. He crossed to the chaise and reached for the cuffs on her wrists.
"Don't," she said.
He paused, his fingers hovering over the leather. His eyes met hers.
"Don't untie me." Her voice came out rough, breathless. "I need—I need you to—"
She couldn't finish the sentence. She didn't have the words. But her body did. Her hips shifted on the leather, her back arching slightly, her thighs trembling against the spreader bar.
The ache between her legs had become unbearable, an emptiness that demanded to be filled.
Carter's gaze dropped to her exposed pussy, still swollen and slick from her orgasm, still dripping with want.
He exhaled slowly, and something in his expression shifted. The controlled dominance of before gave way to something rawer, more urgent.
He could see what she needed. He could see that the interruption had stripped away whatever thin veneer of patience she'd been clinging to.
"Tell me," he said, his voice low. "Tell me what you want."
"You." The word spilled out of her before she could stop it. "I want you inside me. Please. I can't—I need—"
He didn't make her beg again. His hands went to his belt, yanking it open with a sharp clink of metal.
The sound sent a fresh wave of heat through her. She watched, transfixed, as he unzipped his trousers and freed his cock, hard, thick, jutting forward from the dark fabric of his suit.
Her mouth went dry at the sight of it, her cunt clenching around nothing.
He positioned himself between her spread legs, one hand gripping the edge of the chaise, the other guiding himself toward her entrance.
He didn't ask if she was ready. He could see that she was. Could smell it. Could practically taste it in the thick, heavy air between them.
The first press of his cock against her opening made her gasp. He was big, bigger than she'd imagined, and her body resisted, tight and untried.
He pushed forward anyway, slowly but without hesitation, splitting her open inch by inch. The stretch burned, a sharp, blinding pleasure-pain that made her cry out and tug against her restraints.
"Look at me," he commanded.
She forced her eyes open, meeting his gaze as he sank deeper. He was watching her face, reading every flicker of sensation that passed across it.
He buried himself to the hilt with one final thrust, and she felt something give way inside her, a barrier she hadn't known she'd been holding. This was real. This was happening. And she never wanted it to stop.
He withdrew slowly, almost completely, then slammed back in. The chaise rocked beneath them.
Marguax's head fell back, a moan tearing from her throat. He set a brutal rhythm, fucking her with deep, relentless strokes that shook her entire body.
The spreader bar kept her open for him, helpless to do anything but take it. Each thrust ground his pelvis against her swollen clit, sending sparks of pleasure cascading through her.
"Carter—" His name came out as a sob. "Harder. Please. Harder."
He growled low in his throat and obeyed. His hips pistoned faster, the wet, obscene sound of their bodies meeting filling the small room.
The leather creaked beneath them. Her wrists chafed against the cuffs. She didn't care. She wanted to be marked by this, to carry the evidence of it on her skin for days.
"You're so fucking tight," he gritted out, his voice rough. "So wet. You take me so well."
His words washed over her, filthy and electric. She was already close again, already spiraling toward another peak after just a few minutes.
Her first orgasm had barely settled, and now another was building, more intense than the last. Her walls clenched around his cock, trying to hold him inside her.
"Come for me," he ordered, as if sensing how close she was. "Come on my cock."
She shattered. Her back arched off the chaise, her mouth open in a silent scream, every muscle in her body seizing as the orgasm ripped through her.
He didn't stop. He kept fucking her through it, extending the pleasure until it bordered on pain, until she was whimpering and shaking beneath him.
But he wasn't done. He shifted his angle, driving deeper, hitting a spot inside her that made her see stars.