God of Pain (Legacy of Gods #2) by Rina Kent

Then he thrusts it inside me. I jerk as the object—a sex toy, I assume—fills me. And then a slow humming starts in my core and against my clit.

A shiver goes through me at the tame stimulation, almost like a tender touch, which Creighton is too cold to ever offer.

“We’ll play a game.” He glides the tip of the object he first touched me with over the hard tips of my nipples. “If you don’t come by the end of your five punishment strokes, I’ll let you go. If you do come, however…you’re mine to devour.”

I gulp, but it turns to a full-on shriek when his first slap lands on my tender breasts.

Fire spreads across my skin and eats me up from the inside out. The place where he struck me burns and tingles in a chaotic mayhem.

It’s a crop, I think. He’s punishing me with a crop.

Holy shit. I didn’t sign up for this.

Or did I?

Creighton has always been transparent about who he is and what his tendencies are. He’s never once said he’d offer me normal or vanilla.

Hell, he even bluntly announced that he doesn’t date, doesn’t believe in the whole relationship charade, and has deviant tastes.

Singular cravings.

Violent tendencies.

With time, I’ve figured out he’s a natural Dom and an unabashed sadist who’s brought out the masochist in me.

In a way, I’ve been falling into that rhythm, into his abnormality. I like the freedom that loss of control offers.

I relish the feeling of not having to count my every step, be a perfect mafia princess and everyone’s favorite person.

I crave the depravity and freedom he offers in a ‘take it or leave it’ deal.

But maybe I overestimated my pain tolerance abilities.

When the second slap comes, tears soak the blindfold and stream down my cheeks. The safe word is at the tip of my tongue.

I can end this.

If I choose to, I’ll end this.

The third strike hits me with something completely different than excruciating pain. The vibration in my core and clit heightens until it’s everything I feel.

By the fourth stroke, a moan and a sob tear from the back of my throat.

Pleasure pools between my legs and I try to clench them together, but that only tightens the binds around my ankles.

A foreign itch starts in my core, burning, waiting, throbbing for release.

I want to come.

I want to come.

I want to come.

I’ve never experienced this type of stimulation before and I think it’ll be the death of me. That, somehow, I’ll faint right here, right now with the need to just come.

“Creigh…p-please…please…” I don’t recognize my voice or the lust in it.

I don’t recognize the need rippling, aching, contracting in my core.

He runs his crop over my hard nipples and I shudder.

“This is supposed to be a punishment, little purple, remember? And yet your cunt is dripping a pool on the mattress. So messy.”

“Please…please…”

“Please what?” He teases the tips of my excruciatingly painful and stimulated breasts. “Let you come?”

Unable to find words, I nod frantically.

“But that’s a privilege exclusive to good girls, and you haven’t been one tonight, Annika. Do not come.”

The crop swishes in the air before it slaps my nipples again.

I’m a goner.

The wave that slashes through me is so different from any other orgasm I’ve experienced before. The power of it nearly blinds me.

It’s a mixture of pain, pleasure, sobs, moans, and an unending throbbing ache.

It’s a symphony of contracting muscles and a flooding arousal.

My nails dig into the rope for dear life as I fall on and on with no landing in sight.

A low, dark tutting sound surrounds me.

“I told you not to come, didn’t I?” The rich darkness of his tone freezes me in place.

The mattress dips and soon after, he removes the blindfold.

I blink away the tears as light blinds my now sensitive eyes. That’s when I see Creighton between my legs, his pants half down and his hard cock cradled in his hand.

He does a long jerk, handling himself with assertive roughness that dries my mouth. “I’m going to rip through your cunt and own you, Annika. I’ll mark you so no one dares to come near you again.”

Before I can say anything, he wrenches the sex toy away and thrusts inside me in one go.

His groan and my gasp mix and echo in the air. If I thought the toy filled me, then he’s tearing me apart.

My whole body jolts and I hold on to the ropes for dear life.

Creighton stops, and his ocean eyes turn from dark lust to bewildered lust. “You’re…a virgin?”

“It’s okay,” I breathe out, nails digging into the rope. “It’s okay if it’s you.”

“Fuck,” he curses low, so low that I hardly hear him.

Then he reaches to the side and retrieves a knife. Please don’t tell me that’s what he used to remove my panties earlier.

With expert moves, he cuts the rope around my wrists, pulls me against him, then reaches back to undo my ankles.

All while his cock fills me to the brim and the welts on my breasts throb, eliciting both pleasure and pain.

Creighton lies me back on the bed, his hands on either side of my face. His ocean eyes get lost in mine, dark and unyielding, as he slowly rocks his hips. “A fucking virgin. Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin, Annika, hmm?”