Read Online Boston Avant-Garde 5: Bellicoso by Kaitlin Maitland - Free Book Online
Authors: Kaitlin Maitland
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the apparatus clamped over his cock. The table rocked, the coolness of a leather restraint a shock to the warm skin of his lower back.
Malachi’s eyes snapped open as a second strap bit into his shoulders. It forced him down flat. Adrenaline surged through his system. The table shivered as he launched himself up, only to be held fast by the restraints. Darkness curled the edges of his vision, the sound of his blood pumping furiously through his veins a dull roar in his ears.
“Relax, Malachi.”
The timbre of his lover’s voice was a familiar sound in the madness. He clung to it like an anchor, reminding himself over and over again that Demon had spent ten years proving he was not Seraph.
DEMON KNEW HE was pushing the boundaries of their bond. He had never used restraints on Malachi. They were Seraph’s stock-in-trade. She had been especially fond of contorting Malachi’s big body into painful positions only to force him to hold them for hours. In all her years spent trying to break her favorite toy, she’d sought only one thing—him screaming a safe word, proving she’d outmatched him. It had never happened.
That wasn’t what Demon desired. He smoothed his hands across Malachi’s bulging shoulder muscles, pinned to the table beneath the bite of a thick strap. The leather wouldn’t cut into the flesh. It wasn’t designed to harm.
Arousal heightened Demon’s senses, making him utterly aware of the man who was struggling so valiantly with his fight-or-flight instinct. The sharpness of his breathing and the scent of his sweat tangled with Demon’s own. The goal was to achieve pleasure for them both.
Demon continued to stroke his lover, kneading the tension from Malachi’s back and haunches until relaxation stole over his large frame and his breathing returned to normal.
Demon visualized the scene he wanted to paint in his mind, forcing his own desire into submission as it rose like a tidal wave. He had only the vaguest memory of Malachi’s mysterious woman. How much more intense would this be if the siren herself were in this room with them?
“I’d enjoy seeing you restrained like this with your cock buried in her pussy, Malachi.” Heat suffused the satin skin beneath Demon’s palms, and he knew his lover had left panic behind for anticipation. “Would you like that?”
Malachi shuddered. “Yes.”
“Is your cock hard?” Demon didn’t have to ask. The tension in Malachi’s ass said he was having a hell of time keeping still with the synthetic pussy locked onto his shaft.
“Yes.” The muscles across his back rippled. “I want to fuck it. I want to fuck her.”
“Patience, Malachi.” The response was a relief. Demon had spent years teaching Malachi it was natural to have desires. Expressing needs didn’t deserve punishment. If Demon wanted an automaton, he’d fuck a blow-up doll. It was Malachi’s vibrant, sensual nature that made him the man Demon admired.
He reached for the flogger he’d laid within reach. He’d purposely set it outside Malachi’s sight. Now Demon curled his hand around the molded handle and gave his palm a few light tickles with the soft leather.
The sound made Malachi flinch. He gripped the edges of the table until it creaked as he trembled and tried to regain control. His shoulders bulged against the strap though he didn’t speak a word.
Demon caressed the sleek ass he had every intention of fucking. “You wanted me to use a whip on you earlier. Isn’t that right?”
There was the briefest hesitation. “Yes.”
“This is the flogger you told me you used on Selena.”
Malachi’s breath hitched again, but it was arousal and not fear. Demon could smell it like an aphrodisiac that sank deep into his veins. His own erection was clawing at the fly of his jeans with an intensity he’d never experienced before.
“Did you use it to hurt her, Malachi?”
“No.”
“Did you bring her pleasure?”
“Yes.” The word slipped out on a groan.
Demon
Malachi’s eyes snapped open as a second strap bit into his shoulders. It forced him down flat. Adrenaline surged through his system. The table shivered as he launched himself up, only to be held fast by the restraints. Darkness curled the edges of his vision, the sound of his blood pumping furiously through his veins a dull roar in his ears.
“Relax, Malachi.”
The timbre of his lover’s voice was a familiar sound in the madness. He clung to it like an anchor, reminding himself over and over again that Demon had spent ten years proving he was not Seraph.
DEMON KNEW HE was pushing the boundaries of their bond. He had never used restraints on Malachi. They were Seraph’s stock-in-trade. She had been especially fond of contorting Malachi’s big body into painful positions only to force him to hold them for hours. In all her years spent trying to break her favorite toy, she’d sought only one thing—him screaming a safe word, proving she’d outmatched him. It had never happened.
That wasn’t what Demon desired. He smoothed his hands across Malachi’s bulging shoulder muscles, pinned to the table beneath the bite of a thick strap. The leather wouldn’t cut into the flesh. It wasn’t designed to harm.
Arousal heightened Demon’s senses, making him utterly aware of the man who was struggling so valiantly with his fight-or-flight instinct. The sharpness of his breathing and the scent of his sweat tangled with Demon’s own. The goal was to achieve pleasure for them both.
Demon continued to stroke his lover, kneading the tension from Malachi’s back and haunches until relaxation stole over his large frame and his breathing returned to normal.
Demon visualized the scene he wanted to paint in his mind, forcing his own desire into submission as it rose like a tidal wave. He had only the vaguest memory of Malachi’s mysterious woman. How much more intense would this be if the siren herself were in this room with them?
“I’d enjoy seeing you restrained like this with your cock buried in her pussy, Malachi.” Heat suffused the satin skin beneath Demon’s palms, and he knew his lover had left panic behind for anticipation. “Would you like that?”
Malachi shuddered. “Yes.”
“Is your cock hard?” Demon didn’t have to ask. The tension in Malachi’s ass said he was having a hell of time keeping still with the synthetic pussy locked onto his shaft.
“Yes.” The muscles across his back rippled. “I want to fuck it. I want to fuck her.”
“Patience, Malachi.” The response was a relief. Demon had spent years teaching Malachi it was natural to have desires. Expressing needs didn’t deserve punishment. If Demon wanted an automaton, he’d fuck a blow-up doll. It was Malachi’s vibrant, sensual nature that made him the man Demon admired.
He reached for the flogger he’d laid within reach. He’d purposely set it outside Malachi’s sight. Now Demon curled his hand around the molded handle and gave his palm a few light tickles with the soft leather.
The sound made Malachi flinch. He gripped the edges of the table until it creaked as he trembled and tried to regain control. His shoulders bulged against the strap though he didn’t speak a word.
Demon caressed the sleek ass he had every intention of fucking. “You wanted me to use a whip on you earlier. Isn’t that right?”
There was the briefest hesitation. “Yes.”
“This is the flogger you told me you used on Selena.”
Malachi’s breath hitched again, but it was arousal and not fear. Demon could smell it like an aphrodisiac that sank deep into his veins. His own erection was clawing at the fly of his jeans with an intensity he’d never experienced before.
“Did you use it to hurt her, Malachi?”
“No.”
“Did you bring her pleasure?”
“Yes.” The word slipped out on a groan.
Demon
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