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Authors: Dita Parker
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you. Then close because you can’t help it when I start to move inside you.
I want to see how you respond, and I want you to see what you do to me when we
fuck. What you have already done to me, you witch.”
“Witch?”
He gave her another quick kiss. “Witch.”
The oddest expression flitted across her face only to
disappear behind a small smile. The strangest need to possess and protect
washed over him with that one tiny quirk of her lips.
Lucie. His Lucie, the queen of Savannah.
And he was the man who would be king.
Chapter Four
MacCale woke up to the rays that seeped in through the heavy
curtains, the light hailing dawn. Lucie lay beside him on her belly, sleeping
peacefully, her slender back and curvy bottom bare.
He could get used to waking up to such a lovely sight,
MacCale decided, and pulled the covers over her to keep his dream sprite warm
and comfortable. What he saw as he leaned closer made him stop dead in his
tracks.
Her body, her beautiful body…
He had hoped to mark her, to leave an indelible expression.
Someone had beaten him to it. A crisscross of faint but visible slashes and
prick marks scarred her back, here and there. Everywhere.
He hadn’t seen them in the dimly lit room. He hadn’t felt
them as he had held her, but with how thick the skin on his palms was, he
didn’t wonder.
What the hell had happened to her? The rapists she had
hinted at that night at Boyd’s?
A cold sweat of guilt and horror gripped MacCale.
Remembering what he had done made his skin crawl. He had made her feel
helpless, he had made her beg and plead. Lucie hadn’t moaned in lust when he
had first taken hold of her hands to tie her up, she had borderline panicked.
She hadn’t said no. She hadn’t told him to stop. But he had hardly listened to
her either, only taken what he believed she wanted too.
Idiot. You fucking bastard. He wanted to wake her up
that instant to explain, apologize and assure her the last thing he intended
was to make her feel unsafe, in her own home, in her own bed, dammit.
Swallowing down a groan, MacCale closed his eyes. He felt
sick to his stomach, to his soul. Had she played along hoping he wouldn’t take
the light bondage any further?
Pulling on his boxers and pants and leaving his shirt
behind, he picked up the belt, rolled it up and shoved it into his pocket. He
would shred it to pieces. He would never again be able to wear it without
thinking what he had used it for last.
He searched for the missing pillowcase and slipped it back
in place then headed for the door. He needed a moment alone without having to
look at Lucie. And in the same room with her, how could he not stare?
* * * * *
Lucie woke up to a lusciously exhausted sensation that
appeared to have taken over her entire body.
The room was quiet, the bed cool and except for her, empty.
MacCale was gone.
Okay. Good. One thing less to worry about. She had always
been the one who sneaked out before dawn. Deciding to take him home for the
night, she hadn’t given a thought to what she’d say or do if he lay beside her
when she woke.
The scent of him lingered in the bed, bringing back flashes
from the night before. How mouth-watering his skin tasted. How low and gruff
his voice could be one moment and how calm and soothing the next. How the feel
of his hands all over her body had taken the fight and the flight out of her,
made her forget her resolve or why she should have resisted.
Mac had taken over and promised she would love it. She had.
So very much.
Too much.
Why the hell had she let him tie her up like that? Lick her
pussy? Jesus, her belly clenched just thinking about his mouth on her, lapping
at her lips, flicking her clit, tonguing her until she had thought she’d pass
out from the pleasure. No, she’d come all over his mouth instead.
To start with.
How the hell had she let herself be hypnotized like that?
She had let him clean her up afterward. Cuddled with him. Cuddled! Let him hold
her. After
I want to see how you respond, and I want you to see what you do to me when we
fuck. What you have already done to me, you witch.”
“Witch?”
He gave her another quick kiss. “Witch.”
The oddest expression flitted across her face only to
disappear behind a small smile. The strangest need to possess and protect
washed over him with that one tiny quirk of her lips.
Lucie. His Lucie, the queen of Savannah.
And he was the man who would be king.
Chapter Four
MacCale woke up to the rays that seeped in through the heavy
curtains, the light hailing dawn. Lucie lay beside him on her belly, sleeping
peacefully, her slender back and curvy bottom bare.
He could get used to waking up to such a lovely sight,
MacCale decided, and pulled the covers over her to keep his dream sprite warm
and comfortable. What he saw as he leaned closer made him stop dead in his
tracks.
Her body, her beautiful body…
He had hoped to mark her, to leave an indelible expression.
Someone had beaten him to it. A crisscross of faint but visible slashes and
prick marks scarred her back, here and there. Everywhere.
He hadn’t seen them in the dimly lit room. He hadn’t felt
them as he had held her, but with how thick the skin on his palms was, he
didn’t wonder.
What the hell had happened to her? The rapists she had
hinted at that night at Boyd’s?
A cold sweat of guilt and horror gripped MacCale.
Remembering what he had done made his skin crawl. He had made her feel
helpless, he had made her beg and plead. Lucie hadn’t moaned in lust when he
had first taken hold of her hands to tie her up, she had borderline panicked.
She hadn’t said no. She hadn’t told him to stop. But he had hardly listened to
her either, only taken what he believed she wanted too.
Idiot. You fucking bastard. He wanted to wake her up
that instant to explain, apologize and assure her the last thing he intended
was to make her feel unsafe, in her own home, in her own bed, dammit.
Swallowing down a groan, MacCale closed his eyes. He felt
sick to his stomach, to his soul. Had she played along hoping he wouldn’t take
the light bondage any further?
Pulling on his boxers and pants and leaving his shirt
behind, he picked up the belt, rolled it up and shoved it into his pocket. He
would shred it to pieces. He would never again be able to wear it without
thinking what he had used it for last.
He searched for the missing pillowcase and slipped it back
in place then headed for the door. He needed a moment alone without having to
look at Lucie. And in the same room with her, how could he not stare?
* * * * *
Lucie woke up to a lusciously exhausted sensation that
appeared to have taken over her entire body.
The room was quiet, the bed cool and except for her, empty.
MacCale was gone.
Okay. Good. One thing less to worry about. She had always
been the one who sneaked out before dawn. Deciding to take him home for the
night, she hadn’t given a thought to what she’d say or do if he lay beside her
when she woke.
The scent of him lingered in the bed, bringing back flashes
from the night before. How mouth-watering his skin tasted. How low and gruff
his voice could be one moment and how calm and soothing the next. How the feel
of his hands all over her body had taken the fight and the flight out of her,
made her forget her resolve or why she should have resisted.
Mac had taken over and promised she would love it. She had.
So very much.
Too much.
Why the hell had she let him tie her up like that? Lick her
pussy? Jesus, her belly clenched just thinking about his mouth on her, lapping
at her lips, flicking her clit, tonguing her until she had thought she’d pass
out from the pleasure. No, she’d come all over his mouth instead.
To start with.
How the hell had she let herself be hypnotized like that?
She had let him clean her up afterward. Cuddled with him. Cuddled! Let him hold
her. After
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