Queen Takes Rose (Wicked Villains #6) - Katee Robert Page 0,28

night instead of bringing her into my home. That’s the smart, logical thing to do.

But a deep, wild part of me wants her here, available to me at all times. Surrounded by my things. Possessed by me completely.

I pull my pants back on and follow her into the playroom. Distance. I just need a bit of distance. “You’ve pleased me.”

Aurora stops in the middle of the room and bows her head, the very picture of an obedient submissive. In her way, she’s frantically trying to put more distance between us, too. Again, that irrational irritation rises.

I stalk to the far corner of the room and snap my fingers. I don’t need to look to know Aurora follows. I motion at the sex machine. It’s a custom piece that was built by a friend of a friend, a leather bench-like creation designed to be knelt on. Once the submissive is fastened in place, the portion holding the knees and shins stays immobile while the center part rocks. It’s meant to create a delicious grinding motion with the dildo, and the curved section at the front rubs against the clit with every stroke. “Climb on.”

Aurora hesitates. “Is this a reward or a punishment?”

I could leave her in suspense, but I’m not kind enough to do that. “A little of both.” I grab a bottle of lube and spread it over the dildo. “Now, Aurora.”

She moves slowly, perching one knee in place. I fist the dildo and hold her hip with my other hand, guiding it into her. Her hiss of surprise brings me more joy that I have right to. She wiggles a little as I move around the machine, fastening her legs in place with padded leather buckles. I double-check the restraints. “Too tight?”

“No, Mistress.” Her voice has already gone a little breathy.

I take her hips and guide her to rock a bit. “And this?”

“It feels perfect.”

I catch her chin. “Tell me your safe word, Aurora.”

“Thorn.” She licks her lips.

“Good girl.” I force myself to release her. “You may come as many times as you like.”

Her eyes go wide. She’s experienced enough to know this really is both a punishment and a reward. How many times will she orgasm before it’s too much? Will I stop the machine before she reaches that point? I can see the anticipation and trepidation curling through her, and she looks down at the device.

“One last thing.” I retrieve a pair of cuffs and fasten her hands behind her and then clip the cuffs to the hook at the back of the seat. It’s not a tight enough connection to bend her uncomfortably, but it will keep her completely at the machine’s mercy.

I move to the overstuffed chair a few feet away and sink into it. A click of the remote, and the machine begins to rock slowly. Aurora makes a muffled sound of surprise, her gaze flying to me. I smile and pick up the book I left on the side table this morning for solely this purpose. It’s one I’ve reread many times, its spine cracked and bent, and I open it and begin to read.

Or at least I try.

The first time Aurora comes, her breath hissing out, her curse choked, I lose all concentration. She’s just as beautiful like this as she is in every other instance, and I can’t help but watch from the corner of my eye. I slow the machine to give her a second to recover and then change the mode to a different pattern, winding her up again.

A reward and a punishment. As many orgasms as she can take, but she’s deprived of my touch, my attention. A special kind of torture for a little brat like Aurora.

By the fourth time she comes, her skin has a sheen of sweat, and there are tear tracks down her pretty face. “Mistress, please.”

I make a show of putting my book aside and focusing on her. “Please, what?” She clamps her mouth shut as if she didn’t mean to let those words loose. I raise my brows. “If there’s nothing else…” I click the remote, increasing the tempo.

“Oh, gods.” Aurora’s breath sobs out. “Please don’t make me come like this again.”

There it is.

I have to concentrate to rise slowly, to not rush to her side and do exactly what I’ve been fantasizing about for far too long. She broke first. It’s important to not give over any power in response.

I sift my fingers through her hair and give it a tug.