The Vanity of Roses - Lily White Page 0,111

hands in shackles at the other end.

Dragging fingertips down the center of me, a tease against the inside of my breasts, a soft taunt over my stomach and between my legs, he captured my ankles next to lock them down.

I heard the flip of metal and the bench moved so that my legs would part, my bottom hanging off the side, my core open and exposed to him.

A tear escaped my eye, the fear leaking out of me.

Callan moved away, made a point to stay within my sight as he tapped a finger against his lips and ran his hand beneath the instruments of torture displayed on the wall.

Whips.

Floggers.

Belts.

Straps.

Canes.

But rather than choosing one, he turned his back to me, the fabric of his shirt loosening from top to bottom as he unbuttoned it, the skin and muscle beneath exposed as he pulled it from his shoulders and arms to drop to the floor.

His scars, those silvery white lines that told the story of his life, were in plain view, the meaning of his words slamming into my thoughts.

The same thing you did to me...

Electric fear sparked through me, a whimper escaping my throat as my hands and feet tugged at the shackles holding me in place.

The sound attracted his attention. Turning just enough to glance at me over a broad shoulder, he cocked a brow.

“Do you have a preference for what I use?”

My head rolled over the leather until I was staring up at the ceiling instead of him.

“Nothing. I prefer if you use nothing.”

A masculine chuckle, deep and disturbing.

“Flogger it is.”

My eyes clenched shut.

I was hyperaware of everything. The leather becoming warm beneath my back, the stunted breath I fought to drag in, the pounding of my heart.

Around me, Callan moved with purposeful steps, the sound traveling down the length of my body and stopping when he stood at my spread legs.

Daring to open my eyes, I peered down to see him staring at me, his head cocked to the side, his body so utterly beautiful, it was a fantasy brought to life. Hard muscle flexed beneath tight skin, broad shoulders and a strong chest tapered down to a defined abdomen and slim hips.

He still wore his pants, but they were molded to him in a way, the fabric fighting the stretch of muscular thighs.

From where I laid, I could see how excited he was, the outline of his erection obvious beneath black linen.

I jumped when his bicep bulged and the leather straps of the flogger slapped against the palm of his hand.

“Please...”

The word whispered over my lips.

“Please what?”

My mouth parted to pull in a shaky breath.

“Don’t hurt me.”

He grinned.

“Don’t you deserve it for what you did to me?”

Slowly, he dragged the straps of the flogger up the inside of my thighs. I shivered, barely able to think with the threat of that gentle touch.

“Will you ever let that go?”

“Answer me why? That’s all I need at this point. To know why you hated me so much.”

A gentle slap of leather against the left cheek of my ass, my body jumping in place as my heart sped more.

He was toying with me.

Honesty spilled out.

“I never hated you. But you refused to talk to me. Refused to look at me. It was you that hated me. And I struck out because it made me so mad.”

My eyes opened, and I looked down to see Callan watching me, the skin crinkled between his eyes.

“That’s because I wasn’t allowed. There were rules in place. You know that”

The leather softly struck the right cheek of my ass just before his finger explored between my legs, a single tip circling the tight opening, teasing me with sensation.

Surprise at what he said collided against the pleasure his touch gave me.

He wasn’t allowed? All that time and he never told me.

“I didn’t know.”

His finger slid inside me, and my back arched, shivers coursing down my spine because his touch was so aggravatingly slow.

“You’re being honest, aren’t you?”

With my head back and eyes clenched tight, all I could feel was the way he teased my body. A touch here, a hint of pain there, the leather straps of the flogger falling across the skin of my chest to drag down beneath my breasts and over my stomach.

“Yes,” I finally answered, metal chains clamoring softly as my wrists pulled at the cuffs.

“Interesting,” he breathed out, genuine surprise in his voice.

The flogger slapped against the inside of my thigh, and I trembled.

“Will you still punish me?” I asked, my

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