Intrigue Me (Tangled Pleasures)
An Erotic Romance Novel by Lacee Hightower
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Heat Level: 4
Keywords: MF, BDSM, Contemporary, Romance, HEA
Warning: This title contains explicit sex scenes, BDSM, and anal sex
This book was definitely a challenge. Yet, nothing is worth having or doing if there's not effort, pain, and difficulty along the way. Intrigue Me not only deals with the complexity of power exchange in a complicated, but loving relationship, but also another tough subject - Down syndrome. I struggled with bringing that into the story, but decided I wanted something different and also wanted to show that these children are not only beautiful happy beings, but can also grow up to be very intelligent. The hero and heroine are both strong, independent people, but also have flaws like we all do. I personally love this story, and hope you do, as well.
His fingers probed and pushed as my muscles tightened around him. I hadn’t been touched this way in years … maybe forever, and I was so insanely turned on by his dark sexual words and harsh behavior that I couldn’t even comprehend how to answer him. Everything clenched as my body reacted with both fear and lust so strong that it made my head spin and my body reel with longing. My hands flew up into my lap, my fists balling as he caressed that one spot with a wonderfully gentle, spot-on precision. That’s when the first blistering sting of his hand on my sex sent an excruciating pain through me, worse than anything I’d ever experienced.
“My God! Jesus freaking Christ!” My whole body lifted, the breath lodging in my throat like the air had left the room. Had I died and gone to hell? Had I been doused in liquid hot fire? The agony in the sensitive flesh between my legs certainly felt that way.
Holy freaking shitballs! Am I bleeding?
“I asked you to be still, but just as I suspected, my little doll isn’t going to cooperate, is she?” He slapped the inside of my thigh, and I yelped, staggering, struggling to move. Aching to rub my legs together to ease the blazing pain. Feeling somewhere between fiery hot and chillingly cold, I wasn’t sure if I was appalled, or elated. But one thing was certain … I was turned on. Achingly so. Embarrassingly. My body was so aroused, my sex trembling with need, as a steady, hot drizzle of arousal gathered in my core. I audaciously opened my legs to him, clearly asking for more.
He leaned over and kissed me so hard that my lips felt as bruised as the rest of my body. “Do you really think a pretty fragile flower is what I’m after? Someone to make gentle love to? Whisper sensual words while eating popcorn under the stars? Tell me, Ava, does your pussy sting? Your thighs? Are you having fun yet? Do you feel intrigued?”
He seized my legs apart farther, restraining them, and adjusting them into an awkward, tight, uncomfortable position. Shit, it hurt. I couldn’t move. Then, he did the same with my arms. Ouch. Oh, shit.
“Please, Tage. That doesn’t feel good.”
“Neither does a plug up the ass. Sit still.” His hand speared through my hair again as his lips fell against my ear. “You remember your safeword?”
“Hummingbird,” I breathed, my breath lodged in my throat. My mouth was dry. My lower body ached. Everything just … hurt. My ass … my thighs … my pussy. How badly would he hurt me? Would I need medical attention afterward? Bandages? Ice packs? Heating pads? Thoughts of something, or anything up my ass, was borderline terrifying, not to say damned embarrassing. All of a sudden, this entire concept frightened the life out of me, striking me with a panic that I had only witnessed in movies, read in books. Yet, it was also pain, marks, bruises. Provocative. Electrifying. Intriguing.
“Perfect.” He released the ungodly grip on my hair and gently brushed his fingertips over the stinging sides of my scalp. “Feel better?”
“Yes,” I answered, struggling to keep from clenching my fists.
“Just yes? Seems a bit inconsiderate, kitten.” He began forcing a wad of something inside my mouth. God, no. Was he really going to gag me? Would I be able to breathe? Would I choke? Die a horrible painful death, naked, exposed, open and vulnerable? Tears bit at my eyes as I whimpered, forcing myself to breathe through my nose.
“How does it feel to be gagged with your panties, Ava?”
My panties? He was using my panties to gag me? Tears rose again as he reached behind me, lifting my hair so tightly that my stomach clenched.
“Nod your head once if you’re okay. Twice if you aren’t.”
I whimpered, nodding only the one time.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. “Now sit still.”
After what seemed like an eternity, his hand began caressing my neck and down over the swelling of my tender breasts, gently teasing my nipples, as he mumbled off Swedish words that I didn’t understand. Right as I began to relax, my back bowed, my left nipple no longer being stroked, but instead being viciously rolled and taunted between the thick pads of his fingertips. I flinched, whimpering, and he released me. I blew a relieved breath through my nose and swallowed hard. That was when the most piercing, insufferable agony I’d ever felt raked the fleshy tip of my right breast. I screamed through the gag, thrashing, as the delicate skin felt like it was being burned by the red-hot tip of a hundred flames.
Fucking hell. He’s killing me. Ruining my nipples. Motherfuck, it hurt. I swallowed hard, gagging as I did, trying to back away, but my breath catching as he beset my second nipple with the same excruciating torture device as the first. Both nipples howled in misery, the pain a paralyzing ache. Now I was sobbing, choking on my own damn panties while everything between my legs felt hot enough to catch fire. He tugged further. Grasped harder. Pushing me to the point I’d requested. To give in. Cede and surrender.
“Du har mycket vackra brost.”
A jolting breath lifted up my throat, my toes curling, the tortuous hell in my breasts beginning to slide all the way down into my clit. He leaned over, kissing my hair and gently stroking between my thighs, making my core ache harder. “It means your breasts are very beautiful. And they belong to me, Ava. Stop pulling away.”
I writhed as he tugged at the nipple clamps, the smell of my lust embarrassingly undeniable. “This is what you asked for,” he whispered against my ear.
Tears trickled down my face, while soft, muffled whimpers fell from my lips. Tage began rambling off another long line of Swedish words, then leaned over, trailing soft kisses against my neck. “Don’t fear your desires, kitten. Indulge in them. Embrace them. Surrender to them. Because they make you so perfectly you.”
My breasts felt like they were falling off, and my ankles and wrists ached with the tight restraints. But my core was wet, throbbing, and clenching. What he was doing to me was harsh and unrelenting, but there was something genuine and deep—this pain, this fulfillment happening to my body—was like an unhealed lesion that was beginning to heal.
Was this who I was? Who I’d always been? Someone seeking pain? A masochist?
He traced a long finger down my torso. “Are you ready for my cock in your ass? Are you enjoying everything? Are you enjoying the intrigue?”
Yes. I’m enjoying it. It’s the most fulfilling sexual experience of my life. But why? Am I out of my ever-loving mind?
“You’re stunning when you’re writhing under my control,” he uttered. “You’ve never looked more beautiful. Nod once if you want my cock.”
My sex throbbed like hot white fire as he slapped the sensitive area of my pubis again. My hips arched. Every single inch of my body felt pained. Holy crap, I had never felt a sensation like this. I was borderline senseless with the instant need to orgasm. I had smacked my mound before, something I’d learned from an erotic hypnosis tape, but not with this kind of intensity. It hurt. Shit, it ached all the way through my bones. Even my toes hurt. How could anyone in their sane mind like this? Why would they? Still, in some dark, taboo kind of way, I more than liked it. I craved it. I longed for it. I needed it.
Gag me. Hurt me. Love me.
“Yes! My God! I’m r—ready.” My response was jumbled beneath the gag, and I highly doubted he could understand a word of what I was saying. After what sounded like a tsk, then a soft laugh, he removed the clamps without offering a word of caution, leaving me gasping and whimpering as the sharp, godawful return of pain shot through my breasts like a million searing irons were melting the skin right off. Then, he began walking. Where to, I didn’t know. I hoped it was for a warm cloth, a heating pad, or a case of bandages for what was left of my battered nipples.
“And I think I want something to drink,” he responded, closing the door behind him and leaving me alone.