Enslaved (Devil's Kiss) Read Online Free Page A

tonight?”
    “No, until our contract ends.”  
    A shiver drifted across my breasts. He wanted to shatter my last thread of resistance. There would be nothing to stop him from doing as he wished—not that there was much now that would cease his torture. But knowing I’d had the option to end it at any time . . . somehow that small, inconsequential thing made his demands bearable. Now, if I couldn’t handle what he dished out, my only option would be to flee and turn myself in.
    “I-I can’t use it, Master. I can’t go to jail.”
    “It’s a yes or no question, Kayla.”  
    I wanted to say no. Something deep inside—self-preservation, perhaps—set the word on the tip of my tongue. Yet . . . if I eliminated the option, there would be no way out. I’d never have to face the temptation of wagering Eve’s life against my pain and torture. She’d be safer this way.  
    “Yes.”  
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yes, Master.”
    He moved quickly, taking my sight with a blindfold, the ability to beg and plead with a ball gag. Nausea rose with panic, and my heartbeat thundered in my ears as he silenced everything with earplugs. I could hear nothing past the roar in my head, see nothing beyond the suffocating darkness pressing on me. Gage had effectively isolated me within my own mind. I made protesting, terrified pleas—garbled muffles to my plugged ears—and pulled against the restraints. Legs trembling violently, I barely had the strength to keep myself upright. Had I not been chained to the wall, I would have crumbled to the floor.  
    What have I done?
    At the first graze of his teeth to my nipple, every muscle in my body stiffened. I held my breath, not knowing if he planned to serve pain or pleasure, and not knowing was excruciating. He sucked my nipple into the scorching cavity of his mouth. I wasn’t sure if I whimpered or moaned—maybe it was a little of both. His fingers teased my other breast, and he trailed a hand down my stomach, making my muscles quiver beneath his touch. He dipped a finger into my wetness, teasing a moment before he pulled away.  
    Nothing could have prepared me for the first strike between my thighs. I would have screamed if he’d left me with the choice. Good God, he was whipping my most intimate place. He wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to hurt me. My legs cramped with each strike, and I sobbed for mercy as tears escaped the blindfold.  
    Several long minutes passed. I was beginning to relax when the heat of his mouth replaced the whip. I jerked to my toes as his tongue swirled the pain away with expert strokes, delving deeper as he simultaneously released my ankles from the restraints. He lifted me, urged my legs around his shoulders, and probed my ass with a finger as he kissed me intimately. The closer his tongue brought me to oblivion, the more I gave myself over to him.  
    I wanted to come so badly—was certain I begged for it in muffled pleas—but knew it was off-limits. Gage Channing knew how to take a woman to the edge, and he was even better at pulling back at the last second. He did it relentlessly. Tears dripped from my chin onto my heaving breasts, and I could think of nothing but how I wish he’d let me come . . . let me fall into oblivion where nothing had the power to touch me.  
    He abruptly pulled away, leaving me suspended in a combination of anticipation and apprehension. I had no way to measure time, and the longer he left me there—bound, gagged, unable to see, hear, or speak—the closer I reached hysteria. Where was he? Surely he wouldn’t leave me alone like this? In the midst of my thundering heartbeat, I suddenly remembered his words over the weekend.  
    “You need to learn to trust me.”
    Was this a test? Gage wasn’t careless—he’d said as much himself. He was probably standing in front of me, enjoying my internal struggle not to let blinding panic take over. I couldn’t help but wonder what made a man like him tick. He’d