Red Handed by Shelly Bell Page B

on fire. She couldn’t imagine the wax making her skin any hotter.
    She watched his eyes close as he seemed to concentrate on her breast, his facial hair abrading her skin.
    Her hands clenched with a need to spear her fingers into his hair and hold him to her chest. This felt like lovemaking. Not art. For a moment, she permitted herself the fantasy that Cole wanted her as more than his slave. That his mouth was on her breasts not because of the photographs or because he was her Master, but because he was falling in love with her.
    Her imagination ran wild with the fantasy of him sliding his cock between her breasts and climaxing on her skin. She wanted him to brand her with his teeth. Claim her with his cock.
    He growled against her chest. “You taste so fucking good.” He moved to her other breast and dragged his teeth from the lower swell of her breast over her nipple.
    Since she first saw him when she was a seventeen-year-old virgin, she’d felt a connection to him. An invisible tether drawing her to him. When they shared the same air, her other senses were enhanced. Everything became clearer when she was with him, almost as though she’d been living her life looking through distorted glass.
    But right now, she didn’t care. Nothing else mattered but the feel of him playfully tugging on her nipple.
    With a muttered curse, he released her nipple and picked up a candle.
    Her heart drummed a staccato beat, and her hips arched as her arousal built. She felt feverish, her skin tight. Her breasts ached, and her juices dripped down her thighs.
    On display, she was naked, completely bared to him with her knees spread wide enough for him to witness her extreme arousal.
    It was wanton and dirty. And she loved it.
    With a match in hand, Cole lit a green candle and held it over her.
    She held her breath, afraid to move.
    The first drop of hot wax hit her stomach, right above her belly button. Her body bowed, the shock of it drawing a soft cry from her lips. The wax’s heat quickly dissipated but left her aware of her sensitive skin.
    â€œToo hot, darlin’?” he asked. “If it is, say the word, and I’ll stop.”
    She shook her head. “No. Don’t stop.”
    He licked his lips as he tipped the candle over her breastbone, dripping the wax between her breasts and lower, down her belly. Her legs. Her arms. He blew out the candle and lifted another one over her, trailing the wax in what seemed like circular patterns.
    The heat in his eyes created a hunger in her she’d never known. For his lips. His touch. His cock. His heart.
    Every. Single. Piece.
    She knew she was playing with fire in more ways than one. Cole DeMarco was a dangerous man. Her enemy. A man who had sentenced her father to death and left her alone in this world. No matter what he did to her body, no matter how much she wanted to surrender, she couldn’t forget what she was here to do. She had to get the bank account information and save Tasha. And maybe, just maybe, she’d find the evidence to prove her father had been innocent.
    This was role play. A consensual game between two adults. He didn’t truly want her. She was simply a canvas for his art, no more than a prop for him to use in his photographs. For all she knew, he photographed all his trainees. Made them feel special. Made them feel beautiful. Made them want to submit to his commands.
    Cole’s expression turned feral, his eyes darkening, narrowing, and his lips flattening into a straight line. “Let’s turn those red nipples a deeper shade, shall we?” Wax dripped on the sensitive skin, lighting up the nerves and sending shockwaves deep within her pussy.
    She threw her head back and moaned, the fine line between role play and reality blurring.
    He dropped to his knees, his face hovering only inches over hers. His thumb swiped across her bottom lip and plunged past, brushing her tongue before sliding back out again. “Your