Page 49 of Savoring Sienna
“Fuck—fuck—Master Crone, please?—”
“Please what?” He traced idle circles around her entrance in a teasing caress. “Use your words, kitten.”
“Make me come, you sadistic fuck.”
He grinned. “Since you asked so politely.”
The next strike was a masterpiece—hard enough to make her scream, the leather wrapping around her clit and pulling just enough to send a jolt of pleasure-pain through her. He followed it immediately with his fingers, two of them plunging into her dripping pussy, curling against her G-spot as his thumb pressed down on her clit.
Sienna came with a wail, her body convulsing, her back arching so hard he thought she might snap. He didn’t stop, riding her through it, his fingers working her mercilessly until she was a trembling, sobbing mess.
When he finally released her and gathered her limp body against his chest, she let out a watery laugh. “I hate you.”
Crone pressed a kiss to her temple as the words rumbled from his chest, “No, you don’t.”
She tilted her head up. Her eyes were glazed but glimmered with emotion. “No,” she admitted. “I really, really don’t.”
“I’ve got you, kitten” he murmured into her hair, cradling her close as she slowly came back to herself. “I’ll always have you.”
He marveled at how far they had come—from the first meeting when both believed themselves too broken and too filled with darkness for love. Now here they were. Her trust in him was absolute and his heart completely hers. What had begun as two wounded souls seeking escape in pain had deepened into a profound and healing bond. Their shared darkness carved spaces where light could enter, where love could take root and flourish.
Sienna peered up at him through heavy-lidded eyes with her cheeks still flushed and glowing. A mischievous smile played across her lips. “So... about that promise to explore my back entrance...”
Crone’s answering laugh rumbled deep in his chest. His kitten was insatiable. “I see someone’s feeling greedy tonight.”
Chapter Nineteen
Pandora’s Box Private playroom, Rawhide Ranch Dungeon
Crone
The door to the private room swung open with a soft whoosh as Crone shouldered his way inside with Sienna cradled against his chest. She was still trembling, her breath warm against his neck, and her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt like she was afraid he’d drop her.
As if I’d ever let her fall.
The playroom was exactly as he remembered—Pandora’s Box, a name that had always amused him. Because once you opened it, there was no going back.
Dark green walls swallowed the dim, golden light from the sconces, casting long shadows over the thick copper-and-velvet furnishings. A king-sized bed dominated the space, its dark wood frame carved with intricate knots. The sheets were already turned down in invitation. Against one wall stood an oak armoire, its double doors slightly ajar, revealing glimpses of implements hanging from hooks—floggers, paddles, a riding crop with a worn leather handle. The bottom drawers, he knew,held restraints, plugs, vibrators, and lube. Everything a Dom might need to ruin a woman properly.
Sienna made a soft, needy sound against his throat. Her hips shifted restlessly. He tightened his grip on her with his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass.
“Easy, kitten,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “We’re not in a rush.”
She huffed with her breath hot against his skin. “Speak for yourself. I’m dying here.”
Her sass drew a delighted rumble from Crone's chest as he carried her to the bed. The grip of her thighs around his waist sent heat racing through his veins. The thick carpet muffled his steps as the plush give of it beneath his boots was seduction in another form. The way she writhed against him with her pussy still swollen and slick from the whipping left a wet patch on his shirt.
He laid her down gently, but his hands were rough as they spread her thighs, baring her to him. Her pussy was a mess—reddened but glistening, and her clit swollen and dark from the flogger’s attention. He traced a finger along her inner thigh watching her shudder in its wake.
“Look at you,” he murmured. “Still so wet for me. Even after I turned you inside out.”
She whimpered, her hips lifting. “Master Crone?—”
“Shhh.” He pressed a finger to her lips, then dragged it down, over her chin, her throat, and between her breasts. He caught the corset on either side and with one twist, tore it from her body. “I know what you need.”
He reached for the lube first, slicking his fingers before pressing one against her tight back entrance. She tensed, then forced herself to relax. Her breath hitched as he worked her open, one finger, then two, scissoring gently.
“That’s it,” he praised, watching the way her body yielded to him, and the way her asshole fluttered around his fingers. “Such a good girl, taking me so well.”
