Chapter 212 Peaks of pleasure

Chapter 212 Peaks of pleasure
“Do you trust me?” Mordaine circled Finn. Hale sat beside me, warm hand stroking my thigh slowly.

Earlier, he had inspected Finn’s skin to make sure it was absolutely hairless. Then he wiped down his torso, cleaning away every trace of lotion, oil or cologne that could be flammable.

“I do.” Finn responded, eyes still locked with mine.

Jolt after jolt of current ran through my body. His eyes were predatory, a ferocious beast waiting to pounce.

“Let’s find out how much,” The dragon ran his hand through the leather flogger, and it lit up in flames. He met my widened eyes, “We thought you would like a little show to culminate your birthday, little wife.”

I croaked in my attempt to respond. Hale turned, and all three men stared at me. Butterflies took flight in my belly, and my pulse started to jump.

Similar to the helipad, it was like being surrounded by a pride of lions, their eyes dark and focused. The dark desire bleeding from their pores was an imposing presence in the room, pressing in on me, threatening to consume me whole.

The dragon smirked, and my stomach lurched. I knew that look. In the previous months, and lifetimes, Mordaine and I experimented with fire. It was the natural inclination for dragons, who happened to have this insatiable need for pain and kink.

But Finn was not like us. And right now, the dragon was prowling about him with a flaming flogger in his firm grip. My eyes shifted to Finn, waiting for him to bow out of this, to use his safe word.

He made no attempt to get up though, and his body seemed relaxed, eyes fixed on me. Mordaine raised the flogger, waving it in a circle above his head as the flames crackled and danced. And smack, he brought it down against Finn’s back.

My breath snagged in my throat. But Finn did not blink. You would be cuffed, whipped, humiliated.

I found that I had stopped breathing, as if by holding my breath, I could make sure of Finn’s safety.

“How does it feel?” The dragon’s voice tore through the room, low and controlled.

“Good,” Finn responded from behind the ski mask. "Just like a... bonfire.”

The whip whirled in the air again, and cracked down. I winced, squeezing my eyes shut for a second. Still, Finn did not move. My eyes narrowed, watching the next whip, and the next.

I inhaled sharply in realization. It was not touching him. The whip passed within two or three inches of his skin without actual contact. It was like a kiss of hot wind. Like a bonfire.

“Oh,” I whispered.

The danger in this play was the dragon’s control. He needed the perfect wrist control to not actually hit him by accident as this was a flexible flogger, not a rigid whip. But there also lay the thrill.

The uncertainty. It fired one’s nerves awake and kept you on the edge. Finn was noticeably on edge, his erection managing to get harder than he even was earlier. Large and shiny.

I bit my lip hard, and Hale leaned into me just then. He pecked my lips and squeezed my breast through the fabric of my dress. I moaned.

“You finally understand the rules of the game,” he whispered in that soft baritone that made my nipples ache. He had been listening to my thoughts again.

The crack of the flogger jerked my head up. It fell, over and over, coming within just one inch sometimes, bright flames and all. But it never directly hit Finn even once.

It was a performance, watching the dragon light the flogger up again every time the flames went out. He would pull the leather through his palm, and it would burst into flames again.

I was panting, my legs far, far apart because Hale was messing with my focus. His lips, his tongue, those fingers. They traced my neckline, pushed my bra down, and lifted my dress further up. But he never took them off completely.

Finn watched us from the other end of the room, never breaking his gaze once. And it was so hot, left me so wet, with my legs spread open like this, staring down my breasts at him, panting and moaning to Hale’s slow touches and kisses.

That hot mouth moved to the thin lace of my bra, and still not pulling it down, caught my nipple between his lips. I

I groaned and squirmed, sinking my fingers in his hair as he sucked, as Finn watched, his erection bobbing. The whole time, the flaming leather glazed over his chest, shoulders, his ass.

My thighs were quivering now, my body at the very edge of climax.

The flames went out at that second, and Hale pulled back immediately, as if on cue.

Smack.

It was an actual whip this time. An intentional crack of fire less, but undoubtedly hot leather across Finn’s back.

“Shh…” Hale cooed in my ear as I whimpered in distress. “It’s OK, fairy. We all like the pain as much as you do.”

He climbed off the bed then, moving my body as he spoke. I blinked in confusion, but relaxed in his grip till my head was positioned by the edge of the bed. Then he pressed his lips tenderly to my forehead, and pulled away.

“She’s yours now.” I heard the dragon say, and turned to find him settling on the couch at last.

Finn rose slowly to his feet, and yanked the protective mask off his head.

My heart pinched painfully. In the past, loose curls would have tumbled out at that, not that stupid straight hair. It was quite hypocritical how much I loved straight hair on Hale and especially Mordaine. But on Finn, it was an unforgivable sin.

He turned his back to me, and stared at the dragon. Waiting. The dragon smiled for the first time tonight, pleased. But the love in his eyes as he stared at Finn brought me as much relief as it filled me with painful jealousy. For both of them.

“She’s had that pussy on display for you the whole night.” The deep bass rumbled through the room, and cool night's air blew in from the open balcony door. “Are you not curious to find out what she tastes like?”

Finn did not need any encouragement. He spun around, crossing the bedroom at a leisurely pace towards me. My head contracted at the surreal sight.

It was happening. After all this time, it was happening.

My heart swelled, enlarging to the point of bursting. He slowed to a stop at the edge of the bed, eyes burning into me.

Then he pressed one knee on the bed, and crawled over me. I shivered from my head to my last toe as he lowered his body till he was hovering just a hair’s breath above me.

He moved his face, poising his lips by my ear. “I hate the sight of clothes on you.” The deep raspy voice was even more raspy, low, and dark. My body trembled below him. “I want nothing separating you from me, Lys. Take it off.”