Page 83 of Depraved

He shushes me gently. “Almost there. You can take it.”

The plug settles deep inside me, and the pain disappears.

“Good girl. You’re being so brave for me.”

He kisses my inner thigh. “Stay.”

As though I have a choice when I’m bound to our bed.

But I don’t offer any acerbic comeback. I’m beyond banter. All I can do is shake and surrender to the sensation of the plug filling my ass while the vibrator teases my clit.

He briefly goes to the ensuite to clean up, but he’s back with me in a minute.

He cups my jaw, tipping my head back so he can look deep into my eyes. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I promise. “I want your name on my heart.”

He’s been branded with my name for years. I crave the same sign of devotion on my body.

He picks up the tattoo gun. “This will hurt a little. I want you to focus on how good it feels to have that vibrator on your cunt and my plug stretching your ass. Don’t forget to stay very still for me.”

“I can do it,” I assure him.

I’ll endure anything for him.

“That’s my stubborn kitten,” he says, voice warm with affection.

The tattoo gun starts to buzz. I watch as he lowers it to my chest, right above my heart.

I hiss in a sharp breath at the first kiss of the needle. It stings, but I relish the sight of the bold black ink branding my creamy skin. The light pain mingles with the pleasure of the toys on my most intimate areas, and I hover at the brink of an orgasm.

I’m a being of pure sensation, and I float on a cloud of bliss.

By the time the B takes shape in his slanted handwriting, I’m euphoric. My body stops trembling, and I relax into the mattress as I submit to him completely. He commanded me to remain still. I’m compelled by his will, lost in his power over me.

This man owns me, body, heart, and soul.

And now, I bear a physical sign of his ownership. His name is permanently inked into my skin, a match for my name over his heart.

He’s my Brandon, and I’m his Karolina.

Just like we were always meant to be.

He takes a moment to put a protective layer of second skin over the tattoo, then presses a worshipful kiss to the scar on my shoulder, where I took a knife in my flesh for him.

I’ll wear the mark just as proudly as I bear his name on my chest.

“You can come for me now,” he murmurs against the scar.

At the same time, he tweaks my nipples, finally pushing me over the edge.

My ecstasy is absolute, a physical and emotional sense of completion. The world goes white for a moment, and my back arches as I scream out my orgasm.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growls. “And all mine.”

I blink hard to clear my vision, unwilling to lose sight of him for even an instant.

He frees my wrists from the cuffs and carefully urges me onto my hands and knees, making sure not to bump my fresh tattoo.