Wild: Hangman's Haunt Book 1

by Kay Elle Parker

  “Father came to my room one night, just walked in and told me Zara had come into heat and it was my duty to serve her as a man. She was fifteen, Baylee. Fifteen and as slender as a faerie. Perfect, tiny, and even at eighteen I was hung. I’d have broken her, damaged my best friend. All because of a tradition and the power-hungry fathers we’d had the misfortune to be born to.”

  “You turned her down.”

  “It was the first time I found the balls to deny my father. He’s not a man who takes no kindly, and his temper is notorious. He beat me black for embarrassing him, disgracing the family name and emasculating him. The way he saw it, I was no better than a eunuch, poisoning the bloodline. Most of the clan relocated, temporarily, deeper into the forest to escape his anger. He’d have punished the slightest infraction with more severity than it merited.”

  Baylee trembled against him. “When she told me...I thought the worst of you, Dax. It shames me that I could believe it of you. I didn’t know how I could fall in love with a man who raped children, and it broke me to think I’d have to walk away from you.”

  Daxon carried her up the steps to his dark porch, set her gently on her feet. The door opened with a simple twist of the handle, and he led her inside carefully. “Do you think I’d blame you for that? It’s one part of our history I could never take pride in.”

  “I should have trusted you.”

  He flicked the hall light on and gave her an understanding smile. “Baby, there’s no fault here.”

  She blew out a hard breath and let the blanket fall to the floor. His eyes drifted down over her small breasts, a touch larger than they’d been a few days before, with the nipples erect and pink with arousal. Her belly, flat as ever, would soon begin to curve and swell with the life inside.

  “You promised me something, Daxon. I’d like you to collect it now.”

  He groaned. Temptation had never been so cruel. He stepped into her, forcing her back up against the wall, thrusting the bulge in his pants against the cleft of her mound. “You need to rest, Baylee.”

  “No, I don’t. I need you, Dax. I need what you promised. I’ve eaten, I’ve slept and now I’m horny.” She pushed her hand between his cock and her sex, slipping her fingers into her pussy before holding her hand between them with the evidence of her arousal on her fingers. “See?”

  Damn her. He sucked her fingers into his mouth, her secretions tart on his tongue as he licked them clean. “Spanking, handcuffs and anal, if I remember correctly?”

  “Skip the spanking for tonight,” she purred persuasively. “Handcuffs and anal should be plenty to keep us occupied, don’t you think?”

  “Hmmm. That depends on who’s boss, doesn’t it? Oh wait, that would be me.” He dropped to his knees, pushing her legs apart so he could press his face against her mound. He breathed deep, inhaling the intoxicating scent. “I do like being boss. It means I can do anything I want to with this sexy little body. You’d take it, wouldn’t you, Baylee? You’d take whatever I did to you.”

  She moaned. “And beg for more.”

  “Damn right.” His tongue lashed across her clit in a hard swipe.

  Baylee cried out, pussy clenching, body doubling over with the shock of the caress. Her hands gripped his hair like a lifeline.

  “Ah-ah,” he admonished wickedly. “Playing by my rules now, little witch. Hands on your head and keep them there. Break my rules and you’ll find out how a Dominant keeps his submissive in line.”

  Reluctantly, she lifted her hands to her head, rested them atop one another, leaving her body stretched out and completely open. He worshipped her then, a master on his knees before his goddess, and paid tribute to her in the most carnal way.

  He made love to her pussy, lapping at her as her cries echoed through his house, their home, filling what had been an empty space with the first memories of them together, here.

  His teeth grazed her clit, her labia, nipping lightly at the sensitive flesh until she writhed in place, dancing sensually against the wall. He saw her muscles tense, her opening clenching and releasing, frantic for something to fill her.

  “Come for me, Baylee,” he ordered, sliding two fingers deep inside her as his teeth bit down hard on her clit. Her muscles jumped, pulsed, clamped down hard on him as orgasm ripped her apart.

  Her scream was incredibly satisfying to his Dominant side.

  As she started to slide down the wall, eyes half-closed and what little blue he could see blurred, he folded her gently over his shoulder, put his hand on her tempting ass to hold her in place and ascended the stairs in darkness.

  Playroom or bedroom, he pondered, standing at the apex to both rooms. He’d turned his spare room into a miniature playroom for those nights his lover of choice—past lover of choice, he corrected—wished to play hardcore.

  Sexual perversions in his world were considered acts of freedom. Acts that were deemed illegal in several states became everyday occurrences within the clan; they were essentially animals, after all, and animals fucked how and when they liked.

  Bedroom, he decided and pushed the door open. She’d had enough shocks the past couple days without adding a kitted-out playroom to the mix. He’d need to work her towards it gradually, introducing bits here and there until she felt comfortable with them, and him.

  He bent, depositing Baylee on the bed carefully, making sure she didn’t bounce, didn’t jar herself. She murmured contentedly, then scowled when he switched the bedside lamp on. “Baylee, wait here. Understand me?”

  She grunted and tried to roll onto her side.

  Daxon slipped back out into the hallway, went through the other door and flicked the light on. He studied his playroom the same way an artist studied his materials before he began a masterpiece; with the utmost care and attention to detail.

  Two sets of drawers, almost as tall as he was, stood against the far wall. Those held a selection of instruments designed for a variety of purposes. He had plans for all of them when it came to Baylee, but first he wanted to start her off slowly, sweetly, enhancing her initial BDSM experience with pleasure amid the pain.

  Ignoring his apparatus—the small Saint Andrews cross, the exam table, the stocks—he crossed directly to the drawers and opened the ones he required.

  Padded cuffs; not exactly the handcuffs he’d promised, but the padding would protect Baylee’s wrists if—when—she struggled. Handcuffs would cut into her skin, could hurt her, and he couldn’t allow that. When he brought pain into the equation, it would be measured and strictly monitored.

  He chose a strawberry-scented lube, one he knew provided quality slickness. He wanted to give her a pleasant memory when it came to her first time receiving him anally. He was not an easy size to take there even if his partner had had anal sex previously. The right lube made all the difference.

  He considered ankle restraints but dismissed that option for now. He wanted to arouse her, not petrify her. Same with the blindfold; losing one’s sight could be titillating but on the flip side of the coin, could also invoke feelings of claustrophobia.

  Just the cuffs and the lube then, he decided as he came out of the room, sending it back into darkness, and stepped back into his room. His pregnant lover was exactly where he’d left her—long, lean and unbearably sexy.

  “Baylee?”

  She made a cute snuffling sound that brought a grin to his face. He set his goodies on the bedside table and knelt on the bed beside her. “I take it you don’t want to play?”

  Those lovely lips curved into a sleepy smile. In answer, she held her arms up, wrists touching. “I’m all yours. Just be gentle, it’s my first time.”

  Daxon chuckled and stroked the back of his fingers over her cheek. Still pale, he noted, and shadows lurked under her eyes. He took her wrists and set one down on the bed, ran fingertips up and down the sensitive skin of the other. Her hand went limp in his grasp, and he grabbed a cuff, tightened it snugly so only a finger fit between the padding and her skin. Repeating it with the other hand,
he sat back and admired her wearing nothing but his cuffs.

  Tantalizing.

  He leaned down, brushed her mouth with his. Amused, he watched her pout when he drew away. “Roll over, baby, make yourself comfortable.”

  She sighed, stretched, then executed a slow turn until she lay flat on her belly, her hands tucked under head. She hummed in appreciation as his hands went to work on her shoulders, kneading deeply to eradicate taut knots, before moving down her back with the same attention to detail.

  Daxon grabbed two pillows. “Lift your hips, Baylee. That’s it, nice and high. A little higher...good. Good girl.” He stacked the pillows beneath her and spent a few moments admiring the curve of her ass, the delicious way she presented it to him. He adjusted his cock carefully. “All right, baby, just relax now. There we go,” he murmured as she melted into the mattress.

  Dax opened the drawer beside the bed and pulled out a pair of snap-hooks. He tested them, made sure they were in perfect working order—he needed them to release quickly if needed. “Give me your left hand.”

  She offered it, and he snapped the hook through the cuff’s D-ring and then onto the lowest part of the headboard, just above the mattress. He repeated it with her other hand.

  “How does that feel, Baylee?”

  “Weird.”

  Daxon smiled. His poor baby didn’t have any idea just how weird things could get. He’d just have to show her.

  WEIRD wasn’t the most honest answer she could have given him. Baylee fought not to struggle against the cuffs. Given she was planning on running once Dax fell asleep, being restrained to the bed had cold sweat pearling down her spine.

  Her fingers curled around the rungs he’d clipped the hooks to, trying to convince herself the lack of movement was a choice of her own making. Her arms trembled lightly with the strain.

  No, weird wasn’t an honest response; terrified, however, was.

  Terrified of their final time. Terrified of leaving him. Terrified of being alone, thinking of him and the hurt she’d caused him while she raised their babies by herself.

  His hands smoothed over her buttocks, a solitary finger tracing the seam between them all the way down to her pussy. She stiffened automatically, hips shifting nervously atop the pillows.

  She didn’t know how long she could hold the betrayal inside her, how long she could keep the weight on her shoulders from dragging her down. Zara’s blasé account of how the females of the clan were treated had drawn a line in the sand for Baylee, one she had to stand behind and accept or cross and be damned.

  She’d rather be damned than party to atrocities.

  “I won’t hurt you, Baylee. Trust me.”

  His words slashed her heart, claws digging into flesh and spilling blood. She squeezed her eyes shut against the protest forming in her throat. Her decision had been made, was final, but Daxon was bound to his people.

  They wouldn’t let her go, not now they knew she carried offspring. If she told him of her plans to flee, she had no doubt he’d stop her. Either out of love or duty. She wasn’t sure which hurt more.

  “I want you to.” Guilt made her voice strong, confident. If he hurt her, maybe she could atone for some of her sins. Feeling a semblance of the agony she was going to cause him was a small price to pay. “I want you to hurt me, Dax. I can take what you give me, remember? I can beg for it.”

  “Baylee.” The hand stroking her ass stilled. “Anal isn’t really the best time to entertain rough fantasies. Not when you’re a virgin in that respect. I could do real damage.”

  “You won’t.”

  “Baylee, I’m not sure...” He sounded doubtful, his fingers twitching on her cheek. He had the urge, the dominance, the capability to do exactly what she asked; she knew it was only his morals that kept him from acting.

  Morals could be bypassed with the right incentive.

  “Give me this,” she murmured. “If it’s only for tonight, be a beast for me, Dax. I can cry and scream and plead for mercy if you need me to.” She felt him shudder, the tremor ripping through him as hard as orgasmic spasms. “Pain doesn’t scare me, not with you. It’s going to hurt anyway, right?”

  “It doesn’t have to.” His fingers dug into her flesh.

  It did. She needed to make amends for her actions and pain was the payment. “I know what I’m asking of you, Dax. I know you want to protect me. You don’t have to protect me from you.”

  The bed shifted under his weight as he crawled over her, bracing his body above her and teasing her ear with his mouth. “Wrong, little witch. I’m the only one I should be protecting you from. You’ve already seen what I can do to you when I’m off the chain, baby.”

  Oh, she remembered. Braced against the couch in the clearing, Daxon’s exposed beast rutting into her like a demon. Simpler times, when things were just about him and her, and this shit-storm she found herself in was far away over the horizon.

  “You told me then I couldn’t take you here,” he eased off her and parted her, brushed over her rosebud with a light stroke, “when I didn’t have control over myself. Now you want me to relinquish that control and fuck you, knowing I’ll hurt you? That the pain will be more than you can bear?”

  Her heart thudded in her chest. “Maybe my pain threshold is greater than you think.”

  His finger flicked over her, teasing the delicate orifice. He leaned away and Baylee heard something click quietly. The scent of strawberries hit her, tempting and delicious. She sniffed the air. The smell grew stronger and she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.

  Daxon’s finger pushed into her ass so quickly, without warning, she made an odd grunting noise in her throat as she forced herself upright. The penetration was rough, forcing through her natural resistance. She bit back a cry, unwilling to prove him right.

  The pressure inside her abated with the removal of that single digit and Baylee breathed a sigh of profound relief. That relief morphed into panic when Dax set his free hand on the small of her back, pinning her down while he used two fingers to stretch her.

  Another choked cry, unable to move more than an inch or so, Baylee gripped the headboard fiercely. God help her, there was pain and pleasure mingled into one consuming entity and that was just from his fingers.

  He thrust a few times, scissoring his fingers, twisting them and stretching her bit by merciless bit. “Positive you have a high pain tolerance?”

  “Yes,” she ground out, unwilling to admit defeat.

  “We’ll see.” His laugh was dark and dirty.

  Baylee’s eyes popped wide as he added another finger. Cool slickness dribbled between her cheeks, aiding the sharp drives of his fingers. Her hips hunched, trying to trap him but he simply pulled his hand free and left her bereft, embarrassingly displayed, while he slipped from the bed.

  Panting, she allowed herself to yank against the cuffs for a moment. They remained secure, holding her in place as she listened to Dax’s zipper being lowered, heard the soft rustle of his pants pooling on the floor.

  Moment of truth.

  “I’ve decided to be lenient with you, Baylee. After all, you’ve expressed your desires, even though you were topping from the bottom—no pun intended. So the only mercy I’ll give you is a lubed cock.” He climbed back on the bed, kneeling behind her, the pillows supporting her at the perfect angle for his penetration.

  Baylee braced herself, breathing erratic as she felt the head of his cock press against her. The strawberry smell blossomed from faded to potent, and she knew she’d remember this moment whenever she had the good luck or misfortune to scent it again.

  “You can scream, Baylee.” Dax’s tone changed, deepening, and she wondered whether it was his face or Vex’s she’d see if she dared to look. She got the feeling Vex was now at the wheel, and that meant a no-holds-barred fuck. “Cry, plead, weep, beg, scream. None of it matters, no one can hear you. The only word you need is red. Understand?”

  “I understand.” She tightened her grip on the rungs, squeezed
her eyes closed.

  Daxon surged forward on a snarl, piercing her shallowly with one thrust. Her breath backed up in her lungs, the scream trapped in her throat. She reared back, putting unbearable strain on her wrists and shoulders, gasping for air.

  He lunged again, spearing into her, his hands gripping the headboard and using it for leverage. A low rumble emanated continuously from his chest, a sign of his dominance over her, as he worked his full length inside her rear passage.

  Ecstasy, she thought blindly. The combination of vicious pain and the promise of unprecedented pleasure overrode her nervous system. She threw her head back and screamed, a primitive cry of delight.

  “Take me deeper.” He braced himself on one hand against the headboard, used the other to wrap her hair around and through his fingers, yanking her head back to expose the vulnerable part of her throat. He bit her just there, right on the pulse point.

  Baylee bucked, driving him all the way home. Her breath came in harsh, grunting pants. This was what she’d wanted, what she’d been prepared to beg for. Passion, pain, pleasure, submission, all twined into one violent melding of bodies.

  His mouth remained on her neck, no longer biting but suckling in deep, long pulls that would no doubt leave her with the mother of all hickeys. Branded by him, in more ways than one, she relished the final few moments of their time together, recognizing the signs of his impending climax.

  His hips worked like pistons, his pelvis smacking against her parted cheeks with lurid, obscene sounds. The rhythm changed then, slowing, every thrust striving for an extra inch deeper. His groan sounded painful as his body stiffened, his cock swelling and releasing a warm flood that triggered her happy place and sent her spinning into oblivion.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Baylee had a rough moment when she blinked her eyes open. She was unbound, clean, not a little sore, and half-sprawled on top of Daxon’s naked body. Although she could have cuddled more, she didn’t miss the fact she’d probably just wasted a good chunk of her getaway time by succumbing to post-coital fatigue.