The Assassin's Blade Read Online Free PDF

mind elsewhere and ignore it.
    He was right. Pleasure was akin to pain. In the same way pain deprived one of will and logic, so too did pleasure—except the pleasure beckoned one to yield completely to it while pain invoked the desire to flee it.
    His eyes darkened as he studied her. Even in her current state, she could see that he was not unmoved, that he was struggling against his own desires.
    After a moment he shifted on the bed, sliding his hand along her body until he reached her femininity. With his fingers, he parted the flesh at the apex of her thighs, exposing the delicate, sensitive, inner flesh. “This, of course, is the primary pleasure center,” he murmured, rubbing a fingertip over a tiny nub of flesh he’d exposed in a way that made Faylyn gasp.
    She jerked, trying, reflexively, to draw her knees up, so caught up in sensation that she’d forgotten her ankles had been bound and secured to the foot of the bed. She tried to squeeze her legs more tightly together to protect herself, but she could not, nor cross her legs to ward off his intrusive touch.
    He leaned toward her. “I could tease you for hours upon hours and give you no surcease, and the unceasing pleasure would become a torture you cannot imagine. Tell me and I will give you release.”
    “I do not want you to give me … anything,” she said through gritted teeth.
    “Your body tells me you lie.” He slipped his finger further, pressing into the opening of her sex. “You are wet … for me. Your body craves my touch. Tell me and I will show you pleasure you have never known.”
    Faylyn twisted her head away. “I cannot.”
    “Cannot? Or will not?”
    Faylyn ignored him.
    A faint smile curled his lips. “I would have been deeply regretful if you had succumbed so quickly,” he whispered. He turned away and studied the tray once more. Finally, to Faylyn’s mixed relief and disappointment, he removed the clamps and set them on the tray once more. Picking up a bottle of clear liquid, he poured some in the palm of one hand, rubbed his hands together and then turned to her. Reaching up, he began to smooth the liquid over her arms, massaging them, paying particular attention to the pulse point of her wrists and the tender bend at her elbows.
    It was some sort of oil, Faylyn realized, and almost immediately discovered that the oils became warm on her skin, heating the flesh, making it more sensitive to his touch. After a moment, he reached for the bottle once more, poured more into his palm and moved lower, massaging the oils over her throat and neck, then moving lower still and massaging her breasts. Her nipples tightened almost painfully at his touch, so sensitized by now she could not prevent herself from trying to jerk away from his touch.
    His eyes narrowed. Leaning forward, he placed his mouth over one nipple, nudged it with his tongue.
    Faylyn gasped, then groaned aloud as his mouth closed over the nipple and sucked. She wanted him to stop, desperately wanted him never to stop. She was writhing in the agony of ecstasy, moaning as if in pain long before he finally lifted his tortuous mouth from her flesh.
    He stared at her a long moment, his face a mask of careful control. His hand shook slightly as he lifted it and traced the curve of her lips. He leaned forward until his own mouth was little more than a hair’s breadth from hers but stilled. After a long moment, he leaned away, drew a shaky breath.
    He looked away.
    She thought for several moments that he would rise and leave her. Instead, the mask of control descended once more and he reached again for the oils and continued the massage he’d begun, moving slowly down her body, rubbing the oil into her torso and belly until he reached her thighs.
    He stared thoughtfully at her bound legs for several moments. “This presents a difficulty,” he murmured.
    Faylyn was far too deeply immersed in the euphoria of ecstasy for the comment to make any sense to her. Even when he rose and moved