Free Distorted Lines (Blurred Lines Volume 2) by Breena Wilde Page A

There are white sheets and a half a dozen decorative pillows in all shades of blue. The sheet is rolled back.
    “Get in bed and try to sleep.” Lincoln pulls the sheet over me and gives me a slight smile. “Night, Cadence.”
    It could be three in the afternoon for all I know, but I am exhausted. So I close my eyes and listen for the door to open and close, signaling that Lincoln has left. He doesn’t leave though, and I realize he isn’t going to. The room goes dark.
    “Night, Lincoln,” I say sleepily.

 
    Chapter 2
     
    My mind is fuzzy, but my body is fully awake. Someone is rubbing my clit and sucking on a nipple, tugging it in his mouth, running his tongue over it.
    “Cadence. You ready to fuck , sweetie? Your body seems ready. God, you’re so fucking wet.” I open my eyes. The light is on and Zane is watching me.
    My heart speeds up. Game face, Cadence , I tell myself.
    “Of course, Zane,” I purr calmly.
    He leaves the bed. I watch him walk over to a table loaded with sex toys. When he comes back he’s carrying a blindfold, a butt plug, and a wooden paddle. I take a deep breath.
    “Do you know why this room is called The Blue Room?” he asks as he puts the blindfold over my eyes.
    “No.” I work to keep my voice calm.
    “Ask me why,” he says, flipping my body so I’m lying on my stomach.
    “Why?” As I ask, the wooden paddle lands across my buttocks.
    His lips kiss the spot he just spanked. “I call it the Blue Room because of the bruising I like to inflict on my guests while they’re here.” I can hear the smile in his voice. He bites my ass cheek and I cry out.
    “Say my name when you scream,” Zane says, slapping my ass again with the paddle.
    “Zane,” I say, forcing back tears. They aren’t of sadness, but pain. My tear ducts have always been connected to pain. Nothing I can do about it.
    “With you, I promise it won’t be too unbearable. The idea is to make your body accustomed to the pleasure and the pain. By the time we’re done, you’ll only want to fuck when it hurts.” This time when he spanks me, he massages my clit at the same time. It actually does change the pain, makes it sharper. But it also makes the pleasure build between my thighs and I find myself pressing my sex into his moving hand. He continues the process—spanking me and rubbing my clit with his thumb. “Oh my God,” I groan, and writhe, my mind caught between the pleasure and the pain.
    He doesn’t stop until an orgasm is ripped from me. Hard. Pounding. All consuming. My thighs are trembling.
    “Holy fuck.” I can’t help the words. The orgasm is different than I’ve ever felt.
    Zane chuckles and glides two fingers in my pussy, pulls them out and spreads the juices on my asshole. A moment later, he slowly, gently works the butt plug in and I moan.
    He rolls me over so I’m facing him and presses my knees apart. The blindfold is still on, and I can’t see him. 
    “Now, my delicious little whore, I’m going to fuck you.”
    I nod.
    He slaps my clit and I cry out, reaching for his hand. He pushes it away. “Don’t just nod. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
    “Fuck me, Zane. Fuck my wet pussy.” I grip the sheets in my fists. Waiting. Longing, truth be told.
    He slides his hardened dick in and I try not to think about the fact that he doesn’t have a condom on. He grabs my hips and pulls me so that he’s buried inside. He slides out and , as he slides back in, he slaps a breast with the paddle.
    I cry out.
    “You’re going to come again, sweet Cadence. You’re going to come all over my dick.” He slaps the other breast as he slams into me again.
    “Say my name, Cadence. Tell me how it feels.”
    “Zane. Oh my God, Zane.” There is so much going on, it’s sensory overload; between my eyes being covered, the butt plug, and his fucking my pussy while he slaps my breasts, all I can do is moan. But my pleasure is building. He’s right. I’m going to come again.
    His body is tensing,