Lured into Love (Blossom in Winter #2) - Melanie Martins Page 0,59

onto hers, she adds, “So do as you are told.”

For someone who spent her entire youth defying authority, it’s hard to swallow her passive-aggressive tone, and while I’m curious enough to see how far she will go with her little game, I still have the tenacity to ask, “You gonna punish me, huh?” I pause, gauging her reaction. “Are you gonna do it with that whip?”

Yara doesn’t hide her annoyance as she keeps glaring at me. And a smirk escapes me as I observe her anger rising. It doesn’t seem like she enjoys being unmasked and her intentions called out. My provocative tone turns her expression into a stern one, and as she reaches down to unfasten her belt, I hear her saying, “I’m no longer using a whip.” My eyes fall on the leather belt that is now between her hands folded in two. And as I look at it, I can already feel the sting on my ass. No one has ever dared to go as far as Yara. But today, boundaries have been thrown out the window. And no one would’ve ever imagined me asking, “How many swats?”

“Five strong ones.”

I’m not sure what strong is gonna feel like, but five seems bearable. And as I keep thinking something through, I ask, “If I do it, then you’ll undress and shower with me?”

My question makes her lips curve up with a naughtiness I haven’t seen before, and after she presses her mouth to mine for a peck, she whispers, “There’s only one way to find out.”

Chapter 14

Emma Hasenfratz

I watch not-so-discreetly as Mrs. Van Lawick puts her hair up into a new ponytail as she looks at her reflection in the mirror above the sinks. Then she takes her toiletries bag, opens it, and applies some spray on her hair. There is something captivating about looking at Yara do her beauty routine after a shower. It feels intimate. Afterward, she uses three creams, one for her face, one for her eyes, and one for her neck. I recognize the brand—my mom uses the same one, which makes me wonder her age, but I’d never dare to ask her.

“I’ve never met someone like you,” I tell her as I’m still recovering from the incredible orgasm she gave me.

“Someone like me?” She turns around, her dark brown eyes landing on me as I light up a cigarette. “What do you mean?”

Before answering, I take my time enjoying the view as she takes a new polo shirt and puts it on. This one is white and marine blue on the shoulders, but it fits her just fine. Then, taking a puff on my cigarette, I say, “Yeah, I mean, someone into… um…”

“Someone into sadomasochism?”

Her blunt answer makes my stomach squeeze, and the word “Yeah” barely leaves my lips.

Yara lets out a quick chuckle in return while applying her creams. “Oh, you have definitely met someone like me.”

I squint my eyes at her insinuation. Does she mean Van Dieren? Of course she does, they are so alike. And before I can even ask her about it, Yara is standing right in front of me and takes the cigarette I’m holding before putting it between her lips. Then she takes a steady inhale of smoke and puffs it out.

“My chauffeur has just arrived. See you soon in Amsterdam, Ms. Hasenfratz.”

Without further ado, she exits the changing room, leaving me baffled. And before I can even cover myself, her chauffeur steps in and takes her bags with him.

Resting the back of my head against the wall, I exhale loudly, ruminating over everything I’ve gone through today. Jeez… I’ve experienced a lot of crazy shit in my life, but having an affair with a married noblewoman who happens to be a sadist is by far the craziest of them all.

Not even ten minutes later, my iPhone beeps, and I jump a little when I see that it’s Petra calling.

“Hey, how are you?” I greet as I pick up the call.

“Hi, I’m outside. Your housekeeper is not here. Can you come out and open me the door, please?”

What? Did I invite Petra to come over today? I don’t think so. “Yeah, my housekeeper is out. Alright, gimme a sec.”

I grab the clothes I was wearing this morning and head outside to the main entrance. There, I find Petra standing on the front porch, wearing a linen shirt and a pair of denim shorts. Her long hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, and I must say,