I assure you I can be a bastard when I need to be. I can be an asshole of the highest order when the occasion calls for it. Tonight I want to be the man who fucks you so well you want sex more than you want your next breath.”
“I’m perfectly green right now, Master Ian.”
He brought the crop down on her ass. “That’s for sending away my two playmates for the night.”
She gasped. “I’m not really sorry about that.”
He brought it down again, making sure he struck the fleshiest parts of that gorgeous ass. “I’m not either. This isn’t punishment. This is reward. You’ll find they’re kind of one and the same sometimes.”
He struck her again, loving how her spine shivered, but she wasn’t calling out a safe word.
“That is good to know.”
She had more scars on her legs, wispy lines that had once been angry and red. How young had she been when some asshole had hurt her? How much had she suffered?
He couldn’t think about that now. She hadn’t asked him to heal her freaking soul. He brought the crop down again and again. “I’m going to stop at a count of twenty tonight. Then you’re going to stand up, take off that thong, and you’ll sit in my lap and thank me for the discipline.”
“Yes, Sir. I will, Sir.”
He brought the crop down, spreading the pain out over her luscious ass and thighs. He was careful with her. That was the part that made everything interesting for him—to see how controlled he could be, to ensure she got exactly the right amount of pain that would prepare her for pleasure.
He watched as she would shudder and then relax with every strike of the crop. “Tell me how it feels.”
“It hurts,” she said, her voice breathy and deep. “And then it doesn’t. You’re quite good at this part.”
He’d practiced a lot. He was at eighteen when her head fell forward. Yes, he’d timed that properly.
Or she was excellent at knowing how to play the game.
He brought the crop down again. He wanted to shut down that suspicious voice, but he knew it was for the best. He needed to think of her as a puzzle to solve, one that might end up being a trap in the end.
One more and he was through. Her ass was a pretty pink and she was ready. He could fuck her now and see if that satisfied him.
Her head came up and tears shimmered in her eyes, making them the most gorgeous shade of blue.
He was fucked because that suspicious voice shut down in a heartbeat. He reached for her and knew what happened next would change everything.
Part Six
He helped Charlie to her feet, her hand in his. He briefly thought about tangling their fingers together. He’d held her hand most of the night. At first she’d been awkward, her hand merely cupping his like spoons that didn’t quite fit together. At some point in time, that had changed. Her fingers had wound around his and they’d meshed perfectly.
She meshed perfectly with him. Too perfectly. He knew he should fuck her hard and send her on her way. He’d done everything he needed to, but he found himself sinking to the chair and staring at her as she stood in front of him. His dick was hard as a rock, and that wouldn’t bother him in any way except there was some piece of him that was softening.
He wasn’t even thinking that word. He wasn’t some romantic idiot. The woman in front of him was hot as fuck, and that was the end of it.
Her hands went to the only piece of clothing she had left. She pushed the tiny thong off her hips with an endearing klutziness. She nearly tripped and fell over as her right foot caught on the lacy thing. He jumped up to catch her, but she managed to stay on her feet.
Her face went pink, and she balanced against his upper arms. “Not as sexy as I wanted it to be, but there you go, Master Ian. One thong.”
That hadn’t been the only thing he’d asked of her. He sank back down and patted his lap.
Charlie stared at him for a moment. “Master Ian, if I sit on your lap, you’re going to have to get those leathers cleaned.”
Because her pussy was wet, ripe and ready.
He let his eyes narrow, focused his will on her. He hadn’t asked her to take care of his clothes.