The War (Bratva Blood #2) - S.R. Jones Page 0,27

don’t move,” he orders.

As always, I do as he says. My legs are spread wide, my body leaning forward at the waist as I hold onto the sink and wait. He’s gone; where, I don’t know. It seems like hours but is only minutes before I hear him return.

He stands behind me and as my gaze meets his in the mirror, my heart speeds up.

Chapter Seven

Cassie

I look at Konstantin in the mirror behind me, watching me. His gaze is dark, and hungry. He has something in his hand, and I hear a thwack. I look around and gasp. He’s holding a riding crop in one hand, smacking it on the upturned palm of his other.

“Two years ago I got involved in talks to take over a company I’d had my eye on for ages,” he says. Thwack. Another hit of the whip on his hand.

My pussy clenches because I can imagine what he’s going do to with that crop. Oh God, it will be better than Tim’s pathetic spanking attempts; I know it will. I hope he doesn’t go too hard on me. I don’t want to be properly hurt. I understand enough about myself to realize this.

“I wanted it badly, but the man running it was a… How do you British say it? Oh, yes, wanker. A wanker. Total fucking idiot, and he demanded that if I wanted to buy his company, I had to go play polo one weekend. I bought the whole shitty outfit. Went and played polo, drank champagne with them after, and bought his company. I’ve not had good use of this since.”

Thwack, thwack, thwack.

“Don’t you have to be able to ride to play polo?” I ask, turning to look over my shoulder at him again.

“Eyes front,” he orders.

I turn to the front.

“Good girl. Yes, you do, but I learned to ride in Afghanistan.”

“What?” I turn again, remember his orders and face front immediately.

“Rode out for three weeks with tribes fighting the Taliban.” He states this as matter of fact, as if he’s telling me he went for a haircut.

“Anyway, I’ve never used this since.” He pauses and his voice lowers. “I’ve been thinking about using it on you since the first time I saw you in the coffee shop.”

Oh. My. God.

“My perfect, sunny, gorgeous girl, bent over for me, her ass turning red.”

I suck in air and blow it out. I’m desperately turned on but also scared.

“I like the idea,” I confess, my voice shaky. “But I don’t want to be hurt.”

He takes hold of my chin, firm but gentle, and turns me to face him. “I’d never hurt you. You can trust me, completely. You want a word, pick a word. You say it and everything stops.”

“A word?” I’m struck dumb by this, by him.

“Yes, Cassie, a word. Any word. Choose one you will remember.”

“Shelter,” I say without thinking.

A tiny divot forms between his eyebrows, but he doesn’t say anything. I can see him wondering why I picked that word though, his mind calculating as his eyes narrow. Then he gives a tiny shake of his head.

“Shelter it is.”

“Do you often take your crop to your girlfriends?” I ask lighthearted.

“No,” he says. “I’ve played before, but this is my riding crop, and I’ve never used it on anyone, except for you.”

“And the horse you rode.” I shrug.

“I didn’t use it on the horse. And I’m using it on you in an entirely different way.”

“Okay,” I say.

“Stop thinking, Cassie. That’s an order.”

“Okay.”

“No, answer me properly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now stop overthinking, stop worrying, and just feel. If you want to stop, say shelter.”

“Yes, sir.”

He runs one hand down my left buttock and my outer thigh. “Good girl.”

Then he moves back, and I brace, waiting for the hard slap of the riding crop, but it doesn’t come. Instead, soft leather caresses my skin, over my thighs, my hips, and fleetingly between my legs.

Thwack.

Oh, crap. I wasn’t tensed or braced for it anymore. It stings, but it’s not a horrid pain; it’s a nice sting.

Hot breath blows over my neck as Konstantin whispers in my ear, “I’m not punishing you or here to hurt you, Cassie. I want to make you come so hard you forget everything in your head. I want you to feel that glorious, biting mix of pleasure and pain, so you simply feel and then forget.”

He smacks the crop against me again, and I realize now that he’s using incredible restraint because it’s a sharp, quick, biting sting, but it’s not truly painful.

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