Damn it. Of course she was scared—which was why this was so important.
“Abigail,” I said as soothingly as possible. “How many types of spankings are there?”
She didn’t answer. She just continued to look at me with a confused expression.
“Three,” I said, wanting her to understand my logic. “What was the first one?”
Come on, Abby. Remember for me.
I knew the second she remembered the word erotic because her eyes lit up with anticipation, replacing the fear and confusion.
Oh, yes. This would be fun.
“Get your ass upstairs.”
She bolted from the table.
I took our plates from the table and set them in the dishwasher. Since Apollo had been outside before dinner, I let him follow me up the stairs, leaving him outside my bedroom and closing the door behind me as I entered.
Abby stood n**ed by the bed, waiting for me. Her hands hung by her side, and I noted the faint tremor running through her body. Again, her obedience struck me. I’d expected it, of course, but somehow, coming from her, it always meant more.
I unbuttoned my shirt. “On your stomach over the pillows.”
Pillows tonight. No whipping bench. Neither one of us was ready for the bench to be brought out again just yet.
She climbed onto the bed, showing her beautiful bare ass to me. I took a condom from my pocket and set it beside her on the bed.
Damn, she looked hot. Lying there. Waiting for me.
I slipped out of my pants and walked to the head of the bed. Making sure she watched, I pulled out a tie-down and took her hands. “We can’t have you trying to cover yourself, can we?”
I secured her wrists, gave a gentle tug to position her on her elbows, and stepped back. Sheer f**king perfection, I thought, letting my gaze travel across her vulnerable form.
I climbed up behind her on the bed and cupped her ass. “Have you been using your plug, Abigail?”
She didn’t tense up like she had before. She simply nodded.
“Good,” I said, taking her legs and spreading them to give her a more stable stance. “I want you open for me.” I ran a finger along her exposed slit. “Look at this, Abigail.” I licked the evidence of her arousal from my finger. “So slick already. Does the thought of me turning your backside red excite you?”
She didn’t answer, but the same tremor I’d noted earlier was still evident. She wanted this. I rubbed the sweet spot of her ass, brought my hand back and smacked her three times in quick succession. She moaned.
I struck her again, watching as my hand left a faint pinkish tinge on her skin. “The good people of New York pay your salary so you will work in the library, not sneak off into the Rare Books Collection.” I moved my hand each time, making sure I didn’t cause any unnecessary pain.
Only pleasure this time, Abby. Only pleasure.
She moaned again and thrust back against me.
I grabbed her ass and squeezed, feeling her arousal as my fingers dipped lower. “You’re so wet.”
I licked the tips of my fingers again and then pulled back to slap her pussy.
She moaned harder.
Hell, yes.
“Do you like that, Abigail?” I asked, smacking her again.
I didn’t expect her to answer. I struck the soft flesh between her legs one more time. Any more might cause pain, and I didn’t want that for her. With firm strokes, I worked on her backside again, spanking until the skin before me was an even shade.
“Your ass is a beautiful shade of pink.” I shifted so she could feel my hardness. “Soon I’ll do more than spank it. Soon I’ll f**k it.”
I couldn’t wait anymore and I doubted she could either. I ripped the condom open and rolled it on my erection. With one move, I pushed into her.
She moaned.
I pulled out, aching to slam into her. “No noise tonight or you can’t have my cock.” I spanked her again. “Do you understand? Nod if you do.”
She nodded frantically.
“Good.” I thrust inside her once again, just as she pushed back to take me deeper. “Greedy tonight, aren’t you?” I asked, entering her wet heat. “Well, that makes two of us.”
I grabbed her h*ps and began a steady rhythm—thrusting as hard and as deep as possible. She responded in kind, working her inner muscles to clench my c**k with each stroke into her. I looked down to where we were joined, watched as I slid in and out of her.
Wonder what she would do if I . . .
I slipped a hand between our bodies and rubbed her clit. She arched her back, her massive orgasm triggering my own.
She slumped off the pillows and I lowered myself to her side, taking the condom off and placing it on the floor. I ran a hand up her torso, skimmed her breast, and rubbed her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t putting undue pressure on her arms.
She was fine.
“I don’t believe I saw everything I wanted to on Wednesday. Perhaps you would be so kind as to set up an appointment for me to visit the Rare Books Collection again this coming Wednesday?” I looked up to her. “One thirty?”
“Yes, Master,” she agreed with a wicked grin.
“Oh, Abigail. How very, very naughty.” Her face flushed, and I rose to my knees to untie her. “I think that calls for a little reward. What do you think?”
I pushed the pillows out of the way and shifted her body so she rested on her back. “I asked you a question, Abigail—what do you think of a reward?”
“Whatever would please you, Master,” she whispered.
I stretched her arms above her head once again and retied them. “Whatever pleases me,” I mumbled under my breath.
I moved down her body, trailing my hands as I went. First along her arms and across her collarbone, down to her breasts, rubbing her pebbled nipples, then skirting her stomach until I came to her thighs. I spread them apart. “Guess what would please me now, Abigail.”
She bit her bottom lip.
“This, my naughty girl.” I blew on her clit. “It would please me to have you come on my tongue. Show me how much you love your reward. Don’t hold back.”
I licked her hard and deep, working my tongue into her. She lifted her h*ps from the bed with a small cry. I nibbled on her tender skin, alternating between tiny nips and rougher bites. With my fingers, I rubbed her clit, starting slow, but eventually getting faster. Her breaths came quicker and she lifted her h*ps against me.
“Oh, please,” she moaned as I sucked her cl*t into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it.
I lifted my head. “Louder, Abigail. I don’t have any neighbors.”
To help her along, I thrust two fingers inside her and twisted them. She cried out in response.
“Better,” I said, lifting her h*ps to my mouth once more and licking her again as my fingers worked themselves deeper.
Her lower body tensed, and I looked up to watch as she came. Her back arched. I switched so my fingers caressed her clit, while my tongue slipped inside. The sudden change of sensation sent her over the edge, and she came hard against me.
I set her thighs back onto the bed, watching her pant. I blew on her sensitive flesh, and she moaned as aftershocks shook her body.
“I trust you enjoyed your reward?” I asked, crawling up her body and releasing her arms.
“Yes, Master, thank you,” she said, eyes closed, still trying to calm her breathing.
I rubbed her arms, starting at her shoulders and making my way to her wrists. I leaned down to whisper in her ear, “You can thank me soundly next Wednesday.”
After my shower, I turned the light in my bedroom off and waited. I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for—Abby hadn’t mentioned the rose all night. Maybe Martha hadn’t said anything to her. I felt like a teenager working up the courage to ask a girl out on a first date.
Fucking send her a note, West. Do you like me? Check “yes” or “no.”
I listened for noises down the hall. Nothing.
What do you think she’s going to do? Bust into your bedroom and say, “Uh, excuse me. Did you mean anything by the rose you left?”
I sat up and punched the pillow.
Idiot.
What I needed was a nice, long jog. Or the piano. Either one. I got up and started pacing, walking from my bed to the window and back again. Apollo lifted his head from the floor, sighed, and jumped up to rest on the bed.
That’s right, even your dog thinks you’re crazy.
I knelt beside the bed and ruffled his fur. As I stood up, I heard the faint creaking of Abby’s door.
I held my breath. Counted.
She wasn’t coming to my room. Where was she headed?
The answer knocked the breath from my body.
The library.
Chapter Eighteen
She was headed toward the library. I was willing to bet anything. For four seconds, I contemplated staying in my room, but I couldn’t. I knew I had to join her. Just to see. To see if I would find her curled up asleep on a leather couch or standing in the poetry section with my John Boyle O’Reilly volume open in her hand.
If she found the poem, she would find the rose petal. I’d stuck it inside, marking the exact page, on Wednesday night.
Would I see confusion or longing in her eyes?
I stood by the door and took a deep breath.
Right before I left my room, I stuck a condom in my pocket. It never hurt to be prepared, I decided, remembering the last time Abby and I were in a library.
I walked down the stairs slowly. Taking my time and trying to decide what I’d do and say once I entered the library.
But that was silly, wasn’t it? What I did would depend upon what Abby was doing. So I decided that for once, I’d go with the flow. Fly by the seat of my pants.
Hope and pray I didn’t crash and burn.
My eyes went directly to the poetry section when I walked into the library.
And there she was.
She stood in front of a window, and I saw every curve of her body through the sheer material of her gown. She might as well have been cloaked in moonlight, for nothing was hidden from me—not the dusky hue of her nipples, nor the faint flush of her cheeks.
Not the wondrous amazement covering her face.
She knew.
My heart gave an unsteady thump.
I turned on the small lamp by a corner table. “Abigail.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Okay, she didn’t want me to know she knew.
“Decided poetry would knock you right out?” I asked and then, in the next minute, I decided to try something new. “Let’s play a game, shall we?
‘She walks in beauty, like the night.
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes . . .’”
I gave her a sly smile. “Name the poet.”
She tilted her head and crossed her arms. “Lord Byron. Your turn.
‘I sleep with thee, and wake with thee,
And yet thou are not there;
I fill my arms with thoughts of thee,
And press the common air.’”
She thought of me. She dreamed of me. She wanted me.
Though the hour was late, those thoughts made my body buzz as if I’d consumed a pot of coffee. Unfortunately, I had no idea who the poet was and, judging by her self-assured expression, Abby knew it. “I should have known better than to suggest such a contest with a librarian and English major,” I admitted. “I don’t know that one.”
“John Clare. One point for me.”
I closed my eyes and tried to think of a poem, any poem, and grinned when one came to mind. “Try this one,” I said.
“‘Let not thy divining heart
Forethink me any ill;
Destiny may take thy part,
And may thy fears fulfill.’”
Give me time, Abby. I want to try, but I’m so scared I’ll screw us up. I don’t know what I’d do if I screwed us up.