Author: Roni LorenGrant turned back around, a small box in his hand. He gave her a wry smile as his gaze drifted over her body. “I see you like my collection.”
Her brows knitted. Did she? Picking apart the difference between fright and anticipation was growing murkier and murkier.
“Stop trying to analyze your response, sweet Charlotte. I can hear your cogs grinding from here. That’s not going to do you any good.” He stepped closer and pulled something out of the box. “Maybe this will help you get out of your head.”
She glanced down to see a flesh-colored dildo in his palm. The chains rattled again, her heart now pounding louder than the rock music filtering through the barn.
He tossed the empty box to the side and then tapped her inner thigh with his free hand. “Spread your legs wider.”
She did, her body acting before her mind caught up. She flinched when he dragged the cool silicone along her folds, but her muscles trembled in anticipation. He tucked a finger inside her, readying her, then moved his hand away and inserted the dildo. She groaned, the fit tight, the sensation intense. Her fingers flexed against the ropes above as he slid it out a bit, then back in, nudging it deeper. God, was he going to be this slow and methodical about everything? He was going to drive her mad.
“Very nice, Charlotte. Now squeeze your thighs together. You’re not allowed to let it slip out.”
She shifted her legs back into position, her body clasping the invasion. Grant removed something from his pocket and pressed a button. Charli’s body arched as the dildo hummed to life, vibrating inside her. “Oh…”
Her face tilted toward the ceiling as sensation radiated outward, crawling over her nerve endings.
“That’s right, darlin’. Give over to it.” Grant gave a little tug on the chain between her breasts and she jerked, the combination of pain and pleasure almost sending her right over into orgasm. She yanked at her bindings, desperate for that release, for that one little extra touch that would trigger it. But he didn’t give it to her.
Grant brushed her cheek, his expression surprisingly tender. “You don’t like your body. You think you’re too tall, not soft and curvy enough.” He stepped back toward his cabinet and selected a riding crop. He faced her, rolling the shaft of the crop between his fingers. “You know what I see?”
She shook her head, fighting to stay focused despite the throbbing need overtaking her body. “No, sir.”
“I see an athlete, a woman who can endure more than most, a woman who I don’t have to worry about crushing when she’s beneath me.” He walked forward and circled the tip of the crop around her navel. “A woman I can play rough with.”
He snapped the crop against her mound, hitting right above her clit, and her control nearly shattered. She moaned and canted her hips forward. “Oh, God.”
He smiled and walked around the bed, disappearing from view. But she could sense when he stopped behind her, feel his stare. “I see a woman who isn’t afraid to bungee jump off a bridge or go after what she wants. A girl who likes to play at the edge.”
Grant traced the tip of the crop down her spine, sliding it over her sweat-dampened skin. “And that, sweet Charlotte, is the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
She heard the riding crop slice through the air before it landed with a sharp smack against her ass. She reared up with a soft moan, the sensation foreign but somehow exactly what she craved—painful and sweet all at once. The vibrator shifted inside her and she clamped her thighs tight again, making sure not to let it slide out.
Grant hit her again on the back of her thigh, then on the other cheek. She writhed against the sting, somehow aching for more.
“That’s right, darlin’. Look how perfectly you respond. Let go and I’ll take you under.”
He increased the speed, landing blow after blow along her ass, her thighs, her back and shoulders. Smack. Smack. Smack. The rhythm of his swats matched the driving beat of the music, sending her senses into a tumble. Adrenaline flooded her system and her brain began to buzz, a soft, pleasant hum she could get lost in. She sagged against the bindings, sweat glazing her skin and her body pulsing with need. Her sex throbbed around the vibrator, silently begging for the real thing.
Her fingers curled, her palms opening and closing, searching for a hold on something as everything inside her seemed to be breaking open. Her breath rasped out of her. “Grant, sir, please…”
The crop stilled, but the vibrating inside intensified as Grant apparently dialed up the strength. A groan rumbled out of her, and his boots came back into view. She closed her eyes, needing every ounce of focus to fight off her release. Her whole body began to tremble.
The smooth leather touched her folds. “Come for me, Charlotte.”
Grant tapped the crop against her sex with a quick, smarting snap, and all semblance of her control fragmented into a million flecks of sensation. She screamed, her voice echoing through the cavernous space, as her orgasm flooded every nerve ending.
Grant continued to tap her with the crop, though with a softer hand, as her release rolled through her. Then, when she thought every ounce of energy had been wrung from her, he pulled off the nipple clamps, sending fiery pain spiraling in with the bliss. Another orgasm chased the first, short and intense. And she could do nothing but let it have her. The blinding sensations had stolen any control she had left over her own response. She was merely a blissed-out passenger on Grant’s train.
“That’s it, my girl,” Grant soothed. “Let it take you down.”
When her body finally quieted and the vibrator had been turned off, she melted against the bindings, the rope the only thing keeping her upright. Cool fingers touched the abraded skin at her wrists, and the tension gave way. Grant lowered her arms to her sides, rubbing the numbness from them, and then slowly eased the vibrator out of her. When he stepped back, she managed to raise her head and found him staring at her with the look of a man starved.
The sight stole her breath. Even though she knew she had to be a sight with streaked makeup and sweaty skin, she felt…beautiful.
He leaned forward and swiped moisture from her cheeks with his thumbs. “Are those good tears or bad ones, freckles?”
Confused, she reached up, touched her face. Had she been crying?