sed my eyes and shook my head, almost frantically. He wanted me to . . . I couldn’t. Not with him right there, watching.
He kissed the shell of my ear. “Aww, don’t be shy now, angel. You’re telling me in all those nights you’ve touched yourself, you haven’t taken a taste?”
My cheeks went fever hot. Of course I had. And I’d tasted myself on his lips after he’d gone down on me that first night. But somehow, admitting this pressed that shame button inside me, giving me that sick feeling in my stomach.
And that pissed me the hell off. Why? Why couldn’t I push past that part of myself that wanted to label everything dirty and wrong and sinful? Fighting past that instinctual response, I bent my head and sucked his fingers into my mouth, even as the flush of embarrassment burned its way over my chest, and cleaned every bit of them.
He groaned against my ear and pressed his hips harder against my backside, his erection like steel against my softness. He pulled his fingers from my mouth with a pop. “Good girl. Now I won’t have to flog you as hard.”
My eyes snapped open at that. “Flog?”
He ran a hand along my hair in a deceptively gentle gesture. “Yes, angel. Still want to see this part of me?”
I bit my lip. Did I? My body was giving a big Hell, yes! But anxiety was clawing at me. Would it hurt? Would I hate it? God, what if I liked it? That possibility seemed even more disturbing. But I’d fallen too far down the rabbit hole to back off now. “Why do you have to hit me?”
He ran a finger along the notches of my spine, slowly, reverently. “Because it turns me on.”
No other explanation. In this world of his, that was enough. I swallowed hard.
He pinched my hip and I gasped. “And maybe it’ll turn you on, too. Or not. Only one way to find out.”
Before I could even process the dart of pain from the pinch, I heard him walk away again. So this was it. He was going to flog me—whatever that meant. I wasn’t even sure. God, why hadn’t I googled this stuff before goading him into showing me?
Because you were too afraid to look, my mind whispered.
Something soft and a little ticklish brushed over my shoulders. I glanced to the side just in time to see the strips of leather slide over my skin. Goose bumps followed in its wake. “What is that?”
Foster trailed the tails along my shoulder blades, the touch oh-so soft. “It’s a flogger, angel. Strips of elk hide. Worried?”
“Yes.”
He chuckled. “Good, that will make it better.”
Before I could ask another question, delay him further, I heard the swoosh of the flogger cut through the air. The tails of it striped right across my back on the diagonal. I reared up and cried out in surprise, the chains of my cuffs clinking. But instead of the sharp stinging sensation I’d been bracing for, the blow hit like a heavy thud against my back—impactful and breath stealing, but not painful.
I sucked in air, gasping for it, but another hit came down in the opposite direction. The tails wrapped around my hip a bit, leaving little stings where the end of the leather strips landed. And my back went warm and tingly. Foster paused. “Still with me?”
My fists flexed, and I swayed a bit in the cuffs, but the tingling sensation was oddly pleasant—almost calming. “Yes, sir.”
“Beautiful,” he said, his pleased tone doing more to me than it should. “You should see how pretty your skin is as it heats.”
I squirmed a bit, trying to lift my feet, a restlessness growing in me, but the bar restricted my movement too much. I needed . . . I don’t know, something.
“Easy, angel,” he said softly. “I’ll give you more, but if you keep trying to move, you’re going to hurt yourself.”
More? He thought I was asking for more? But even as I thought the question, some part of me knew he was right. My body was humming for more contact, for that rush of tingling that seemed to spread from my back along all my nerve endings.
And I didn’t have to wait long for it. Foster landed blows along my ass this time and on the backs of my thighs. And there was no pause this time. As if he were making figure eights in the air, he rained the leather down on me in a very precise but increasingly intense pattern. The soft thudding from the first few blows morphed into something edgier and more intense. Pain . . . but pain mixed with this electric feeling that had my legs quivering, and my moans turning into some sound I didn’t recognize—desperate, wanton need.
Sweat dripped down my neck, sliding down between my breasts. I was acutely aware of every sensation. The smack of the flogger, the sound of my ragged breathing, the scent of arousal, and Foster’s presence behind me. Even without seeing him, I could feel him there—his intensity a palpable thing. He was in some other zone, and I was quickly tumbling into it with him. Another hit, and my thoughts went hazy. I pressed my damp forehead against the door. “Please, please, please . . .”
I didn’t know if I spoke the words aloud or not, but no other hit came. The flogger clattered against the wood floor. Vaguely, I was aware of the sound of a zipper, rushed movements. Then my ankles were slipping free of the restraints.
Foster adjusted something above me, and then he was turning me, my hands still cuffed but the chains going with me. When I’d made the one-eighty, I managed to open my eyes. Foster’s blue-eyed gaze collided with mine—the ferocity making my stomach flip.
I opened my mouth to say something, though I wasn’t sure what, but he cut me off instantly with a kiss—his tongue and lips clashing with mine as he wrapped a hand behind each knee and lifted me off my feet. My back hit the door, and he pushed deep inside me, opening me wide and wrapping my legs around his hips. I gasped into the kiss, the feel of him inside me mixing in with the snap of pain from my sensitive back hitting the wood. My head spun, and my sex clenched around him. Everything inside me hummed like live wire, waiting for one more spark of pleasure to burn me to ashes.
Foster’s fingers dug into the backs of my thighs, and he thrust into me harder than he’d ever done before. The door rattled behind me, and my fingers clawed for him, but my hands were still captured above me. The rock of his hips pushed him along my clit with every forward motion, driving me higher and higher until I was writhing against the door like some inhuman thing. I broke from the kiss for air. “Foster.”