“Thank you, my lord!”
He caressed the curve of one cheek. The flesh was beginning to warm.
“Had enough?” he asked.
“Enough? I thought we had just begun?”
“You desire more?”
“Well…yes.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes! My old governess could deal a heftier spanking.”
Alastair could hardly believe his ears. Had she just insulted him?
She had. He could not allow himself to be outdone by any member of the opposite sex.
Fisting his hand tighter about the handle, he whacked the crop against her with a proper show of force. When she cried out loudly, he feared he had been too harsh.
“Thank you, my lord.”
Her voice sounded almost of a purr. He walloped the other cheek with equal vigor.
“Ah! Thank you, my lord.”
Despite the dim lighting, he could see the blush across her arse. He adjusted the stiffness at his crotch.
“Do you recall your safety word?” he inquired.
“Pearls.”
“Do not hesitate to speak it.”
“I will not. Pray, continue.”
Continue? She wanted more? His head began to swim, but he supplied her with several more lashes. One blow landed heavily, eliciting a wail. She drew in a haggard breath.
“Thank you, my lord!”
And then he caught it. The scent of her arousal.
The blood throbbed in his veins. He looked more closely at her thighs and saw the glisten of moisture. Damnation. The spanking had made her wet.