Because You Are Mine (Because You Are Mine #1)(39)
Author: Beth Kery

“Of pain?” she asked, her voice shaking from a potent brew of anxiety and anticipation as she watched him walk over to the coffee table. Was he getting that scary-looking crop?

He was coming toward her again, but she didn’t see the crop. Her heart knocked on her stretched rib cage like it was asking to get out when she saw the familiar little white jar. He unscrewed it and dipped a thick forefinger into the cream.

“I told you before that I would prefer if you didn’t fear me,” he said.

She gasped loudly, shuddering when he immediately plunged his finger between her labia and began to coat her clit with the emollient that she knew would soon make her tingle and burn . . . and want.

She bit her lip to prevent from crying out and noticed he watched her with a tight focus.

“But I want to emphasize, this is a punishment nevertheless,” he stated firmly.

“I want to emphasize that while I give you permission to punish me,” she said before air puffed out of her throat as his finger rubbed the cream with bull’s-eye accuracy. “I’ll still go jogging—or do anything else I damn well please—without asking for your permission.”

He dropped his hand and walked away. She stifled a cry of deprivation. He turned and came toward her again, now carrying the crop. She couldn’t take her eyes off the wicked-looking device gripped in his large, masculine-looking hand. It looked as if it would hurt more than the paddle or Ian’s hand.

“Spread your thighs . . . if you damn well please,” he added softly.

She blinked at his words, her gaze zooming up incredulously to meet his stare. Heat rushed through her sex when she saw the glimmer of amusement and the heat of arousal in his eyes . . . when she absorbed the edge of a dare to his tone.

If she agreed to what he’d demanded, it would be because she wanted it. And her impulsive statement of defiance just now was proof of that. Frustration went through her when she recognized how he’d tricked her into compliance and revealed her own desire in one fell swoop.

She widened her stance, glaring at him all the while.

“Your anger tautens your muscles as greatly as the position. It doesn’t displease me, strangely enough,” he murmured, the tilt of his mouth indicating he was laughing silently, not only at her but at himself. He lifted the crop, and all of her irritation was crowded out by stark anticipation. Wasn’t he going to slap her bottom with it, like he had with the paddle? Her abdomen muscles jumped in excitement when he ran the leather slapper over her belly. An erotic sensation swooped through her sex when he rubbed it sensually over her hip. He lifted the crop.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

She gasped, feeling the sting of the slapper lingering on her hip. It quickly faded to a tingling sensation of heat.

“Too much?” he murmured, his gaze running over her face and then her breasts. He smoothed the leather across her ribs over the globe of her right breast. She moaned uncontrollably when he pressed the slapper against her nipple and rubbed. “Your pretty nipples are telling me all is well.” He lifted the slapper and popped the side of her breast, then the bottom curve, and then the puckered nipple, his actions quick, firm, and concise.

Something ignited inside her. Liquid heat rushed between her thighs, the strength of her reaction shocking her nearly as much as the fact that he’d just spanked her breast. Her eyes clamped tight as shame struck her. What sort of a deviant was she, to have such an overwhelming reaction to something so sick?

“Francesca?”

She opened her eyes at the sound of his taut tone.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she told him, her mouth quivering uncontrollably. The clit stimulant seemed to be doing its job with even more vigor than when Ian had paddled her, making her clit sizzle with excitement.

“Bad or good?” he demanded roughly.

“I . . . bad,” she whispered, shame and arousal vying for control of her mind and body. His expression stiffened. “And good. So good.”

“Damn it,” he muttered, his eyes blazing, although she had the distinct impression he liked her answer instead of being angered by it. He brought down the crop again, popping the underside of her other breast, making the globe jiggle slightly. She bit her lip, but her moan vibrated in her throat. “I’m going to turn your ass red for that, you little . . .”

She never learned what sort of a “little” she was, because he popped a nipple again and again, his actions gentle, but firm enough to cause a burning sting that made Francesca grit her teeth and clench her eyes shut. Without thinking, she thrust her breasts forward.

“That’s right, present yourself to me,” she heard him mutter as he popped the underside and side of her breast several times. “Now . . . tell me what you damn well please at this moment?” he murmured, sliding the crop sensually across both of her breasts. Her eyes still clamped shut, she was exquisitely attuned to the sensation. God, her clit was screaming for attention between her thighs.

“Francesca?” he asked sharply.

Oh, no. He wasn’t going to make her say it. He slid the leather slapper across a nipple and made a twitching movement, stimulating her all the way to her core. She gasped.

“It would please me if you . . .”

He twitched the slapper on her nipple again, and she trembled.

“Just say it. There’s no shame in it,” he said, his voice sounding hard and soft at once.

Her jaw tightened, torn between speaking the truth and swallowing it. He massaged her nipple briskly with the leather.

“It would please me if you slapped me . . . between my thighs.”

She opened her eyes warily when he lifted the nipple and didn’t speak. “What?” she asked after a moment, unable to read his rigid expression.

He shook his head slowly, and she realized he was stunned. His nostrils flared, and he suddenly looked fierce. Her heart sank. It suddenly struck her that he hadn’t been expecting her to say that.

“I . . . well, anywhere . . . I . . . I’m sorry. Ian?” she asked, bewildered by his reaction, not sure what she was supposed to say.

“Don’t ever apologize for being beautiful,” he said, before he stepped forward and placed his hand along the side of her jaw. He seized her mouth with his own, pillaging it with his shaping, firm lips and plunging tongue. His taste—his forceful possession—had just started to make her intoxicated, when he lifted his head. “You tempt me beyond reason.” Francesca panted against his lips. His tone had sounded like an accusation, but it began to dawn on her that in this situation, at least, it definitely indicated he was pleased.