A thin pink ridge ran across his left ribs where Greville’s knife had cut, an atrocity on his beautiful, tan skin, and anger flared in her. Then she huffed a laugh, glancing down at her own scar. They were definitely a matched set now.
The people around the patio went completely silent as she crossed to him. She knelt at his feet. “I brought your tools as you asked, Master.”
“You did very, very well.” He took everything from her, setting it all on the ground off to one side. His stride was as she’d remembered in her dreams—unhurried, steady, and solid.
With an easy yank, he lifted her to her feet, then rested his hands on her shoulders, massaging lightly. “You will take everything I give you today,” he said, holding her gaze. His eyes were filled with a dark promise of pain and pleasure.
A thrill of anticipation went through her. He’d never pushed her in the dungeon, but now, now his eyes promised he would today. Oh God. “I will, Master.” It was a vow for both of them. I will.
He guided her under the chains, facing her toward the ocean and away from the audience. After restraining her arms over her head, he secured her legs apart, opening them widely, before tightening the chains to her arms. He circled her slowly, looking her over, his gaze like a caress on her bare skin. He stopped in front of her, cupping her chin in his palm. “I’ve dreamed of seeing you here, like this,” he said, his voice a little rough. “Open to me, wanting what I can give you.”
“I want that,” she whispered, every cell in her needing to please him. And she’d take whatever he asked so he’d be proud, would know how much she loved him. The need to give, to accept, filled her.
He kissed her, his tongue taking her, his lips demanding but so, so sweet. When he lifted his head, her breath came thick and hot. Obviously someone had turned the humidity up on the patio.
His hand glided over her shoulder, then her back, as he walked around her, and then lower: her bottom, her legs…
When he stroked up her inner thighs, she jerked.
“Be still, gatita.” Warm hands. Firm touch.
Just like her dreams. She realized her pussy was wet with her arousal.
“Very nice, Kimberly. I like this.” His fingers slid through her folds, making her shiver. The murmur of conversation came to her, then disappeared under the rush of heat as his fingers pressed her labia open and ran over her clit. She bit her lip as electricity sizzled through her.
He teased her clit and then eased a finger inside her and out.
Legs wide apart, she was exposed to anything he wanted to do, and…it was the most erotic thing she’d ever felt in her life, knowing she’d willingly given him the power.
He rose to his feet.
Oh no. Her thoughts stuttered at the memory of the tools. “Wait.”
The smack on her ass stung. “Who?”
“Master R. Master, what are you going to do?”
“Whatever I want to, sumisita mía.” His voice wasn’t mean, just that firmness that sent quivers into her stomach and more wetness between her legs.
He chuckled and pressed his body against hers from behind, his erection pushing on her buttocks, his muscular chest heating her back, his arms surrounding her. “Pretty gatita, are you ready?” His fingers tweaked her nipples, and his touch sent streaks of pain straight down to her clit.
He gathered her hair and moved it forward over her shoulder. Baring her back. She tensed, but he only ran his hands up and down, waking her skin, making her breasts sway.
He slapped her bottom lightly, a tiny sting, then harder, and more, until she wanted to move away from the burning. She arched away—uselessly.
“Sí, I like knowing you have to stay put to take what I give you,” he murmured and walked around to face her, his hand always on her, stroking from her back to her shoulder. Her bottom burned, and her skin was so sensitive that even the touch of the sea breeze felt like an icy kiss.
His lips brushed hers. Then he captured her mouth with hungry urgency. “I’ve missed kissing you. So…you will tell me if the pain becomes too much, no? What is your safe word?”
“Cramp.”
“Very good.” His grin flashed at her. “Which will make you scream first, gatita—the sting of the lash or the fury of your orgasm?”
Oh boy, how could he terrify her and turn her on at the same time? Sensuality darkened his face as he regarded her, not hiding the pleasure he got from playing with her. Not hiding his intention to exercise his power as her master.
I can’t believe I’m here. Doing this…wanting this. Yet the more she surrendered, the more she felt a part of him.
He knew. He touched her cheek, his gaze softening.
She stared at him helplessly, bound with more than physical restraints.
The flogger he used next didn’t hurt. Like a million elves drumming on her skin, the strands of the flogger moved from her back to her front.
She stared at him, almost mesmerized. So big, shoulders broad, his chest and arm muscles rippled with each movement. His control was absolute, his focus totally on her and the flogger as if it connected them like an umbilical cord.
He lightened the strokes over her stomach and thighs, even lighter over her breasts, making them swell and throb. The very lightest flick between her legs sent her up onto her toes with surprise, followed by a hot rush of pleasure.
He saw, and a smile softened his stern features. As he circled her, her skin grew more sensitive, started to burn. And somehow her pussy throbbed as if it had swollen too much.
A pause. His hands stroked her body, soothing the ache. He moved in front of her and studied her for a silent moment. Then the corners of his eyes crinkled. “You are very beautiful, all aroused and ready for the bite of the lash.” His palms covered her breasts, and he watched her intently as he pinched her nipples lightly, then harder, rolling the peaks between his fingers.
She closed her eyes as pleasure washed through her.
“Look at me.”
She forced her eyes open, stiffening as his hand moved to her pussy, sliding through her folds. The streak of sharp pleasure was almost painful, unexpected, and she made a protesting sound.
“Shhh, gatita. You want this—there is no shame in it, in being a woman. In letting your master rouse your body.” He smiled, fingers pushing intimately inside her, then out and over her clit. Over and in, repeating until her hips pressed forward into each movement.
Oh God, I need more. She hadn’t dreamed she could get so hot, so needy.
Then he smiled. “Very good. You’re ready.” His gaze was level, direct, utterly in control and confident.
And she nodded. She could handle pain if he was in charge.
He kissed her slowly and then ravenously. “Sumisita mía,” he said, tipping her chin up. “After this, I intend to take you.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Hard.”
Her vagina clenched. As her gaze dropped to his groin, delight rose inside her. “As Master wishes.”
“Yes, my gatita’s submission—and body—makes me needy.” He touched his nose to hers, took in her breath. “I’ve missed taking you every morning before breakfast.”
She closed her eyes and breathed, “Me too.” Waking alone, wanting him so much she’d slept with an extra pillow to have something to hold.
He pressed another kiss to her lips, then walked away. A second later, she heard the crack of a whip.
Panic rolled over her, drowning her in memories. Slicing pain after pain, screaming. She pulled frantically at the chains, her breathing a tropical storm turning into a hurricane.
“Kimberly.” His voice cut through the winds. “You will take this for me.”
Silence grew around her, the fears held at bay with just his voice…and her need to please him. Master R, not Greville. Master R would stop if she needed him to…and so she could go on. “Yes, Master. I will.”
The first touch of the whip was a flicker: here, there, up, and down. A little sting, the rhythm almost soothing. A brush over her skin like a rough kiss. More. She’d never watched whipping scenes. Who knew it could be so…sensuous?
After a while, he walked forward to rub her back. Played with her breasts, sending new sparks of arousal flickering through her body. His erection pressed into her from behind, and he ground it against her bottom, making her feel the lingering burn from her spanking. His fist closed in her hair, tugging her head to the side. His voice was low and ruthless, sending a thrill through her. “Now, I’m going to push you, Kimberly. And you will take it—for me.”
He obviously felt her shiver; his laugh was guttural. Terrifying. Hot. He moved away, but she could hear him. “That’s my good girl.”
A crack, a tiny whoosh, then the sting, pain blooming beneath her skin. She gasped, a little shocked. That hurt. He kept on, over and over, like the bite of flame from the fireplay, the whip was a flash of pain that almost seemed to light her up inside.
Down her ass, a few touches on her thighs that zapped straight to her clit until—oh, God, she was shaking with the need to come.
The intensity increased. More. Sharper. She sucked in her breath to keep from yelling. He eased off to the sweet brushing strokes. Harder again. Stinging, shocking, burning…pain.
Nothing moved, but she fell backward, tumbling into the ocean, surrounded by softness. Her eyes half-focused on the tide rolling in on the white shore, and she realized his strokes were timed to the ocean waves. The pain hit and rolled over her, flowing back out before the next one. So wonderful yet so arousing. The whip strokes slowly moved down her ass, her thighs, and back up.