Page 43 of Sweet Animosity

The smooth wood of the riding crop shaft caressed my lower lip as he slid it back and forth. His voice was like the rumble of gravel as he rasped against my ear, “Trust me, beautiful. You won’t like what happens if you make me ask you again.”

Tears clouded my vision even as my thighs clenched around the wooden saddle.

How was it possible that I was both turned on by the dark, masculine energy that radiated off him, while also being terrified of the barely leashed primal vibe he was giving off?

With a soft cry, I opened my lips.

He pushed the riding crop shaft between them. “Good girl.”

The tang of the wood varnish tickled my tongue as I instinctively ran it along the shaft.

Var pushed it in further until it pressed against the corners of my mouth. “A bit is how the rider shows her, he is in control now. He determines where she turns and when she stops. He is her master.”

My eyes squeezed shut as I ground my pussy against the pommel of the saddle to ease the building ache.

Var skimmed his lips along the column of my neck, just behind my ear. “Do you understand, Vivian?”

I licked my lips again before responding. I tried to talk around the riding crop bit but could only manage a weak, “Uh huh.”

His free hand stroked my hair. “Good girl.”

The moment he removed the riding crop from my mouth and stepped away from the saddle, I took a deep breath as my shoulders sagged with relief.

Var crossed the room and picked up his shirt. After pulling it over his head, he buttoned the remaining buttons before rolling his sleeves back down. Gesturing with his head, he said, “There is a private bathroom behind that door. Go freshen up and meet me in the other office.”

For the second time in three days, I stared into the mirror and a stranger looked back.

My dark hair was a halo of tangled curls around my head. My cheeks were bright and flushed as my eyes glowed from unshed tears.

I lightly touched the faint teeth marks on my breast before turning to inspect my ass. The cheeks still bore a faint blush from his spanking, but there were no handprints.

Why did I feel a moment’s disappointment at that?

Shaking off the feeling, I used a linen hand towel to wipe at the smeared eyeliner under my eyes before using it between my legs. I stared at the glistening come on the cream linen.

It was odd to realize that I’d never had a man’s come inside of me before. There was something intensely intimate about that. Var’s come was inside of me. The marks of our fucking were not only on my skin, but inside of me. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

How sex with previous boyfriends always ended the moment they came and disposed of the condom. There was no lingering impact. No mark. Nothing shared really. No overwhelming feeling that I was leaving the moment with a piece of them with me.

Everything about this experience was wrong.

It was too intense, too intimate, too dangerous, too violent.

This wasn’t how a man and woman who barely knew one another were supposed to behave.

I pulled my dress over my head and rummaged in my makeup bag.

After brushing my hair and fixing my makeup as best I could, I sprayed on a little body armor from my travel-size Chanel No. 5, which always made me feel polished and in control, and left the bathroom.

As my hand encircled the office doorknob, I half expected it to still be locked. It swung open with ease. I crossed the narrow antechamber and moved into what must be Var’s public office.

One office for the legitimate side of Four Monks.

The other for the super-secret criminal mafia stuff, I supposed.

Var was sitting at his desk, looking every inch like a Bond villain.

All my Mona Lisa paintings were gone.

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