Page 47 of Elevating Eve

Pulling the plug out just enough to make her gasp, he let go, letting it settle back into place. “Oh, you sweet girl,” he said, bending to plant a soft kiss on her temple. “We’re going to have so much fun together. Just remember your promise.”

Jonathan backed away, finally shedding his jacket and draping it over the arm of the couch. His shirt followed close behind, and then he shed his shoes and socks, tossing them into a corner. Leaving his slacks on for now, he padded back over to the bed, his feet sinking into the plush rug.

Retrieving the final item he’d pulled from his bag, he wrapped his hand around the familiar, smooth handle. The paddle had seen so much use over the years that parts of the dark stain had rubbed away, revealing the blond wood beneath.

This paddle never entered the regular circulation of tools in the dungeon back home. It was the very first spanking implement he’d bought, older than the Manor itself. He and his college roommates—Leo, Aiden, and Mason—had long since waded into the shallow waters of BDSM, experimenting as best they could with belts and hands and flimsy, toy handcuffs when they could find a willing partner.

Jonathan was the first of them to dive into the deep end.

He swished the thick, rectangular paddle through the air once, refamiliarizing himself with its weight. Air whooshed through the five round holes spaced evenly down the center.

Even after all these years, the paddle remained his favorite instrument of punishment. Nothing else felt as perfect in his hand.

“I want you to count for me,” he said as he moved into position.

“Yes, Sir.”

Raising the paddle high above her, he brought it down across the center of her ass, only hard enough to sting. Eve’s eyes screwed shut and her hands balled into fists, but she didn’t make a sound. After a few seconds, she whispered, “One.”

“Good girl.” He brought the paddle down on her ass again, a little harder this time.

Air hissed out of her like a leaking tire. “Two.”

They made it all the way to ten before he decided she’d had enough of a warmup. Her ass was a uniform rosy pink, and when he brushed his hand over the skin, it was warm to the touch.

Closing his eyes, Jonathan let all the pain and anger and fear and frustration of the last week course through him. He made himself breathe through the chaos of emotions, funneling it all toward the one thing that could calm them.

Eve.

She guided him through the worst storm of his life and brought him out mostly whole on the other side.

Here she was, doing it all over again. Offering her body and her submission to him—a safe place to weather another storm.

He would get through this. He could get through anything so long as he didn’t lose her too.

Opening his eyes, he brought down the paddle on the downward curve of her ass, using enough force this time that she couldn’t hold in a startled scream.

Eve struggled to catch her breath for several seconds, her face buried in the quilt to hide her tears. When at last her shoulders moved up and down with a near-steady rhythm, she gave him a muffled, “Eleven.”

Before she could brace herself, he delivered the next stroke to the same exact place.

Expecting it this time, she used the quilt to dull the sound of her scream, forcing out, “Twelve,” long before he expected it. Her voice shook with the effort.

Jonathan cupped a hand under her chin, turning her face toward him. “Don’t hide from me,” he told her, taking in her splotchy skin and red, puffy eyes. His breath caught in his throat at the sight. She was just so fucking perfect.

Some women cried demurely. Some prettily. Eve cried with her entire fucking body, and it was such a beautiful thing to witness. He wanted to see every tear, hear every gasp and scream and ragged breath. He wanted her to give him everything.

Her head jerked when he brought down the paddle again, but she stopped herself at the last second, settling back into the position he’drequested. He got to watch her face as the pain exploded through her—got to see each and every minute change as she settled into it.

“Thirteen.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, gripping his cock through his slacks. He squeezed hard enough for it to hurt, desperate to take the worst of the edge off. Combined with the riot of emotions still coursing through him, he found it nearly impossible to focus on anything but his desire to bury his cock inside of her.

You’re a fucking professional, damnit,he bellowed in his mind.Get a fucking grip.

The worst of it faded, leaving behind a dull throb of pleasure that no longer threatened to overwhelm him. “It’s time to accelerate things,” he told her, moving back in position at the side of the bed. “As long as you still want to continue.”

“I do. Veritas.”

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