Page 20 of Hidden Heart

“Okay. Time’s up…what color?”

“Red?” she said, hopefully.

“Oh, I’m sorry. No. It’s white. Remember, I held off on the red because they gripped too tightly.”

She cursed. That was exactly what he’d told her.

“That’s okay. I was hoping to use my crop anyway. It’s a win-win.”

“For who?” she pouted.

“Both of us. You’re doing a great job.” He kissed her neck again before leaving her to get the riding crop. She liked this side of him, the playful Royce. Although, she hadn’t yet found a side of him she didn’t like.

“I’m not sure I can handle a crop.” She pumped her fisted hands. Emotions ran through her in bundles, all tangled together.

“You’ll do fine. You remember the word I gave you to say if you need me to stop?”

“Yes.” She nodded and relaxed her fists.

“Good. Now grip the stool with your hands and arch your back so your chest is pushed out… That’s it. Good girl.” He brushed her breasts with the crop, allowing the leather to caress her.

He applied small slaps, spreading them evenly. She made a small noise as he intensified the impact. Her breasts bounced, and the lone clothespin jostled, twisting her sensitive skin.

The leather flicked at her nipples, and she arched her back more. The pinching from the pin, the sharp slaps of the leather, and the caresses between all melded together. Her breath quickened; not from fear, but excitement. A particularly hard slap landed on her nipple, and she cried out, but didn’t try to avoid his lashes. She tilted her head back and let him continue his game, enjoying the warmth covering her skin from the spanking.

The clothespin became his primary target, and he flicked it with the crop. “Ready?” Before she could form an answer, he slapped the pin from her skin.

She let out a yelp but focused on her breathing. A smile tugged at her lips. She’d made it through.

The clunk of the crop landing on the table echoed in the other otherwise silent room.

Royce wrapped his arms around her, kissing her neck and cheeks. He stroked her body, the softness of his fingers easing some of the tension from her muscles.

Hungry for him, she kissed back as though in a fever. He dragged his lips away from her mid kiss.

“I want to describe your breasts to you.” He released her and stepped back.

Her hands remained gripping the stool. Her cheeks flushed. Although the blindfold kept her in the dark, his stare poured heat over her skin.

“The clothespins left small red marks behind. The riding crop left your breasts a rosy pink. They’re blushing for me, almost as much as your face.” His voice was light.

Wanting to see him, she moved her hands toward her eyes.

“Don’t remove the blindfold. I’ll remove it when I’m ready.”

She dropped her hands into her lap, weaving her fingers together to keep herself still.

“Why are you blushing? Are you embarrassed about what we did?” He touched her again, caressing her thighs.

“No,” she answered honestly.

“Did you hate it?” His voice held a hesitation she hadn’t noticed before. Normally, everything he said was with confidence.

“No.” She shook her head.Hate it?If her thighs became any wetter from her arousal, she’d slip off the stool.

“Did you enjoy it?” he continued.

Her blush deepened. She would never understand his need to analyze everything. “Yes,” she breathed.

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