Page 53 of Always

“Very well,” I say, meeting her gaze. “We’ll proceed without breath play and without sex. Understand that those are firm boundaries.”

Her eyes spark with anticipation as she nods eagerly. “I understand perfectly, Mr. Black.”

Something about Emily’s eagerness gives me pause again, butI push my doubts aside. As long as she respects my rules, our scene should go smoothly.

I down the remainder of my Wild Turkey and set the glass on the bar. “Then please allow me to show you to my private suite in the back.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Black,” Emily replies, her voice smooth as satin.

We leave our stools, and I guide her through the club, my hand lightly resting on the small of her back. The music continues to fill the air, accompanied by the subtle hum of conversations and rustle of bodies moving in time with the beat.

When we reach the door to my private suite, I input the code to unlock it. The door slides open silently into a room designed for intimacy yet governed by discipline. The walls are lit by dim sconces that provide us with just enough illumination to see each other clearly without being overly revealing. The king-size bed is covered in silk, and an assortment of equipment lines the walls—whips, floggers, cuffs, ropes, all within easy reach.

Emily glances around curiously but doesn’t move from the spot where she stands next to me. I appreciate her restraint and the way she waits for my command. I gauge her reactions to see any hint of fear or anxiety in her eyes, but she keeps her gaze steady.

“Undress, and get on the bed while I prepare,” I command.

She nods, walks to the bed, peels off her lingerie, and sits down on the edge. I watch her for a moment longer before turning to my collection of equipment.

I choose carefully, selecting a set of cuffs, a blindfold, and a soft flogger. With these instruments in hand, I approach Emily on the bed where she sits waiting patiently.

“Comfortable?” I ask.

She smiles up at me, green eyes sparkling in the dim light. “Yes.”

“Good,” I reply. “Then we may begin.”

Emily’s submissive side is clear from the outset. She gives herself over willingly as I secure the cuffs around her wrists and ankles. She shudders when I slide the blindfold over her eyes, plunging her into darkness.

“Do you trust me?” I ask, my voice low.

“Yes,” she answers immediately, the single syllable holding an ocean of submission.

I take a moment to appreciate the sight before me, Emily Loring, bound and blindfolded on my bed. This scene may not involve sex or breath play, but it has an inherent eroticism all its own. I twirl the flogger in my hand, brushing the soft tendrils against her bare skin. She gasps at the contact and shivers again.

“Remember your safe word?”

“Freedom.”

“And you’ll use it if anything is too much?”

“Yes,” she says again, her voice shaking slightly.

The sound of that shaky affirmation fuels my dominance. I draw back the flogger and bring it down lightly on her bare stomach. She jolts from the impact, a soft gasp escaping her lips. I repeat the action again and again, varying the intensity and location each time. The sharp snaps of the flogger against her skin merge with the rhythm of my beating heart.

Emily responds beautifully, her body arching and writhing in equal parts pleasure and pain. Sounds of satisfaction interspersed with occasional gasps as the flogger hits a particularly sensitive spot.

I whip her, and I whip her, and I whip her—

Until the flogger—seemingly of its own accord—stops in midair.

What are you doing?

The words spear themselves into my brain as if put there from an outside source.

If Skye were on the receiving end of this flogging, my cockwould be straining for release.

With Emily? Despite her eagerness to please me? Her soft beauty? Her naked and willing body? Her perfect submission?

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