Page 34 of T is for…

He gripped her ass as the last word faded, and she pressed into him, her bare breasts against his chest, though the leather of his vest kept him from feeling the hard points of her nipples.

“And this is why topping from the bottom is dangerous. Subs are all uncontrolled sadists.”

“Wouldn’t it be masochists, since the ones we want to hurt are ourselves?”

“Partially true, but I’ve also seen some sub-on-sub scenes that were genuinely terrifying.”

He loved the feel of her laughing in his arms. He’d never had a scene that flowed like this, from kink to conversation and back again.

“Your ass is done for now. Need to give this pretty girl time to rest.” He palmed her butt and gave it a little jiggle.

“Did you just refer to my ass as a pretty girl?”

“Yep. And it’s attached to more very pretty things.”

Nathan gripped her waist and she flinched.

Shit. Nathan jerked his hands up and to the sides, palms forward. “What just happened? Where are you hurt?”

Tara didn’t answer, instead turning her face into his neck.

Nathan gathered her hair in his hand and yanked her head up, pulling until she was seated upright on his knees, her hands resting gently on her upper thighs, elbows tucked into her sides, hiding the place he’d just touched.

“Tara,” he barked the word, made it a warning.

“It’s not…I’m not hurt.”

“You flinched.”

Her face twisted with a grimace, but she didn’t say anything else.

“Hands together behind your neck, elbows back.” He released her hair as she obeyed, making space for her hands to slide under her hair, her fingers laced together at her nape.

Given how tight she’d strapped the band around her breasts, maybe it was the waist strap that was bothering her, and he’d touched a sore spot.

He unbuckled the belt, letting it fall around her hips and thighs.

There were no angry red indents here, and when he traced the faint mark the belt had left, she didn’t react. He slid his hand down to her hip, holding her as he leaned to the side, checking for bruises or tender spots.

This time, she didn’t flinch, but she did suck in air and hold her breath. He immediately lifted his hand. He’d barely touched her, so he expected to see an angry bruise where his fingers had been. An angry bruise he’d somehow missed noticing, which wasn’t like him.

There was no mark, only soft, smooth skin.

“Tara, I’m hurting you, but I don’t know how. Tell me,” he demanded.

“You’re not hurting me.”

“Don’t lie to me, Tara. That’s a hard limit for me, especially when it comes to pain.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Are you tender here or…” He raised his brows. “Are you ticklish?”

“No, it’s not that.” She stared at his chest, lines bracketing her mouth in an expression that was almost a grimace.

“Talk,” he demanded, voice lower than it had been, as frustration and a desperate need to make sure he wasn’t hurting her gripped him low in the gut.

“Idon’tlikeitwhenpeopletouchmyfat.”

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