Page 49 of T is for…

Nathan’s head was down, a faint line between his brows. He looked tall and strong in the candlelight, the muted shine of the leather causing faint highlights along the swells of his pectoral muscles.

Neither of them was fully naked, though the straps and thin piece of latex over her pussy weren’t much coverage. She wanted him naked. Want to feel his big, warm body against her, skin to skin.

But his expression made her stomach clench with anxiety.

He looked upset, or maybe disappointed. He looked like he was going to walk away.

“Nathan.”

Only his head turned, coming up just enough so he met her gaze.

“Nathan, please. Don’t go.”

The frown disappeared, his eyes soft. “I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

He closed the distance between them, and she got what she wanted, his body flush to hers, leather warm against her bare skin. His arm around her back pressed her bound breasts to his chest. The tight bands of tape squeezed as he held their bodies together.

She was bound and helpless…by choice.

Her body his plaything to mold and torment…because she gave him that power.

With his forearm still pressing against her back, Nathan tangled a hand in her hair, tipping her face up.

His lips sealed against hers. The kiss was leisurely, his parted lips barely moving as his tongue touched the seam of her mouth, then ventured in when she opened submissively under him.

The hand in her hair tightened, and she sucked in air as pain lit up her scalp. Just another sensation to go with the throbbing in her abused, trapped breasts, the fainter heat in her ass.

Those sensations were pale in comparison to her vibrant, desperate arousal. She could feel her heartbeat in her sex. Each beat echoed by a pulse of need in her swollen, wet flesh.

Tara was trapped and achy, unable to even move her head as he continued the soft kiss so at odds with the way he held her and what he’d done to her breasts.

But the best of all this was the kiss. He tasted…right.

Nathan finally lifted his lips from hers. Their gazes met for only a moment before he yanked, forcing her head farther back until she felt the stretch along the front of her neck. She stared up at her bound wrists as he scraped his teeth along her throat.

Finally he placed a gentle kiss on each breast before testing the temperature of her flesh with the back of his hand.

Taking several steps back, he raised the flogger.

The first strike kissed the top of her left breast on a downstroke. A second later, a matching blow slapped against the top of her right breast.

The flogger was too soft for a sting, and instead hit with a soft thud that was almost a tap.

For one wild moment, she thought about begging him for more. Asking him to strike her breasts harder.

She was at the point in the scene where she would agree to anything. It was a dangerous place to be, but she was safe with him. Her dominant emotion was a keening need and desperate arousal. A need to be touched and used. A desperation to feel her body stretched around his cock—any hole.

But the part of her that was still rational and knew that she was in a compromised headspace trusted Nathan the way she’d never trusted a partner before.

She could beg him to mark her, hurt her, and he wouldn’t take it too far.

She could beg him to degrade and abuse her, but he wouldn’t, because he’d know it would leave too-deep emotional scars.

Nathan’s wrist twirled the flogger in a steady, relentless rhythm, whipping her aching, sore tits.

Tap, tap, tap.

It struck the top of her breasts with each downstroke. The touch that had felt too soft began to ache from the repetition, the falls constantly striking the same spot.

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