Page 27 of Submit

She could sense him behind her, even though the enticing, hurting pinching had stopped. She pulled in a breath, exhaled, inhaled again. How long was he going to wait before he did something?

Before the thought was even completed, she felt a hard smack on her ass.

“Oh!”

It hurt, but the reverberations of pain trembling through her also held that lovely edge of pleasure. He did it again, and again she cried out—with the pain, with the surprise of it.

“Adam.”

He smoothed his fingers over the sore spots. It felt wonderful.

“Is that a safe word, beautiful girl?”

“No. I just… what is that?”

“A leather strap.” He brought his arm over her shoulder and held the oblong piece of leather close to her face.

“Breathe it in,” he told her.

She did, inhaling the earthiness of the leather. And the scent—simply him—that made her tremble.

His face was close to her ear. He said quietly. “This is what I’m using, Skye. But you won’t always be told. There is some mind-fuck in the shock of it. Sometimes it will be a toy. Sometimes it will just be my hands. And I can do plenty with my bare hands.”

As if to prove himself, he buried his fingers in the back of her hair and pulled tight, tighter, drawing her head back. The sensation was indescribable. It didn’t quite hurt. It was a statement. Of control. Of ownership.

He pulled tighter. She let out a gasp.

“I see you’re beginning to understand.”

He let her hair go and she thought he’d take the strap to her again, but instead he grabbed onto the tender flesh at her side, taking a handful of her flesh and digging his fingers in hard, making it really hurt.

“Oh…”

She tried to pull away purely on instinct and heard his evil chuckle.

“I love to see you dance like that for me. It’s beautiful.”

He hung on and gave her a swat on her ass with the strap, making her rise up on her toes.

“Oh!”

He smacked her again and again, each strike landing harder, leaving her panting and breathless and full of need. Her head swam.

Suddenly, he pulled her into his body again, and she sank into him, loving the feel of his strong arm around her waist. He lifted her hair with his free hand, kissing the back of her neck. She sighed.

When he bit into her flesh, she moaned her pleasure.

He bit again, then kissed her sore skin as he pulled away.

“Again,” he ordered, and she knew to brace her hands on the wall. She spread her feet apart to steady herself.

“Ah, good girl.”

He started in again with the strap, pausing now and then to stroke her burning flesh with his hand, giving her a chance to breathe, to absorb the pain. To ride it out. And her head was absolutely emptying out. She was nothing but this sensation and the awareness of him: his scent, the heat of his body, the aura of his command. Nothing else mattered but the flood of sensations. That and the insistent ache between her thighs, like a pulse-beat of desire.

“Adam, please,” she whispered, gasped.

He hit her harder with the strap, and she loved it, needed it. Needed him to touch her even more.

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