Page 123 of A Forgotten Promise

He shakes his head. “You have all the say, baby. I may be writing the script, but you’re directing the play. Do you trust me to offer the best scenario?”

I nod, swallowing.

“Is that a yes?”

He runs the whip up my thigh, its leather tassels erupting small explosions all over my skin and across my center. I’m clenching and shaking and gasping, and having so many visceral reactions I want to bolt and stay at the same time.

“Yes,” I say, with such resolution I surprise us both.

“Good girl,” he growls.

And again, the words do things to me I would never admit. It’s just a phrase. But fuck if I don’t want to be his good girl.

He reaches behind me and unclasps the handcuffs, only to secure them again with my hands in front of me.

The whole time, his cock twitches. His engorged length is an encouraging reminder I’m not the only one affected here.

The anticipation builds up between my thighs as he drags the tassels up my ass and spine, across my shoulders, and between my breasts. I think I’m going to black out.

He kisses me roughly, and then swats with the whip, again only grazing the skin of my hip. “On the bed.”

I try to walk across the room with some grace and dignity, but twelve fucking years of promenading myself on runways around the world and I almost trip over the few feet.

Sitting on the mattress, I look at Corm. He really is gorgeous. I didn’t get a chance to admire him before, but the man is flawless. Sublime. Arresting.

“On your back, your hands above your head.” He prowls around the bed, tapping the whip on his other palm.

I obey, scooting farther and lying across the mattress, trepidation and arousal cruising through my body.

He comes to my feet and traces my skin with the leather in his hands. I buckle, so oversensitive to any contact by now I may just climax from his gaze.

“Spread those beautiful legs for me,” he drawls.

I open for him, because I no longer question anything. I only want this to move on and get to the main program. He pushes my knees farther apart and kneels between them at the edge of the bed.

“You keep your arms above your head. I’m going to start with five for your sass earlier, and then I’m going to eat that delicious pussy of yours, but if you move your arms, I’ll punish you again. Understood.”

I nod eagerly, and the bastard chuckles. He picks up my leg and puts it on his shoulder, peppering my ankle with gentle kisses. I get so distracted and confused by his tender routine that the first slap catches me by surprise.

“What the fuck?” I cry out, but he whips without mercy until he lands all five.

The sensation is blazing, but it ignites a decadent need I’ve never felt before. Fuck, this hurts, and I want more.

Corm drops the whip beside us and leans in, kissing me gently between my legs. “Look at you, baby, dripping for me. Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, I need…” I can’t talk.

He flattens his tongue and runs it through my throbbing folds. “What do you need?”

“I need to come,” I whimper.

He leaves the task, glowering at me from between my thighs.

What the fuck? Why did he stop? He raises his eyebrow, challenging me, and I scramble to figure out what’s going on, and then it hits me.

Fucker.

“Please,” I practically wail.

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