Page 181 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

Chapter 49

Gabe doesn’t easeme in.

No warm-up. No warning.

Just impact.

The first strike lands solid—not cruel, but deliberate. Steady. Unyielding.

A sharp thud against my skin, the thick leather strands of the flogger biting in deep, spreading heat through my flesh. Not a whisper. Not a taste.

A claim.

Suspended, exposed, helpless—I can’t run. I can’t hide.

I can only feel.

And Gabe makes damn sure I feel everything.

The relentless rhythm of leather against bare skin.

The sting blooming, spreading, sinking deep.

The slow, dizzying drop into that place only he can take me—where pain melts into pleasure, where the lines blur, where I stop fighting the ache and start craving it.

I arch against the restraints, my breath ragged, my bodyvibrating with every carefully placed strike.

I break apart with every lash, and yet, somehow, I am made whole.

Somewhere beyond the haze, I hear Hank’s voice—low, steady, grounding.

“She still with you?”

Gabe exhales hard, but there’s something raw in the way his voice dips when he answers.

“She’s flying.”

And he swings again.

I feel Hank before I see him, his hand brushing against my cheek, the calloused pad of his thumb gentle against my skin flushed with pain.

“Are you okay, luv?” His voice is quiet, coaxing. “Do you want to stop?”

“I’m okay.” My breath hitches. “I don’t want to stop.”

His hand lingers just long enough to anchor me, and then he kisses my temple, his voice a soft murmur in my ear. “That’s my girl.”

Then he’s gone again, fading into the background like a phantom protector—watching, always watching.

Gabe doesn’t stop.

Doesn’t slow.

Because today, I’m his.

And he intends to break me beautifully.

He takes his time—every strike deliberate, a symphony of sensation. The crop kisses my inner thigh. The whip sings across my shoulder. My moans turn wordless, primal, drawn from somewhere deeper than pleasure or pain.

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