Page 21 of Vows in Sin
“Palms flat on the wall.”
I obey him with no hesitation. Palms on the wall. Cheek against cool paint like I’ve done this a thousand times before.
I want this.
“Let’s get this sexy little skirt out of my way.” Fingers brush my lower back as he unzips the leather skirt. His mouth is against my ear. His breath is warm on my skin. Same as last time.
“I wore it for you,” I confess.
“I thought as much,” he says, his lips brushing against my ear, his gratitude genuine, making me fool myself into thinking he needs this as much as I do, tonight. “But you shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t even be here.”
The skirt falls to the floor, a black ring on the concrete floor, circling my boots. I’m naked from the waist down, my naked ass out for him. I imagine how it must look, me facing the wall at his demand, my high black boots coming up to the backs of my knees.
He drags a long inhale of air between his teeth, then hisses, “No panties.”
I can’t see his reaction. But he sounds angered by how much my choice turns him on.
Why not add fuel to the fire?
I need him to give me what I came for.
Shifting my weight to my right foot, I cock a hip, jutting my bare ass out, making him give a deep growl of approval.
The clank of the metal buckle of his belt as it unlatches makes me shiver. The hiss of leather—his belt sliding free from the loops at his waist makes me tremble. I moan, low and shameful, before he can even raise it in the air.
“Why have you come?” he asks.
I blink, surprised by his question.
“You already know,” I respond. “After all, you’re the one who left the door open for me.”
That brings the fury I crave. Another growl.
The belt whistles as it cuts the air. There’s no time to clench or wince as the first strike lands along the fullest part of my ass, hip to hip. I cry out, hips jerking, the pain bright and biting as it blooms across my skin. The belt comes again, lower this time.
“You come crawling back,” he growls, “you get what you’re begging for.”
CRACK. He knows how to punish me in a way that makes the pain echo in my pussy. The third one makes me whimper. The fourth fiery strike has a strange effect. “I made a huge mistake at work!”
He drops the belt. The buckle hits the concrete floor with a clang—a beat of silence.
“What did you do?” His hands—rough and impatient—grab me, pulling me away from the wall, making me face him. “Tell me.”
“I—never mind.”
We gaze at each other for a moment. Heat and silence fill the air with tension. I wonder what it would feel like to be embraced by those strong arms again. Kissed by him once more.
His green eyes are filled with a furious desire. I don’t know his thoughts. I want him to want me as much as I want him. He leans down. I tilt my face up, desperately wanting him to take me in his arms and kiss me.
“Don’t want to talk? Fine.” Instead, he grabs my hips, turns me back toward the wall and bends me at the waist, folding me in half. “Legs spread. Ass up. Grab the crate.”
The toe of his black boot slides a wooden crate along the wall till it’s centered in front of me. I grab the edges of the crate, holding tight and thanking the gods I kept up with those poses I learned when I took yoga with Cleo in Italy.
I’m flexible.
In all kinds of ways. Like now. I was craving a sweet kiss, but now I want nothing more than for him to wreck me.
I can feel his gaze on me. Taking me in. Admiring my work with this outfit. His artistry in positioning my body. He loves what he sees; I hear it in the hot coals of his voice. “Stay like that. Just like that.”
