Page 97 of Surrender Your Grace
“As you wish.”
He switched implements. The birch landed lightly, feathering over her skin. It wasn’t bad at all—until the itch and sting bloomed. Sharp. Maddening.
“Andrew!” she gasped. “The itch is unbearable.”
The birch joined the tawse on the floor then his nails skimmed her bottom, scratching lightly.
“Better?”
“Yes,” she lied, afraid he’d keep scratching.
He patted one prickling cheek. “Punishment complete. Final verdict?”
“Your palm.”
“That wasn’t part of our comparison.”
“No, but hopefully, it will be, should you feel the need to spank me in the future.”
“Knowing you,” he said, lifting her into his arms, “I surely will.”
He carried her to the bed and opened the drawer beside it, retrieving a small jar.
“What’s that?”
“Cooling balm.” He pushed her knees to her chest and smoothed the ointment over her hot, still slightly itchy skin.
Relief occurred instantly, and she relaxed under his hand.
“You knew the birch was worse.”
“I did. But you seemed determined to find out.”
As his touch strayed to un-spanked places, she sighed. “My incorrigible duke.”
“Incorrigibly yours,” he countered, as his fingers glided between her thighs. “And now to address this moisture…”
Two fingers slid inside her, and her breath caught.
“You’re drenched, sweeting. Your protests were highly unconvincing.”
She hid her face with a groan. “What kind of lady becomes aroused when her husband disciplines her?”
“My kind,” he whispered, drawing her hands away to meet his gaze. “The kind who responds to every form of loving I give her. No shame, sweet pea.”
Then he parted her thighs wider, and his mouth replaced his fingers—hot, thorough, voracious, and over too quickly. He had more planned, however, and her cries echoed off the walls as he rose above her and filled her in one slow, perfect thrust.
“You fit me like a glove,” he groaned. “A warm, wet, silken glove.”
He stilled, buried deep, breathing her in.
“Are we finished?” she rasped, hoping he’d say no.
His head came up, his grin wicked as he pumped his hips. “Do I feel finished?”
“No. You feel wonderful.”
The teasing gave way to fervent passion. His thrusts were deep and sure, her fingers biting into his shoulders, legs locked around his waist. The tension inside built fast.
