Page 30 of An Angel's Share
“You’re late.” My voice is so low, my heart rate so high. I sit lounging in my chair, my posture oozing relaxed and calm vibes, but deceit is in every limb. I’m waiting to strike, and I know she knows it.
She stops dead. I fucking love that she knows it. And from the look on her face, she loves it too.
She glances at the belt and crop laid out on the bench as I move my hand to the belt and stroke it, the leather so soft under my fingertips. I pat it twice and her eyes dilate.
Fuck me. Never has a conversation been so loud without saying a word.
I stroke the plaited leatherwork on the stem of the crop slowly, so slowly, and I watch the blush run up her delectable body.
“Is that for me?” she croaks out eventually, vocalising the thoughts she’s been sending my way for the past five minutes. Even though she’s not loud, the space around us magnifies the sound.
“All for you, my love. Everything I do is for you.”
“I’ll take it, I’ll take it all.”
This woman, no messing around. Ask and you shall receive. And she is asking.
I love it.
I stand in a fluid movement, stalking towards her. Her breathing picks up with every step nearer I take.
In flat shoes, she still stands tall, her face level with my chin. Her bright red hair sparks off the light flecks comingin through the windows high above us, creating a fiery halo around her head. Someone other than me may only see heaven. But I see hell too. A fire to consume us. And I’ll grin through every minute of it.
As I circle her, she can hardly breathe, and she seems cemented to the floor. She dips her head down slightly, watching me from under her eyelashes. My smile is licentious.
Stopped behind her, I step inwards so I’m a whisker away from her arse cheeks. “Have you done as you were told?”
She blows out a breath, but doesn’t answer. I smirk at that, knowing exactly what she wants without a single word.
“You want me to find out for myself? I’ll have to strip you for that.”
Her eyelashes flutter and she bites her lip. Fuck, this woman is a siren. I can hardly contain myself.
“Stay here, just like this. I need to make sure the door’s locked. Wouldn’t want any interruptions.”
I’m intrigued to see if she can actually do as she’s told. She’s not a submissive person by nature. In fact quite the opposite. But here, maybe it’s different. She knows what it feels like, how amazing it feels to do as I say. She actually likes it. Someone else to be in charge for a short while anyway. Someone else to make the decisions for you. It’s freeing.
I turn and walk away towards the door she came through. It’s the only working entrance. The big barn doors are locked and not in use. I made sure to choose somewhere we can’t be found. That we’re far enough away from the house she won’t be heard however loud she is, however the sound magnifies.
I turn back and notice she’s not moved. “Well, it seemsyou can, on occasion, do as you’re told. Pity it won’t save you from the punishment. But I’ll halve it, for good behaviour.”
Walking past her, I smirk and stroke the belt on the workbench. My eyes lock on hers as I do. She has no brown left, her eyes fully dilated. Oh, my baby mamma likes to play. Good luck for her that I am a master in that department. And I know what she likes. I remember California well, her body singing under my hands.
The need to touch her skin is intense, so I prowl over and stand directly in front of her, undoing the buttons on her dress with precision. It drops back, exposing her to me. Protruding tummy, skin glowing rose in the sunlight, she is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
She’s removed her bra, and her tits are full, nipples standing to attention, just waiting for the inspection. But oh dear, the knickers are still in situ. My smile is obscene at that wilful spirit. She’s playing with fucking fire. And she knows it. I love that about her.
Picking up the crop and using the leather end—the keeper, and she certainly is auditioning to be that today—I sweep the dress open and away from her body. I shutter my eyes. I don’t want to scare her off by being too intense. The crop is already having an effect. Her breathing has picked up again, excitement pulsing out of her, pumping her pheromones at me. I breathe it all in. She thinks she can take it all. Well, I fucking want it. Her, everything.
I start at the top of her magnificent tits. Gently gliding the crop over them, she gasps when I apply pressure. The old leather keeper has a rough edge, and I drag it over her sensitive breasts. My movements are consistently slow, designed to build up her anticipation. She looks like she is going to grab the crop and hit me with it, she’s that desperate.
Running it down the centre of her stomach, I stop just below her navel as I hit knickers. I tap the crop on the extensive fabric and quirk my brow at her. Her grin is pure mischief. She wants the punishment she knows is coming. She knows this will make it even better. The little minx.
“Well, Houston, we seem to have a problem.” I smirk. “Disobeyed a direct order.”
I’m shaking my head as I walk around her. Lifting the dress up from the bottom with the crop, checking out her arse in the robust pants, I tap her arse cheeks with the crop. “You have been a very bad girl.” I hear her gasp. “And you will need to try to redeem yourself.”
She huffs out a laugh. “I’m nearly six months pregnant. Knickers are an essential piece of kit.” She hooks her fingers into the lace at the top. “And they’re pretty.”
