Page 289 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” I brush a kiss across his lips.
He swallows, still hesitant. “You’re serious.”
I nod, biting my lip. “Dead serious.”
I lie on my stomach, sheets warm under me, heart hammering. I tuck my arms under my chest, fingers gripping the fabric, trying to calm myself. My legs stretch out, slightly bent at the knees, toes curling into the sheets as a shiver runs through me.
I feel tense, exposed, and every little brush of his hand or the clipboard sends sparks across my skin.
The mattress shifts as he kneels beside me, clipboard in hand, fingers brushing over my hips.
I glance at it, then at him, pulse racing at the thought of him using it on me.
“Ready?” His voice is low, testing, and I hear the hesitation underneath.
I nod, biting my lip. “Yes. I trust you.”
He bends down and kisses the back of my head. “Why do you have to say those words right now?” he hisses in my ear. “When I’m about to punish you.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. “Start soft. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”
“I’m going to use my hand first.” He hovers behind me, and I feel the thrill of anticipation coil tight in my belly.
“Okay.” My body is tense, every nerve alive, waiting for that first tap, the start of this new, electric experience.
Silence stretches for a moment. Then his palm rests gently against me, warm. A beat later—
Smack.
The sound shocks us both.
I gasp—half from the sting, half from the thrill. It wasn’t hard, not really. Just enough to make me jolt and gasp. Heat spreads instantly across my skin.
He freezes. “Too much?”
I shake my head quickly, glancing back at him with a smirk I don’t quite feel brave enough for. “No. Not even close. Again,” I breathe, already trembling for more.
Another pause. Then his hand lifts.
Smack.
This one lands firmer. A sharp sting follows a rush of warmth that makes my thighs press together. My breath hitches, and before I can stop myself, a sound—half-moan, half-cry—escapes my lips.
He swears under his breath. “Did I hurt you?”
His palm lingers against my skin, rubbing over the warmth like he’s checking for damage. The contrast, from sting to soothing, makes my pulse race faster.
I glance at him. “Again.”
And that’s when I see the hesitation in his eyes shift into something else.
“You’re really into this,” he mutters, half to himself.
“Only if you keep going,” I shoot back, braver now.
He huffs a laugh, nervous but intrigued. “You’re gonna have to tell me if I’m doing it wrong.”
