Page 56 of Taming Her

“Stop that.” He batted them away.

“It hurts too much. Oh…”

“Not as much as your lifestyle was hurting the inside of your body. Now count.”

“Two,” she gasped, gritting her teeth and once again clasping the table. She stared straight ahead, unseeing.

A split second before the third strike hit, the air shifted around her burning ass.

Again she cried out. Her eyes squeezed closed. How would she take three more? The length of leather was wicked and completely unyielding against her tender flesh.

He dipped to speak by her ear. “You’re halfway, which means you get a break, little brat.”

“A… a break.” She opened her eyes.

“Yes. As you know, I have some cleaning up to do.” He set the folded belt down, near her face. It uncoiled a few inches then sat ominous and still.

He lifted his hand from her back. “Do not get up, do not move. You will stay exactly as you are until I return to deliver the final half of your punishment.”

She didn’t answer. Her ass was on fire, her thighs trembling.

“What are you going to do?” he asked, stroking hair from her hot brow. “Tell me.”

“Stay here.”

“Stay here, Sir.” He raised his eyebrows.

“Stay here, Sir.”

“Good girl.” He dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

It was a strange, intimate gesture that sent a fizz of desire to her belly. It traveled lower to her pussy and she clenched. Damn it, she was wet down there. How did he do that? His rough, dominant treatment clearly affected her on some subliminal level, made her body want him in a way it never had any other man.

He straightened and walked to the sink.

She stayed very still, tipped over and bared red ass facing the open door. Her attention followed him, watching his wide shoulders stoop over the sink, the muscles beneath his skin dancing as he set about clearing up the mess he’d made.

Swallowing, she risked touching her ass, sending the hand farthest from him over her skin.

She winced. Welts were already rising, long mean, dragging lines. She hardly dared imagine what it would feel like to sit on them. The sip of sangria hadn’t been worth this, not one bit. She’d been stupid to push him. Crazy to think he might allow her to descend into Party Ava.

And that’s what it would have been… a descent. She’d have had one, two, three drinks and then started whining to go into town, to a club.

Griff at a club. Partying. As if?

He moved to the bin and she quickly gripped the table with both hands again. He’d told her to stay still, and shameful as her position was, Ava had no intention of inviting more strikes with his belt.

She frowned at it. Evil thing.

“Are you thinking about your bad behavior?” he asked, running water into the sink.

“Yes, Sir.”

He glanced at her. A brief smile crossed his face.

It was the first time she’d called him Sir without prompting. It had pleased him.

A tiny thrill caught in her chest. She liked pleasing him much more than inviting his wrath.

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