Page 44 of Flog Me, Sir

I hated that his desire to abuse my body turned me on. Hated it. Stomach twisting, I leaned up to kiss him—and shut my thoughts off.

* * *

I needed space to think,to breathe, without Garret Edwards swarming my senses. He captivated me. Consumed me to the point I forgot my name.

Saturday night, he took me to the church, and not that I dragged my feet, but he seemed to note my mental hesitation. Rather than flog me, he tied me spread eagle to the bed and teased me madly until I sobbed for him. Begged and pleaded with him until hoarse to fuck me.

He’d shoved in fully with one thrust, and I came around his too-big cock, my climax gushing like when he’d made me fuck myself with the butt plug. He cared for me afterward, his hands gentle, loving.

I cried.

He explained the release of subspace and coming back down. Same as with everything else in his lifestyle, reading and doing were totally different things.

Exhaustion from the previous two weeks dragged me under until I passed out, once more cleaned up by Garret and held securely in his arms.

I woke in the same position I’d lain down, still drained of emotion and overwhelmed with so many feelings, I needed space.

“What’s wrong, sweet thing,” he murmured the second I opened my eyes.

He appeared well rested without a single line marring his beautiful face.

I swallowed against the thickness in my throat. “I-I think I just need an hour or so to myself.”

Garret searched my face for a few seconds. “Okay.”

His voice hinted at disappointment, but he let me go—gave me what I needed.

I slipped back into the house, the sounds of the squabbling twins and their nanny coming from the sunroom where they usually breakfasted. Adam and Lily would be returning on Monday, Labor Day, the same day I expected Garret would once more return to Boston.

My heart ached at the thought of his leaving, and I couldn’t let go and be vulnerable in the way he had. Every look, every touch he gave made me realize he wanted more.

I wanted to give it.

And yet, I didn’t.

I shut myself in my bedroom and allowed myself a good cry, soaking my pillow. A knock sounded on my door, but much later than I’d expected, my tears long dried.

“Come in!” I called, knowing who looked for me.

Sure enough Mrs. Hummel poked her head in. “You okay, child?”

I nodded and motioned her to come in. “Yeah.”

She snorted and sat on the edge of my bed. “Don’t look none too good.”

My eyes rolled on their own. Trust Mrs. Hummel to let loose with her thoughts. “I’m just overwhelmed.”

“By?”

“Garret.”

“Hmm.” She regarded me until I looked away, picking at a loose thread on my comforter. “That boy hurt you?”

I considered the marks he’d left on my ass Friday night, but the memory of that pain didn’t compare to the squeezing of my heart. “Not really, no.”

“He put his hands on you?”

I shot a glance her way. “What do you mean?”

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