Page 64 of Their Master

Her orgasm had barely faded when Smith’s deeply satisfiedmmmmbrought her back to reality. He slid his hands around her, cupped her breasts, and gently raised her upright.

“Better?” he asked, trailing kisses over her shoulder, his lips soft on the scars.

Moira could only nod and press back against him.

He released one of her breasts and traced the mostly healed wounds on her back. “Do you have any pain?”

“They’ve not hurt for a while. Every evening Luke rubs a salve on them.” Which left her just as frustrated with arousal as his shaving.

Moira paused and then asked, even though she didn’t want to, “How do they look?”

“Like you’ve been in a war and survived.”

“They are ugly.” It wasn’t a question.

“They are part of you, so that makes them beautiful.” The feel of his lips tracing a scar made her throat prickle and she had to swallow to hold down a sudden sob.

But she mustn’t have been entirely successful hiding her emotions.

“Shhh,” he whispered, kissing the sensitive shell of her ear, the gentle touches undoing her more than Brown’s brutal beating had.

Nobody had ever touched her with such tenderness. Certainly neither of her parents, although her sister Sandrine had done what she could—what their mother had allowed.

But Moira didn’t want his kindness; the only thing she wanted from him was Sandrine, and that was something he could never, ever give her.

That’s a lie, Moira, and you know it—you want far more from Smith.

You want everything.

Moira squeezed her eyes shut at the traitorous thought and pushed back against him, the comforting shelter of his hot, muscular chest against her back only making her feel more miserable and guilty.

“I need to be whipped,” she whispered. “Please.”

His body tightened at her words, but he merely held her.

“I want it, Smith.” A bubble of hysteria rose inside her. “Please, I need to be—”

Moira bit her lip just in time to catch the last part of that sentence:punished for what I’m going to do to you.

He squeezed her gently. “I’ll give you what you need.”

Moira almost wept with relief. “Thank you.”

“But not tonight.”

Moira blinked. “Er, I’m sorry?”

Smith chuckled, kissed her again, and then turned her around and grinned down at her, lust flaming in his dark eyes. He took her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, pinching them hard enough to make her eyes water. “I’m afraid I couldn’t do you justice in the state I’m in tonight, darling.”

“But…when?” she whined.

“Soon,” he promised. “Soon I’ll whip these pretty tits until you come.”

Moira moaned. His words alone were almost enough to make her climax, and she pressed into his palms, her breasts tight and aching. “Please.”

Instead of easing her need, he released her and kissed her lightly on the nose. “Good night, my Moira.”

And then he strode toward the door to his bedchamber and disappeared into his room, leaving her alone.

---