Page 91 of Binding Their Hearts

He offered her an out knowing she would refuse. His brash, confident Alice would light the way before she guided Jay. Their husband sat with his mouth half-open, holding his breath for her answer, his cock upright and weeping with need.

“Yesss.” She vibrated with an alto trill. “Yes, please.”

Their symphony demanded a steady, percussive beat. Fire roared in his belly as he drew back his arm.

Chapter forty-four

Alice

Alice knew better than to brace herself for the flogger’s fall. Supple, slowing time—flogging held transmutative properties, her body gaining the qualities of the materials, of Henry’s motions—

Whomp.

The weighty buffalo rocked her forward on the padded rests, her thoughts scattering, her breath bursting out in a low groan. Head lolling, she panted. Her grin spread unprompted by any impulse on her part—her body’s pure responses superseded her mind. Ohhh, this was fun.

“Again,” she whispered into the gap, shivering as she waited for the next strike. “Please, Henry. Again, please.”

“Enjoying this, are we, dearest?” The warmth in his baritone snuggled around her, amusement second only to unchecked arousal in her hierarchy of most-loved Henry responses.

Forcing her breath to slow, she took stock. Her body thrummed like an engine, revolutions spinning up as she waited for the stomp of the foot on the pedal. “More than I can say.”

Her scanning gaze found Jay’s knees and followed up his thighs, past his tall, shiny-wet erection, beyond the solid muscle of his chest to his sweetheart mouth and his steep nose and his unwavering stare. With his whole body he leaned toward her, not straying from his waiting pose but rippling with intensity.

“It’s incredible.” Answering Henry, she spoke directly to Jay, tender and encouraging. Flogging felt like shedding your skin. The old slipped away with every contact, and underneath, something new, something delicate and fresh, was coaxed into existence. “It’s becoming who I am. Recognizing my true self.”

She stopped herself from asking if he wanted that feeling. It wasn’t time yet. She’d put her trust in Henry. She bowed her head once more. “That’s only twenty-one, Master Henry. I’m ready for my nine now.”

“So you are.”

The blow landed with his words, smacking all the way across her ass, setting her engine racing. The world reconfigured itself around a new truth: the suede she’d thought had been a summer deluge? A gentle spring rain. The buffalo thundered into her, loud and walloping, a storm sent to drown her in sensation.

Her body shook. Crackling energy cascaded out to the far reaches of toes and fingertips—lightning in a feedback loop with the buffalo’s roar. Lips trembling, she mouthed the count in a silent echo of Henry’s sure, steady announcements.

Twenty-four, and her body sizzled. Maybe the thunder came from her, the superheated air from the lightning ignited by each strike. Her thighs hugged polished wood, smooth and almost cool. Tensing in anticipation and quaking in aftermath, she bounced between extremes without rest.

Twenty-seven, and wild keening erupted from her, the notes rising and falling but always begging. More. Greedy girl. Henry called her that sometimes, teasingly, though her ears buzzed and she couldn’t hear him now.

Twenty-nine. Funny how the buffalo didn’t sting, not even a little. The falls thudded against her in an endless rumble, a deep tissue massage calibrated to leave her burning and limp and pleading for the climax forming like a newborn star beneath her skin.

Thirty.

She wailed, so close she scraped the edge of release and dug clawed fingers against the cushioned armrests. “Please, please please please.”

Heat and hunger stole the place where her words should be.

But a new heat and hunger filled her—plunged inside her, faster than the flogger’s rhythm. Fingers slick and sliding off her clit, Jay crowded her legs with his muscled thighs and fucked her with every ounce of the intensity he’d been holding back. Draping himself over her, he grabbed at her shoulder with his free hand and worked his way down. As he wove his fingers with hers, his breath gusted between her shoulder blades.

Yes. Harder. I need it. Be with me, Jay. Feel with me.

“Your mistress is calling for your service, Jay.” Henry’s voice returned, measured but deeper, throaty and growling. “Give her the release she demands.”

Slippery fingers pinched her clit. “Gotcha, Alice,” Jay panted between kisses plastering her back. A third finger zipped back and forth across her nerves. With relentless, driving hips, he hurtled them into the lightning. “I always gotcha.”

“You do, you do, you—” Her white-hot star convulsed into existence.

Jay’s final thrusts met her seizing muscles. Their groans mingled above the soothing classical soundtrack.

Her lungs, sucking down oxygen, heaved against the padded platform. “Fuck, I am…”

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