Page 98 of The Sadist and the Brat

“Well, let’s fix that.” He ran his fingers through her hair, his big hands surprisingly gentle. “I need this out of the way.”

She was silent as he gathered up her hair, wrapping an elastic around it so it sat on top of her head in a loose replica of his habitual bun.

“There,” he murmured, and planted a kiss on the base of her neck. “Did you know you have a little cluster of freckles, right here?”

“I have freckles everywhere,” she managed.

“Not everywhere,” he replied. “A sprinkle here, a dusting there. One of these days, I’m going to play connect the dots. With a blade.”

She blinked at the wall in front of her.A blade?

“But that’s for another time,” he went on, stroking his hands down her back. Big and warm, slightly rough, the rings he wore cool and smooth in contrast. “Tonight, I want to keep things simple.”

“That’s a change.” She tilted her head back. She wanted to lay it on his shoulder, but he was too far away.

“Sometimes, you have to get back to basics.” He skimmed his hands over her hips, down her thighs. “I need these a bit wider, I think.”

She inched her knees apart, balancing on the pillow he’d put under her knees to cushion them. “Like that?”

“A little more,” he said, urging her legs apart with his hands on her inner thighs. “There, that’s good. How does that feel?”

She wiggled, assessing as she settled into the new position. Her legs weren’t so far apart that her thighs were straining, and she felt steady enough. “It’s fine.”

“Good.” He dropped a kiss on the base of her spine. “Let’s get started.”

She tensed, anticipating a blow. But all he did was run his hands up her back again, spreading them out so it seemed he covered every inch of her skin. He drew them down, stroking over her hips, her ass, her thighs, then did it all over again.

She fought down impatience, knowing from experience that he couldn’t be rushed. She’d tried sassing him to move things along—something that had always worked very well for her in the past—but he was immune to her tactics, no matter how much she bratted it up. More than once he’d drawn out a scene until she was ready to scream with frustration. He would move at his pace and no faster, no matter how much she begged—something else she’d gotten a lot of practice at over the last few weeks—so she closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, forcing her tensed muscles to relax, and ordered herself to go with it.

She timed her breathing to his stroking hands, letting herself settle into the rhythm of it. His strokes grew heavier, firmer, the pressure pushing her forward so she rocked back and forth. It was relaxing, almost hypnotic—until the first hit came.

The slap on her back didn’t hurt—in fact, it might not have registered at all except that it broke the rhythm she’d gotten into. But then the next one came, and the next, the rapid smacks moving up and down her back, butt and thighs, gradually increasing in intensity. He was warming her up, bringing blood to the surface in preparation for harder blows. She wondered dimly what he’d use—the way he was concentrating on her back made her think flogger, but he could just as easily choose a crop or a slapper. Even a whip was a possibility, though it would have to be a short one. There wasn’t enough space in the room for anything long.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the bed shifted behind her, and something heavy stroked over her shoulders. It was soft and carried the unmistakable scent of well-conditioned leather.

“Flogger,” she murmured.

“Good guess.”

“Heavy,” she said, trying to picture it in her mind. The leather falls felt wide rather than thin, and thick as they trailed over her ass and hips. “Buffalo?”

“Have you been peeking in my toy bag?” he wondered.

“I might have, if I’d thought of it,” she admitted.

“I can see I’m going to have to invest in a lock,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.” She said it automatically, but it was true. She felt warm and loose, and even though arousal was beginning to build, oddly content.

“Color?”

“Green, green, greenity-green,” she sang and let out a low laugh.

“All right, then,” he said, amused, and slid a hand around to her belly. “Lean back a little, love, and roll your shoulders forward.”

Her body felt heavy, and not quite her own, so she let his hand guide her, pulling her where he wanted her. “Like this?”

“Perfect,” he murmured, his beard tickling her shoulder as he brushed a kiss there. “I want you to try to maintain this position. If you get tired or need to move, let me know.”

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