Page 27 of Over the Line

“Use your safe word, or slow word, or settle down.” He stroked between her legs, making her wet again. Within moments, she responded to his touch.

“Ah…”

After capturing the chain in one hand, he gave a gentle tug.

“Damn!”

Gently, he slid a finger inside of her. “Your mouth protests, but your body sings a different story.” He released the chain before sliding back out. “Turn over and put your forehead on the mattress. Extend your hands so they reach the headboard.”

Although she moved slowly and with a ferocious frown, he didn’t hurry her.

To protect her skin, he wrapped scarves around her wrists before tying them together. Keeping a careful eye on her, he listened intently to the sound of her breathing. Her muscles were relaxed, and she inhaled softly.

After securing the length of sturdy rope to the lowest beam of the headboard, he stepped back to survey his handiwork. “Fabulous.” What could be more perfect than a beautiful woman tied in place for him?

She tugged on the bonds, as if testing them. As he’d suspected, they held her in place.

Michael tugged his shirt from his waistband and began to unfasten the buttons, from the bottom up, and she turned her head to the side to watch.

After shrugging out of the material, he tossed it in the direction of the closet.

“Sexy, if you don’t mind me saying so, Sir. And nice tattoo.”

“Thank you.” It was a good thing the artist had had talent. The night his father had passed, Michael had consumed too much, and in honor of the man’s memory—and his own commitment to the land—he’d had an eagle tattooed on his right biceps. “Now to see to you, Sydney.”

He stroked her ass. “You’re not even a bit pink from your earlier spanking.”

She wiggled her hips as if in invitation.

He rubbed her, gradually increasing the friction. Then he smacked her, hard.

“Mmm.” The word was all but a sigh.

He spanked the other buttock as well. As she relaxed, her spine became supple, and she pressed her cheek onto the mattress.

As he continued, he used his right hand to unbuckle his belt while he stroked her with the other.

Wordlessly turning herself over to him, she moved back and forth.

“Are you ready to come already?”

“Yes. Yes, Sir, I am. Please.”

Her plea was almost his undoing. But since he wanted her to wait a little longer, he stopped touching her and finished removing his belt.

Doubling it over, he asked, “How about a taste of leather?”

“More than a taste would be nice.”

He gave her a few gentle slaps, searching for a rhythm they’d both enjoy. At the Den, he’d learned a bit about her.

She could tolerate hard hits—in fact, she seemed to enjoy them the most. It would take a minute to get her there, though, and he forced himself to be patient. While he wanted her red and sore, he also wanted her to recover quickly. He had other plans for her.

With every third hit, he applied a little more wrist. And he rained the leather kisses over her buttocks and the backs of her thighs. Her tiny whimpers drove him on.

“God, Sir!”

That she became so aroused by an erotic belting appealed to him. He couldn’t wait to use a flogger and a paddle on her.