Page 91 of Over the Line

Master Michael used her body so completely that she was lost. When he reached beneath her to squeeze one of her breasts, she bucked, granting him deeper access, and when he took it, she screamed out her orgasm.

Bracing himself, he cupped her shoulders, then he moved inside her with short, quick motions before releasing a telltale guttural moan that signaled his climax.

He thrust a few more times, with a little less depth, before digging his fingers into her flesh and surging forward in a powerful motion.

She adored his primal, driving culmination.

Once they were done, they both stayed in the same position, together, connected, his fingers lightly on her hips. Surprising herself, she didn’t want to instantly end it.

Contentment unlike anything she’d ever experienced washed through her, bringing tears to her eyes.

At least a full minute later, he released her bindings. “Will you be okay if I leave you for a moment? I want to grab a washcloth. You’ll be able to hear me, and you don’t have to stay in one place.”

His thoughtfulness touched her. “I’m fine.” Even if she wanted to, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to move right now.

He left her in her puddle of emotion, her thighs sticky.

This, what she had with him, was exactly what she’d been seeking.

Less than a minute later, he returned and pressed a cool cloth between her legs. Always, after a scene, he cared for her. She was already coming to appreciate that about him. “Thank you, Sir,” she murmured.

After helping her to stand, he used a second washcloth to wipe the tracks of her tears. Though some Tops offered post-spanking comfort, Master Michael went above and beyond.

“I smeared the finish on your table,” she said as he turned her to face him.

“Fair’s fair. I wrecked your makeup. And Christ, that’s hot.”

“Is it?”

“It means you surrendered. There’s nothing more rewarding than proof of your tears.” He lowered the washcloth.

For a moment, she wondered if he might kiss her, and she wondered if she would let him if he tried.

He smiled, leaned down, and softly said, “How about a fresh glass of wine?”

“I can finish the one I was already drinking.”

He shuddered. “I won’t hear of it. After sitting outside for so long, it’s oxidized.”

“Really?” She was clearly no connoisseur. “I thought that some people decanted red wine.”

“A much more controlled process.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure I’d know the difference.”

“My preference. Indulge me?”

“In that case, thank you.” He shot her a cocky, inviting smile that she found it impossible to resist. “Do you mind if I take a quick shower?”

“Not at all. Or, if you want, feel free to soak in the bathtub.”

Though that was tempting, she wanted to spend more time with him, so she opted for the quicker option—standing beneath the water’s spray for just long enough to be reinvigorated.

After dressing in one of his T-shirts and a pair of leggings that she’d brought with her, she rejoined him.

Neither seemed to have any need for any major conversation, and, over wine, they watched the sun begin its descent. “This is a beautiful spot.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” He slid his wineglass onto the small table.