Page 27 of Bleeding Hearts Duet

“Very well.” His voice was pure silk now. “I’m going to count to ten,” he explained. “And every time I strike you, I want you to repeat part four of our agreement, verbatim. Do you remember what that is, Brighton?”

“My body is yours to do with as you please,” I stated blandly.

“That’s it,” he praised me. “See, I knew you were a clever girl. But don’t stumble over the words or forget to say it, because if you do, that means we have to start over. Understand?”

“Perfectly,” I snapped.

I wasn’t prepared. I thought he was going to draw it out longer as he seemed to be relishing that idea today. So when the first strike sang down against my ass, his voice sounded like it was under water when he counted the first blow.

I reared up in surprise, and he pushed me right back down with a firm palm in the center of my back.

“Forgetting something?” he asked.

“My body is yours to do with as you please,” I panted.

“Good girl.”

It didn’t really hurt the first time. I learned that the second time when he hit me harder in a different place. It was more the shock of it than anything, but my natural instinct was to try to get away.

He swatted me harder still and grabbed my hips to pull me back into place. “You’re making it harder than it has to be, Brighton,” he admonished. “Now we have to start over.”

I whimpered, but I learned my lesson. I clamped my jaw and curled my fingers into the bedspread if I needed to, but I never moved. And with every number he rattled off, I echoed his claim on my body. With every blow, my skin flooded with warmth, and my voice raised to a crescendo.

I was on fire, everywhere. My core ached, and even my breasts were heavy and full. I didn’t understand it. But somewhere along the way, the discomfort had subsided. I had transcended the pain and embraced a euphoric high I’d never even known existed.

It wasn’t until I heard myself moan that I realized the belt was long gone. In its place was him, thrusting into me so hard he sounded possessed. I was still screaming out part four of our agreement with every thrust. I couldn’t stop myself, and it was driving him out of his fucking mind.

His teeth scraped down along my spine, his fingers biting into my hips. He kept telling me how good I felt. How beautiful I was. How much he liked to degrade me. His voice was nothing but a husky whisper in my ear, his breath ragged in his chest. He fucked me like I was the only thing that mattered to him. The only thing that ever mattered. The exchange of power was intoxicating. I was in control now, and there was nothing that could stop my descent into oblivion.

Or so I thought.

I was on the verge of exploding when he stopped, making me whimper in frustration. My orgasm was the only thing I had to look forward to during this exchange, and he was taking it away from me.

“Not yet.”

He was determined to show me who was in control here, and I was determined not to let it be him. But when his thumb started working against my clit, my body won out over my mind.

I bucked against him and cried out for my release when he stopped again.

“Please,” I begged, rocking my hips upward. I was so sensitive I didn’t think I would survive if he didn’t free me from this agony.

“You want to come?” he asked softly.

I didn’t reply. Because as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t give him the satisfaction. Cool air settled over my skin when he pulled away, and for a minute, I worried that he was going to punish me again. But after a few adjustments, the heat of his breath skated over my inner thighs. With the first lick, he had me on edge. Again. He teased me with the softest of touches before pulling away.

He flipped me onto my back and left me lying there, flushed and on the verge of a psychotic break. I never knew that I could want something so much, but I did. I was worse than Norma with her pills. What the hell was happening to me?

I wanted to scream. I fisted the covers in my hands when he pushed himself back inside of me. His lips were on mine a moment later, covered in my arousal, but I didn’t care. I kissed him back fiercely, punishing him the only way I could as I nipped at his lips and tugged on his hair. He thrived on my reaction, giving it back just as good as he got. His teeth pulled at my lip until I tasted blood, which he sucked into his mouth with a groan.

I sank my nails into his back, and he responded by wrapping his hand around my throat in warning. For some crazy reason, it was making me wet. This vicious romp. The savagery of our connection. He had tapped into a part of my psyche that I didn’t know was there. The part of me that liked the pain and fucked up things he was doing to me.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured against me. “Tell me who you wish was inside of you right now. Making you come.”

I froze at his request. He couldn’t honestly expect me to answer that.

His thumb found my clit again, so swollen and sensitive that tears leaked from my eyes. I needed my release, and he was intentionally torturing me. It shouldn’t have surprised me. He was the worst kind of evil. A predator, and probably a sadist too. I knew this, and yet I kept forgetting whenever he touched me.

“Tell me,” he urged, nipping my ear as I bucked against him.

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