Page 25 of Beg Me
"Open it," he commands softly.
With slightly trembling fingers, I pluck the tissue paper from the bag and reach inside. A leather paddle. The surface is smooth and polished, with small heart-shaped cutouts that will leave their mark on the skin.
I suck in a breath, instantly aroused by the implications. "It's beautiful," I whisper, running my fingers over the leather.
"I thought about you when I saw it," Colt says, his voice dropping lower. "How those little hearts would look on your ass. How you'd feel them with every step afterward."
My cheeks flush hot, but I don't look away from his gaze. "I'd like that."
His hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing across my lower lip. "I know you would, pretty toy. That's why you're perfect for me."
The paddle sits between us, a promise of pain and pleasure to come. I've never wanted anything more in my life.
Colt's eyes flicker toward my bedroom doorway. "Take me there," he says, voice shifting into that commanding tone that makes my insides melt.
I lead him through the apartment, suddenly self-conscious of my ordinary bedroom with its mismatched furniture and unmade bed. It's nothing like the room he rented at Desire. But when I glance back at him, he's not looking at my decor, he's looking at me with an intensity that makes my skin flush.
"Strip for me," he says once we're inside. The words aren't harsh, but there's no mistaking the command. This isn't the gentle Colt who held me in the bath or fed me chocolate. This is my Dom, and my body responds instantly to the shift.
"Yes, Sir," I say, my fingers already reaching for the hem of my sweater.
I pull it over my head slowly, watching his face. His expression remains controlled, but his eyes darken as I revealmy bare skin inch by inch. I'm not wearing a bra, and my nipples harden instantly under his gaze.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, but doesn't move to touch me.
I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my leggings, sliding them down my hips along with my underwear. The cool air raises goosebumps across my skin as I stand naked before him, fighting the urge to cover myself.
"Turn around," he orders. "Slowly."
I turn in a careful circle, feeling his gaze like a physical touch on every inch of my exposed skin. When I face him again, he's holding the paddle, running his thumb over the smooth leather surface.
"Come here," he says.
I step forward until I'm standing directly in front of him. He's still fully dressed, and the contrast makes me feel even more vulnerable, more exposed. More his.
He reaches out with his free hand, tracing a line from my collarbone down between my breasts, over my stomach, stopping just above where I want him most. My breath catches as he leans in, his lips close to my ear.
"You're so responsive," he murmurs. "So eager to please."
"Only for you," I whisper back, surprising myself with the truth of it.
He takes the paddle and slowly trails it over my skin—across my shoulders, down my arms, over the curve of my hip. The leather is cool and smooth, a whispered promise of what's to come. He circles behind me, letting the paddle glide over my ass, tapping it lightly against each cheek.
"You're going to feel this for days," he says, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me. "Every time you sit down, you'll remember who you belong to."
A shiver runs down my spine at his words. "Yes, Sir."
His free hand comes up to grip my hair, pulling my head back gently but firmly until my back arches. "Bend over the edge of the bed," he commands. "Ass up."
I move to obey, positioning myself at the foot of my bed. I bend at the waist, resting my upper body on the mattress, my feet still on the floor. The position leaves me completely exposed, vulnerable in a way that should terrify me but instead makes heat pool between my legs.
I feel him move behind me, his presence like a physical weight even before he touches me. The paddle traces lazy circles on my skin, building anticipation until I'm nearly trembling with it.
"Remember your safe words?" he asks.
"Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for go," I recite, my voice muffled against the bedspread.
"Good girl." His praise washes over me like warm honey. "And your color now?"
