Page 133 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
“Ten?”
He grunts his agreement as his palm strokes softly over the curve of my ass, then squeezes the ample flesh there. “Count them for me.”
With that ominous order, his hand leaves my cheek, then returns in a sharpcrackthat echoes over the pristine landscape.
“Eek!” I squeak in shock, as the sound fades, replaced by a slight burn.
But… it’s not that bad. He’s barely using a fraction of his fae strength, and if I’m honest… I’ve had worse hits during my training with Maeve.
“Count.” Drystan rubs away the sting—soothing it into a warm heat that draws a moan from me. “If you miss a number, we start from the beginning.”
“I thought I was being punished for breaking the rules. Counting isn’t a rule.” I don’t know what possesses me to say it—perhaps it’s sheer stupidity. Either way, as I swing round on my ropes, the look of pure smugness on his face makes something low in me clench.
He’s actually smirking. Goddess save me, I think I’m in trouble.
“We’ll start again then,” he says. “And for that, you can thank me after each one as well.”
And the next smack is in exactly the same place as the first. Harder, this time.
“Shit!”
“Not a number.”
“One!” I cry out as he raises his hand again. “Thank you, Master.”
The raised brow I receive in response makes me believe I’ve gotten away with it, but when the next blow lands on my other cheek, it takes my breath away.
“Two. Thank you, Master.” I gasp as soon as I can draw breath.
His fingers dip low between my spread thighs, tracing so lightly against the silken wetness already dripping from there, and I whimper. The contrast of feather-light touches against my pussy and the sharp stinging spanks on my ass are hard to rationalise.
“Do you need to tell me to stop?” he asks.
“No, Master.”
“Good.”
The third spank is lower, the fourth a little higher. He stops again when I reach five, rubbing his palm over the warm and sensitive flesh.
“I think you like this,” he murmurs underneath his breath. “I think your cunt is dripping for me.”
“N—” My attempt at deception earns me another spank.
“That one doesn’t count,” he adds, before I can say the next number. “Now, is your cunt dripping for me? And don’t try to lie this time.”
My head drops forward, my cheeks red with shame.
“Yes, Master.” It’s barely a whisper of an admission. “I need you. Please fuck me.”
“Five more to go before you get my cock.” His fingers tap dance down my crease again. “But I suppose you’ve earned a little something for being so good, haven’t you?”
I nod eagerly, praying beyond all hope that he means an orgasm.
One long finger slides easily into me, and I moan in relief as my muscles clench around him, welcoming the intrusion as he thrusts it in and out slowly. Then he curves it, the tip rubbingfirmly against that perfect spot on the front wall of my pussy with maddening accuracy.
I’m going to come, and he hasn’t even touched my clit. Choppy little pants paint the air, but they’re drowned out by the obscene wet noises he’s pulling from my sex. I know that the snow is muffling the sound, but it doesn’t seem like it with my heart pounding like this. I tense in the ropes, trying unsuccessfully to fight the bonds and move closer to him.
My pussy starts to flutter. My orgasm is right there.
