“Come here. Now.” He pointed to the edge of his bed and tapped one foot.
She crept over, looking suspicious, and rightly so. He had every intention of spanking her.
“Bend over the bed.” He pointed a finger at the spot he wished her to be.
Protest and outrage flashed in her lovely eyes, but she did as he commanded.
“Hands flat on the bed by your head. Good girl. Now, when you wish to ask me something and we’re alone, you first acknowledge our relationship by addressing me as ‘Sir’. For example, ‘may I use your shower, Sir?’ To which I reply, ‘yes you may.’ Because you are new to this, only five pats. Count them for me or I will start over. When I’m done, you will thank me for your punishment.”
A heartbeat of silence, then, “Yes, Sir.”
He was tempted to pull her boxers down, to feel satiny skin beneath his palm, but she wasn’t ready for that. He put his hand on her, and she tensed. Then he swung his hand down on her bottom. He didn’t strike hard at all, just gave her a little sting. He caressed each spot he struck, letting her count the gentle blows with trembling pants. When he reached five he smoothed his hand over her, delighted to feel her heated skin through the thin cotton of the boxers.
Was she ready for more? He moved his hand down between her legs and cupped her mound, pressing the heel of his palm against the soft fabric. Wetness seared him through the thin cloth. Sophie whimpered and jolted when he found her swollen clit and circled it with his index finger. The hardened bud of her arousal called to him, lured him, promising sweet release inside her body. But he couldn’t take her yet; she wasn’t ready for his type of sex—for the raw, savage need that blazed inside him like a wildfire devouring a dry forest.
“Take your pleasure. Push back, ride my hand.” His voice scraped over his throat, almost guttural as he tried to rein in his own hunger.
She needed little urging to circle her hips, rubbing against his hand. She found a rhythm and when she came, it was with a strangled gasp as she buried her face in the comforter on the bed.
“Th-thank you, Sir.” It was so quiet and muffled by the bed that he thought he might have imagined it. As though she was startled by the fact that she’d climaxed.
Emery’s hand tingled as he stroked her soothingly. “There will be times, Sophie, when I punish you. I won’t ever mark you, or hurt you. A slight taste of pain can heighten pleasure. Never think I mean to harm you. Do you understand? Sometimes a spanking isn’t about punishment, but about pleasure.”
It was crucial that she understood. He didn’t indulge enough in the lifestyle to have many rules or expectations. He didn’t want her cowering, head bowed. But he did want her to give up herself to him, for the pleasure they could share. If she could understand that, they would get along well.
“Yes, I understand.” Sophie shifted, her bottom rolling restlessly beneath his touch.
He removed his hand and stepped back, focusing on breathing through his nose. He was so hard he could barely walk, but he had to see to her first. Helping her to stand on shaking legs, he led her to his shower. He gave her everything she needed to bathe and with a quick, rough kiss, left her alone.
The second he shut his bedroom door he leaned back against it, drawing in slow, deep breaths. His hands were shaking, his body tense and aching to finish what he’d started. Never before had a woman’s body been so alluring, so irresistible, as Sophie’s had. Her passion had unfurled like petals seeking the sun, all at the right pats and strokes from his hands, as though she were made for him.
Emery attempted to focus on the LI board as he dressed and left his room, on what he’d need to talk to them about, and how he’d handle Brant if his cousin decided to make trouble with the press release issue. But his thoughts continued to stray back to the woman he’d left behind. He wished thoughts of business would kill his sexual hunger for Sophie. But they didn’t. She was on his mind, her scent on his skin, her cries of release still ringing in his ears. He wanted nothing more than to walk back into his room, drag Sophie into his arms and topple them both onto the bed. And that need, that ache to be with her and forget the rest of the world was the worst thing he could give in to.
The last person he’d dared to be close to had been his twin.
Fenn.
And he was gone. Everyone he cared about had left him. His parents had abandoned their family estate after Emery escaped and came home. They’d left the last place his brother and he had been together. Their leaving was a betrayal, one that cut soul deep. He’d been too young to argue when they’d made him go with them to their new home, but after college he’d moved back to the house by himself. It was so easy to hide away from the world, but it was lonely, so damn lonely. But better to stay here, protected and alone, than out there in the world losing everyone he cared about.
He shouldn’t have given in to his need to bring Sophie here.
Emery couldn’t allow himself to be so foolish with Sophie. She’d leave, and he’d be alone again, too afraid to go out into the world to be with her. Doomed always to be alone.
My penance, Fenn’s sacrifice. His life for mine. Always.
Chapter 8
MIRANDA ANDELLIOTLOCKWOOD HAVE OFFERED A $50,000 REWARD FOR ANY INFORMATION THAT WILL LEAD TO THE RETURN OF THEIR GOLDEN-HAIRED SONS.PICTURES OF THE MISSING CHILDREN HAVE BEEN INCLUDED WITH THIS ARTICLE IN HOPES THAT SOME READER WILL HAVE SEEN THE TWINS AND THAT SUCH INFORMATION WILL LEAD TO THEIR SAFE AND SPEEDY RECOVERY.
—New York Times, June 10, 1990
Sophie leaned back against the shower wall for support. Her body was a stranger to her, betraying her with an orgasm so powerful she’d been unable to breathe, to speak. Her mind had blacked out. She’d been aroused by Emery’s punishment, been on fire when he’d caressed her clit and massaged her mound.
It had turned her into some sort of wild animal, needing release with a maddening intensity. She’d shamelessly used him to get what she’d wanted, and had hoped he’d use her in return, but he’d escorted her to the bathroom and abandoned her when all she’d wanted was for him to stay and hold her.
Am I crazy?
To want a man who’d spanked her to hold her and comfort her after a mind-blowing orgasm brought on by being punished?
