She ignored him, keeping her face turned away, thumping her fist on the mattress.
He smiled. She was a fierce little firebird, as always. He rolled onto his side so his body was aligned with hers and he leaned in, sheltering her from the cool air. He pulled the linens to cover her other side and rubbed her back in slow circles.
“In a little while, I’ll put lotion on you. It’ll soothe the pain.”
“I don’t require your help, Sir,” she said in a very formal tone that could’ve frozen a river to solid ice.
“Yes, you do, little pet,” he said with a smile. “The lotion will ease the ache.”
“Then I’ll apply it myself.”
His smile faded, and he allowed a little steel to enter his voice. If the charade was to continue, she needed to learn her place. “The only thing you’ll do is what I decide to allow you to do.”
“Maybe,” she whispered, and he knew exactly what that one word with its detached air meant.
He stroked her hair. “Are you more angry that you were whipped? Or that you weren’t fucked after the whipping?”
The raw language caused a sharp intake of breath. She turned her head so her stunning face was quite close to his own. He could see the tiny drops of moisture on her lashes, the reddened tip of her nose, the salty tracks on her cheeks. Dead realms, she was beautiful in her distress. His hard cock wanted to bury itself in her soft tight depths.
“You are outrageous. Of course, I’m angry about the whipping.”
“Of course,” he said mildly, noting the aroused dilation of her pupils.
“You’re wicked,” she added, her lovely gold-flecked eyes narrowing.
“That is the general opinion of those who know me well.”
The corners of her mouth threatened to curve up, but she suppressed the hint of a smile. “What made you that way?”
His thumb brushed her cheek. “I don’t know.”
“Well, perhaps you should try harder to hold yourself in check.”
“Or perhaps I should purchase a pet so I don’t need to. Oh, wait, that is exactly what I do.” Unable to resist, he slid his hand down and gripped her ass.
She sucked in a breath and arched against him. “Don’t,” she gasped, trying to wiggle out of his hand.
“Look at me,” he said, still holding her inflamed bottom, enjoying the feel of its heat against his palm.
She stared into his eyes.
He released her soft swollen globe and moved a hand up to her back.
“Tell me how you feel right now. Other than sore.”
“Intrigued,” she whispered.
He closed his eyes and took a slow breath. Of all the words... that was not one he would ever be able to resist or forget now that it had been uttered from the most beautiful mouth in the world.
“I want to know why,” she added softly. “Why it excites you to tie a girl up and whip her.”
“For the same reason it excites you.”
“It doesn’t,” she lied.
“Sir?” another voice said, breaking in on their private conversation.
Both their heads turned to find Holly and Altis, the actual master in residence, standing at the end of the bed cushion.
