“Origin story.” Blade’s voice rumbles from behind me. “We’ve all got one.”
“Yeah?” I twist to watch him organize his toys like the evil sadist in a torture scene.
“Yep.” He nods, giving my body a slow up and down. “Hope Zed knows how lucky he is.” I blush and smile at this easy, open appreciation. After a few seconds of eye contact, he looks at his array of tools. “So. You ready for this?”
I nod, my pulse skipping all over the place.
“Can I hear you say it, please, Twilight?”
“Yes. I’m ready.”
“All right. And you know the camp safe word?”
“Red.”
“You said you’re new to this?” At my nod, he says, “Look at this, please.”
The instrument he shows me reminds me of a horse’s tail, with a black handle and bright red leather or suede fringe. It’s thick and evil-looking, the strips of leather wider than the others on the table. “I’ll start soft. Just your butt.”
I nod again, shut my eyes hard, and wait.
I hear the swish of leather before it touches me. When it does, there’s none of the pain I expected. Just a light, smooth, back and forth swish. It’s not unpleasant.
“You good?” Blade leans in so I can see him.
“Yeah. Yes. It’s fine.”
“Fine?” He chuckles. “Geez. Kill me with compliments, why don’t you?”
I smile and shift, wondering if I’m supposed to do anything, like maybe stick my ass out or, I don’t know, react more? Act, maybe, like I’m on stage? “What, um, should I be doing?”
Blade lifts one thick black brow. “Seriously?”
My face goes hot with embarrassment. “Total newbie here.”
“Right.” He moves in, his smell a nice citrussy musk that does absolutely nothing for me, although this close, the fine lines around his eyes give him a touch of seriousness that I like. And then there’s his rich, deep voice, which he uses to amazing affect by telling me to “Just lie there and take it. That’s your only job. Enjoy it. Or not. Let me know when you’ve had enough.”
“That’s it?”
“You know what, darling? You and your Dom might want to have a talk.”
Your Dom.At those words, my nerves do an involuntary shimmy, which I immediately tamp down. “I don’t have a Dom.”
With a sexy low chuckle, he flicks his wrist, doing a quick figure eight in the air.
“Anywhere you don’t want me to touch?”
I shake my head.
“Go on, let me hear it.”
“No. Will it hurt?”
“You want it to?”
People slow and stop, watching, with varying degrees of interest. Being on the receiving end of all that attention is equal parts nerve-wracking and exciting.
I squeeze my eyes shut against their stares and reply, “I’m not sure.” I breathe deep, let the nerves fill me, then shove them out until there’s only excitement. It’s not sexual, exactly. But there’s definitely titillation. “Yeah.”
