I’m still painfully aroused when, with one hand on my waist, he helps me into a standing position. He eases his cotton shirt down my body, the fabric whispering over my oiled skin before settling past my knees.
“There you go.” He guides my raised arms down slowly.
I didn’t even think about lowering them after the shirt slipped on. That’s how entranced I am by him.
“Skylar.” One of his arms snakes around my waist, yanking me flush against his body.
His lips are close. His body vibrates with barely restrained aggression, and…
Cruelty.
I don’t get to revel in it when he bends me over, arranging my hands on the seat of the chair again.
“What are you doing?” I pretend to fight him, wriggling while praying he never lets me go.
“Whatever it is I want.” He kicks my knees apart. “Whatever your body’s begging me to give you.”
His palm cracks against my pussy, sharp and merciless.
I howl, thrashing, desperate to close my legs. Pleasure and pain twist together until I’m delirious. “No, stop!”
“You need it.” He delivers four more sharp spanks, then lifts me, my back flush to his chest as he carries me forward.
“Why?” I’m choked, wet, and the most humiliated I’ve ever been.
“The pain. I saw how it helps you focus.” His lips brush my ear. “And I want your full attention.”
“I-I’m listening.” Every twist of my body only burns my strength away, so I sag against him, breathless.
“That’s better.” He grabs a rope hanging from one of the hooks.
In seconds, Knox has my wrists bound, and my body hauled up. We’re eye to eye, his hands cupping my cheeks.
My toes barely brush the floor.
But it isn’t the strain in my shoulders or the pull at my wrists that makes my chin wobble. It’s the panic rising in me.
“Put me down.” Each time I blink, another tear slides from my eyes. I feel so small, so helpless. “Put me down.”
“Breathe for me.” His hand around my throat isn’t there to choke me. He’s grounding me. “Breathe.”
I blink up at him. “What are you doing?”
“Trust me on this. Have I ever let you down?”
I shake my head.
“Good girl. Now. You’re up here because we need to talk. There’s one more thing I have to teach you about me.” His brows draw together. “After you answer this. What do we call the process of hanging you on a hook? In my world?”
The feel of his thumb stroking my jaw, it’s like he’s softening me. He’s steady, repetitive, never stopping even as I slump in my restraints, my lids growing heavy.
My arousal is long gone, my body begging for rest. But Knox keeps me awake enough to feel all of this.
I wouldn’t want it any other way.
“This is…where you cure them?” My throat rasps like sandpaper. My vision blurs, slipping in and out of focus. So…tired. “You hang them out to dry, right? Before you tan them?”
“So smart.” His hands cup my face, possessive, oily, and hot. “Curing comes first. You hang the hide so air touches every inch. It pulls the moisture out, stops the rot. Leave it damp, you lose it. Do it right…” His eyes flare. “…and it’s yours forever.”
