I don’t want to share.
He doesn’t either.
“You sure, Mac?” I trace my fingers along my neckline, gently fingering the swell of my cleavage. “Wouldn’t you like to watch another man take me? You could sit right there on the chaise, drink your glass of?—”
But I’m quickly silenced with a punishing kiss, his lips bruising mine, as he lifts me up in his arms and stalks to said chaise nearer the fire.
I bounce a bit when he drops me unceremoniously on it.
“Don’t you ever fucking joke like that again,” he says with a growl, before he divests me of my blanket and flips me over onto my side. “I don’t watch,” he says, before he slams his palm across my arse so hard I gasp. “I don’t share,” he says, with another punishing smack. “Do you understand me?” Each word is bitten out and underscored with a crack of his palm. I’m gasping, my backside throbbing, as I look up at him, humbled and excited.
A little part of me feels like I should protest, but I feel far more drawn to…more.
“Oh, aye,” I say with a nod. “Quite clearly, handsome.”
I’m most definitely not cold now. I'm warmed through, as if I've been sitting in front of that roaring fire just inches away from me. My skin tingles, every inch of me on fire. His eyes burn with an intensity I hadn’t yet seen, but I'd walk across hot coals to see again. I’m the utter focus of his gaze, as if everything else in the world fades away except the two of us, under the light of the moon, heated only by the flame of fire beside us.
“On your back,” he growls, as he reaches for the clasp of the thick leather belt he wears about his waist. I flip over, not taking my eyes off of him, as he drops to his knees before me. He spreads my legs open and eyes me hungrily, and I watch as he swallows, like he’s a starving man who’s just stumbled upon a feast.
With a tug, his belt slithers through the loops. He fists his belt buckle, then wraps the leather around his fist to form a makeshift strap.
“You’ve never been spanked,” he says, the look on his face definitely telling me he has every plan of giving me the real deal. “So I’ll assume you’ve never been strapped either.”
I shake my head dumbly from side to side. The little spanking he gave me was surprisingly hot, but… I’m not exactly sure how I’d feel about anything more than that.
With my legs spread wide open, he lowers his mouth to my inner thighs.
“You teased me with these thighs earlier today, didn’t you?” I nod, still unable to speak. I’m acutely conscious of the leather that dangles from his fist.
“You shouldn’t tease a man, Bryn,” he says, shaking his head. He bends his mouth to my legs and kisses my thighs, running his lips along my curves, and my private, secret places throb with anticipation. “But I think you like teasing, don’t you?”
I don’t know how to respond, and it doesn’t look like he’s looking for a response anyway, because he’s suckling the damp flesh between my thighs. He lifts his head, shakes it from side to side, and keeps his eyes on me as he skates his hand along my thigh. He flicks his wrist, and the tip of leather bites at my clothedbreast. I blink and gasp, but before I can recover, he strikes me again, and again, each one a fraction harder than the one before.
He pauses, goes back to my legs, and grazes his chin along the tender, supple skin. I groan at the rough feel of his prickly whiskers between my thighs, my eyelids fluttering closed when I’m overwhelmed with varying sensations.
There’s a clawing, throbbing need between my legs, and I’m hot and cold as he blows a breath along my inner thighs. My skin burns then cools with the flickering fire and whisper of wind. We’re engulfed in the quiet sounds of night, the hum of a locust, and the rustling of trees in the wind.
“Part your legs, sweetheart.” The heat of his voice washes over me. I part them further, and he lifts them so my knees bend, draping them over his shoulders.
I’m not a virgin, but the men I’ve been with didn’t know how to please a woman. They were young and foolish, self-centered enough to take what was theirs and leave me hanging out to dry. They barely knew how to last and left me with a dismal impression of sex.
But Mac might ruin me for good.
He hasn’t touched my sex or even so much as my clothed breasts, but I’m already so ready for him I’m fucking panting. My pulse races like I’ve just run a marathon, and the need between my legs grows with every second that passes.
He kisses the fabric between my legs, and my hips jerk, I’m that sensitive to his touch. He grins against my leg and brushes it with his stubble again, as he drags his thumb between my fabric-covered slit between my legs.
Oh God oh God oh God.
My eyes flutter closed, but the next second I feel him tighten before there’s awhapacross my chest, and my eyes spring open.
“What?” I gasp.
“Eyes on me.”
“I can’t shut them?”
He flicks the leather again, and I hiss out a breath as another flare of pain tingles across my skin.
