“No! God, no. It isn’t that at all.”
I growl and reach for my belt. “Escalating this means spanking you harder. Punishing you more severely.”
In one quick motion, I tug the belt through the loops on my trousers, fold it over, and slap it against her arse. She squeals and arches.
“Is that what you need?”
“No!” she gasps, panting for breath. “No, Tate.” Her voice cracks. “I’ll give you anything you want. I’ll tell you the truth.” She breaks out into a sob. “All of it.”
Now we’re finally getting somewhere. If I knew she’d react like this to my belt, I’d have fucking started with it.
“What do you want to know?”
We’ll start easy.
I trail the folded leather down her punished skin.
“Tell me the truth about whether or not any of this excites you.”
That wasn’t the first question I should’ve asked, but I couldn’t help myself.
She answers quickly.
“Yes. It hurts like crazy, and I wouldn’t want to be punished like this often, but… yeah. I don’t know how to explain it, but can only say that… yes, it hurts. I hate that you’re punishing me. But… it turns me on.”
It takes something for her to confess this, I can tell.
I nod. I already knew this, but I’m pleased she’s fessing up.
“Good girl,” I say approvingly, the belt still resting against her punished arse. “Next question. Who are your contacts?”
She hesitates. “Which ones?”
“All of them.”
She releases a shuddering breath. “Aisla was my contact here, but since she’s no longer here I rely on my own observations. I’vegot a contact in the Aitkens Clan and one in Wales. I ask your sisters lots of questions.”
She starts when I growl.
Goddammit.
“Do my sisters know you write the books?”
“I… can’t tell you that. I know they suspect it, and I have reason to believe it was one of them who let Aisla go. But I’ve never told them anything, and we’ve never openly discussed it.”
Good. Now we’re really getting somewhere.
“Do you have any other books in this series coming out?”
She grimaces, but a quick slap of leather gets her telling me the truth. “Yes! Yes, I do. It’s been submitted to my publisher already and comes out in a few weeks.”
“Mother of God,” I mutter, shaking my head. Jesus. “That one won’t go to publication.”
“It’s too late,” she says with a sigh. “It’s already submitted. There’s no way to stop it. I can’t take it back now. It’s been sent out to early readers…”
The leather slices through the air with a faint whistling sound. “You will.”
She grits her teeth and whimpers. She nods.
