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He inhaled audibly and held it for a second. His grip on her wrists tightened, scaring and turning her on at the same time. The heat of his cock vanished as he put space between them. The swoosh of leather told her he’d freed his belt from his jeans. She started shaking more. She bit her lip and pinched her eyes shut. Did she bite off more than she could chew, this time?
A drawn-out silence followed. What was he going to do to her?
Thwack!
The first lash came as a shock. The leather connected with her sensitive skin, making her jump with a shrill scream. Her glasses dropped to the seat of the couch. She wiggled in his grasp, trying to get away, but he only locked down harder, cutting off her blood flow. The second swat followed soon, giving her little time to find her breath. She screamed louder. Unable to hold back the tears, any longer, she let them go.
The lashes hurt, but in a good way. Her skin was on fire. She welcomed the pain, craved it. A strange feeling of relief overwhelmed her as another and another swat crisscrossed over her burning bottom. She wasn’t sure if her sobs were because of the spanking or because of the unknown emotion that squeezed her chest, but giving in to her tears expanded her lungs in a way that made breathing easier.
The steady rhythm of Ivan’s lashes soon had her going into a state of floating bliss where the pain turned into need. She relaxed in her holder’s grip, her knees caving in. Her sobs and screams intermingled with moaning and panting.
By the time the lashes stopped falling, she’d long since ceased counting. The belt hit the carpet with a soft thud. Ivan’s cock was back at her entrance, the thick head parting her folds.
“Please,” she begged, everything inside of her tight with need.
She was so wet, he slipped in effortlessly, burying himself to the hilt with one thrust. He pulled back and repeated the action. Over and over, his groin slapped against her burning ass. Letting go of her wrists, he moved a hand around the front of her body to massage her clit in circular movements while he took her with strokes as steady as his lashing.
“Harder.” She grinded against him. “More.”
He quickened his pace, but it wasn’t enough. She pushed back, taking as much as she could.
He grunted and cursed, and then he snapped. He took her fast and hard, wasting no time in coming, but neither did she. She screamed out her orgasm while he held her to him, his fingers digging into her hips. He didn’t ease up until she collapsed under him, her body folding double over the armrest. Only then did he pull out, adjust his pants, and settle on the couch with her in his lap.
The urge to cry didn’t stop. The tears kept on coming as if she’d accumulated a dam full of them.
He pushed her head against his chest and rocked her in his arms. “Shh, Princess.” He gently stroked her hair. A soft kiss landed on the top of her head. “You’re wrong. I care about nothing but you, and it took the opposite of a coward to walk away.”
“Even if I believed you,” she said through her sobs, “I’ll never live with a performer.”
“I’m not your mother.”
“You’re all the same. Scrap that. Rock stars are worse.”
“Meaning what?”
“You’re like vampires. You stay young forever while your women age. There will always be someone younger and prettier.”
He chuckled. “You’re insecure.” He lifted her chin and planted a tender kiss on her lips. “We’ll have to work on that.”
She stared defiantly at him through her tears. “I’m realistic.”
He kissed her nose. “I’m going to screw you into changing your mind about all that.”
Wiggling from his arms, she got to her feet.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to be alone.”
“No, you don’t, not after what we just did.”
“What was that?” she asked, not entirely sure herself. She still hovered between euphoria and sorrow. “Punishment for calling you a coward?”
“An outlet for your pent-up frustration. You know I would’ve stopped if you’d asked.”
Yes, she did. The fact that she wanted him to punish her was confusing. Was she crazy? Perverted? What confused her even more was that she hated him so much right now while simultaneously craving his care. She needed time to process all of this. She picked up her glasses and headed for the door.
“Stay. Please.”
She turned her head back to him quickly.
“I want you so much it’s killing me,” he said.
She escaped to the bathroom to clean up. He stood by the door when she exited but didn’t try to stop her. His gaze followed her, his expression broody as she walked from his suite.
“Can I get you a cab, Miss Jones?” the doorman asked.
