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The smack came down hard again. He was exploring her skin with the flat of his hand, but there was such care taken. He peppered her but never struck the same place too many times. Every place he smacked flared with pain and then sent a shiver through her as the pain morphed into something more.
This wasn’t abuse. She couldn’t seem to explain that to V. This was something that called to her, something that other people might not get. It was something that connected her to Sebastian. Even as she wept at the pain, let the emotion flow over her, she could feel the connection to her Dom.
Her Dom. For now.
Fire licked along her flesh and she cried out. He hadn’t told her to be silent, so that very likely meant he enjoyed the sounds of his submissive. She cried out as he pushed her harder. The last five were damn near unbearable, but she took a deep breath, allowing each smack to sink in. Even the tears felt good when she thought about it. Emotion was never wasted. Crying now would relax her, express her anxiety.
And maybe teach her to not be late. It was rude when she’d known damn well he wanted to leave.
Sebastian needed his control. She had to think of him, too. She couldn’t simply think of her own needs. That might work if all she wanted was to hop into bed with him, but she needed more. She wanted to try with him and that meant she had to be good for him, too. If he needed to be on time, she needed to make an effort.
She would find out if he would give back to her, too.
Sebastian stepped away and she could hear him take a long breath. “That’s all. You did very well. Now stand up and let’s finish. You will thank me for my discipline and we can continue with our day.”
Our day. She liked the sound of that. She forced herself to stand, feeling the ache in both her backside and deep in her pussy. She took the shorts he offered her and stepped into them. The connection she’d felt seemed to have washed away and now he was chilly again as he rolled down his shirt sleeves and refastened the buttons on his wrists.
But it was only the first day and she hadn’t performed the way she would have liked. Time. They needed time and patience. She buttoned the fly on her shorts and tried to wipe away her tears before she looked up at him. “Thank you, Sir. Thank you for the discipline. I will try not to make us late again.”
She wanted more, but she had to be patient. She wanted him to put his arms around her and soothe her, but they weren’t there yet.
From what she could tell, Sebastian hadn’t had a real relationship since he’d lost his legs. He was sensitive about them. She had to gently extract that thorn before her lion would start purring for her.
He slipped the suit coat on. “You’re welcome. Shall we?”
She nodded but looked back at her easel as she gathered her purse. That was the hard thing to leave behind, but it wasn’t practical and she likely wouldn’t have time to paint anyway. “I’m ready.”
Sebastian followed her gaze. “And your art? You’re leaving it?”
She sniffled. “I probably won’t have time to work on it. It’s all right. It’s big and difficult to move around. I’ll sketch some but I’ll survive. Besides, I don’t have any canvases right now anyway. I finished one up yesterday.”
She’d finished a canvas of a man in greens and blues. A man who stood tall, even without his legs. She’d moved it into her tiny office to let it finish drying, but mostly because it was a damn window into her soul and Sebastian wasn’t ready to see how she viewed him yet.
“Do you want the easel?” he asked quietly.
It eased her anxiety. It brought her peace and calm. “Yes, but it would be a bother to bring.”
“I’ll carry it down. There’s plenty of room. Gather your supplies. I’m sure we can find what you lack in Fort Worth,” he said decisively. “We’ll find a place for you to work as well. Hurry along.”
He struggled for a moment, but found the mechanism that allowed the easel to fold up.
And she knew she was making the right decision.
Chapter Four
Sebastian pulled the cork out of the 2014 Riesling. He poured it in his glass, noting the fine, clear color of the wine. It wasn’t an expensive vintage, but it had a high rating. 91 points on the critics’ scale. Of course that was subjective, but for the most part the big publications like Wine Spectator and Wine Advocate knew quality.
And it should pair well with the pork tenderloin Eric had been kind enough to drop off. Eric had smiled a knowing smile as he’d dropped off dinner for two and told him how nice it was going to be to have neighbors around. He and Deena were only a mile away, but when Sebastian had invited them to come over and share the dinner, Eric had declined.
Leaving Sebastian alone with the only woman he’d really desired in years. The one woman he was certain he shouldn’t want because she was as far from his idea of perfection as a woman could be.
He was stuck with her for eight weeks. Or rather she was stuck with him. Beautiful, vivacious Tiffany was going to be stuck with his dour, wounded self.
I can’t even look at you anymore, Sebastian. Do you think I want this? Do you think I want to stand in front of the town and pretend I can love you? Pretend I can want you?
He took a deep breath and tried to banish that particular voice. He could still feel the cool of the air conditioner as he’d made his plea to the woman he’d loved for so long. The woman who couldn’t stand the sight of him.
Not that she was the only one. His own mother had died while he was working in London and his sister hadn’t bothered to call and invite him to the funeral.
