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“Breathe,” he coached, caressing her skin with his thumb. “Relax, and breathe.”
She inhaled and focused on her breath. It helped push away the twinge in her chest from the intimacy of his whisper, from the gentleness of his touch.
He was still hard enough to thrust, deeper and deeper without leaving her pussy between strokes, and soon another orgasm rose within her and burst amid the rippling waves of the first.
When the contractions stopped, he pulled out of her slowly, took hold of her wrists, and began to unfasten the restraints. “Leave them,” she said. “More.”
“More?” He ran his fingers over the welts on her ass. “It was already too much.”
“It wasn’t.”
“But don’t you hurt enough?” His bewilderment was audible.
Enough?That would be impossible. “Please.”
She heard shuffling and felt him behind her legs once more. Anticipation coursed through her, turning into solace as the sting of his belt or whatever he was using spread upward from her ass, along her spine, dulling the ache in her chest, her mind, her heart.
He hit her hard and repeatedly, until she was floating, sinking, for some indefinable period of time, somewhere else.
A few droplets of the heavy water she felt submerged under seeped from her eyes. And then his hand was on her back, his body leaning over hers so she could feel his heat by her shoulder and his whisper in her ear. “Okay, we’re taking a break.”
He unfastened her wrists and removed the blindfold.
Her legs quivered as he helped her take a few steps away from the sofa to the rug, where she lay down on her side. A shiver prompted her to cross her arms over her chest, and he kneeled and reached for the throw blanket she kept draped over the couch. He covered her with it and put one of the softer cushions by her head.
When she didn’t move, he carefully lifted her head at the temple with his palm and slid the pillow under her. She closed her eyes and felt him stretch out behind her, close but not touching.
As if by instinct, not choice—because she should not want this; she would not let herself want this—she scooted back until she felt him through the thin cotton of the blanket, until the soothing heat of his skin reached her and drew her body to his.
6
THE RIGHT ANSWER IS "NO, THANK YOU."
Afamiliar TSA agent waved him through security without having to take off his shoes. “Have a good trip, Mr. Jaines,” he said, pushing the gray bin with Jonathan’s laptop down the conveyor belt toward him.
At the gate, he and his team found a row of unoccupied seats, most with cracked blue cushions. The cushions weren’t cracked in the frequent flier lounges, but since he had stopped being a dick, he no longer used his free upgrades when he traveled with his staff.
They set their bags down, and he offered to watch their stuff while they scattered for food, coffee, sleep masks, magazines.
As soon as they were gone, his mind beelined to the only place it now went when he had an unoccupied nanosecond:Quinn.
Since last night, he had not been able to stop picturing her,imagining the feel of her.
The little he knew of BDSM had never done much for him; he didn’t get off on pain—inflicting or receiving—or on dominance. Others did, and that was cool as long as it was all consensual; whatever floats your boat, he didn’t judge.
It was different with her.
How she made herself so vulnerable, how she let him know what she wanted those first couple of times and then put herself in his hands, how his sole focus became pleasing her, amping up the sensation, constantly checking that she was okay—it definitely did something for him now.
After he got to her house last night, as he blindfolded her and bound her hands, the gooseflesh rose on her arms and back, and she trembled in anticipation. He knew she would be wet, but when he put his mouth to her, wet was stating it mildly.
He made her come fast; that part was strategic. He was going to take his time the rest of the night—sweet, sweet time—and let the distinct sensations he had planned build into something greater than the sum of its parts.
Into something that would drive her wild. Into the something she had sought and chosen him to give.
If circumstances were different, he would have played a little more instead. He would have teased her by asking her if she wanted the vibrator turned on again, if she wanted his cock inside her, if she wanted it harder.
He would have listened for the desire in her voice as she answered him and savored it as he probed her mouth with his tongue.
