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“You’re in charge,” I say stubbornly.
The flat of his hand falls on my bottom, just hard enough to sting. “So this ass is mine? I can do anything I want with it?”
“Yes,” I say, and I try not to push against him, try not to lead. I fail.
Without warning, he shoves two fingers deep inside me. “And this soaking wet pussy? It’s mine?”
“Yes.” I vow not to twist on his hand, not to bring him deeper into my heat. I fail again.
He pulls out and finds my clit, pinching between his finger and his thumb. “And this clit? It belongs to me too?”
“Yes,” I gasp, but the admission is almost lost as I swear I won’t tighten my thighs around his wrist, in hopes he’ll pinch again. One more time, I fail.
“I don’t think you understand the concept of ownership, Princess.”
“Then teach me,” I gasp, because he knows my body. He knows what I need. He knows how to wind me tight, and how to release me, and I’ll do anything to keep him here for even one minute longer.
Somehow, I’m surprised when the leather smacks my ass. The strike sends crimson lightning up my spine, and I picture the stripes he’s just made, parallel lines left by either side of the belt.
Again, I want to beg. But Trap’s in charge. He owns me. He decides what I deserve and what I don’t deserve. He chooses exactly what to give me.
So my fists turn to marble and the cords in my throat become steel, but I don’t say it. I don’t move.
And he rewards me with another slash of the belt.
I need this. The stripes from the leather close a circuit in my skull, feeding pure bliss directly into my brain.
A third time, he strikes me.
A fourth, the hardest blow he’s ever measured out for me.
Fifth, and my legs can’t hold me anymore.
Sixth, and my belly presses against the table, my bound arms stretch in front of me, every muscle in my body goes rigid from the force of his belt against my desperate flesh.
I can’t breathe, can’t see, can’t think. All my words have melted. I’m reduced to the pure fire Trap is painting on my body, the perfect pain he’s etching on my soul.
I’m waiting for the blow that will destroy me. I’m spun and stretched and suspended in the absolute nowhere of the space between my cells. I’m nothing and everything. I’m past and present. I’m…
He drives into me from behind, his cock taking full possession of the pussy he staked a claim to, longer, harder, wider than his fingers. He pins me and he penetrates me, possesses every inch of me.
He pumps six times—once for every strike of the belt. His body is heavy on my burning ass. His thrusts drive my hip bones into the table. His arm reaches around, pulling me impossibly closer, melding our bodies into one.
I feel his forearm tense and his chest and his thighs. His fingers shift to the place where we’re joined, and he finds my clit, and he taps it—three sharp blows. He empties into me, groaning one word—come—and then he bites me, his teeth closing hard on my neck.
I obey.
I come.
I clutch around him, every muscle tighter than it’s ever been before. His pulse is mine. We’re sharing one heart, one body, and I cease to exist. I’m never going to be alone again.
Except, after an eternity, I am.
I’m cradled in Trap’s lap. His back is braced against one leg of the table. One of his hands rests on my hip. The other caresses the nape of my neck.
Slowly, carefully, I shift my weight. I stretch my legs in front of me. Trap’s arms are settled around me, and we spoon, my back to his chest, my head beneath his chin.
He covered me while I was out, pulling my yoga pants over my hips. He loosened his tie from around my wrists. He holds me now, rocking me just a little, back and forth in perfect soothing comfort.
