“You really broke a few of the rules we set up between us, didn’t you, baby?”
“Yes.” She had. She disliked his entire club, and she really hadn’t liked him very much. So she’d been deliberately as disrespectful as possible to him. She knew that would set his teeth on edge, but more, if anyone was watching, or cared, he would look as if he couldn’t control her—and Savage was all about control. “I disrespected you in public.”
The way his palm moved over her bare cheek felt delicious. The stripes from the cane hurt, but in a good way now, and the way he rubbed sent heat deep. A fist of pure desire formed in her belly.
“You chose to do that in public. Fought with me in public, didn’t you, Seychelle? And worse, disrespected the president of our club.”
“Your club,” she clarified.
“Our fucking club,” he stated clearly.
Goose bumps broke out all over her skin. She had chosen to do that. She would debate with him in public. Tease him. Argue points with him. But it was wholly against her nature to fight in public with him, especially with his club members around him. What had gotten into her? That was so unlike her. She would walk away before she would ever do something like that.
“Yes,” she whispered. It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense to her anymore, with the exception of being with Savage, and that made absolutely no sense at all, yet right at that moment, he made the only sense to her. She needed him—needed this to ground her. That was how confused she was.
He rubbed her bare cheeks again. His knuckles slid between her legs, and a jolt of pure heat became a dark fist in the pit of her stomach. She knew she was slick. Already growing hot in anticipation. She had given up trying to figure out why she was the way she was. She only knew her body responded to the things Savage did to her.
Savage leaned over her, his mouth close to the nape of her neck. “I told you, and I meant it, that Czar deserved the things you said to him. I’ll take whatever he wants to dish out, not you. This is only for disrespecting me in public. Whatever you’re upset with me for, and I know there is something, we talk about in private.”
She sent him a smoldering look over her shoulder but didn’t dispute what he said. She’d agreed to his terms when they first got together. In any case, she needed to feel his hand on her.
“This is going to be intense because of the bruising from the cane. You can cry, but no screaming, Seychelle. If you need to take a break, you can slow it down, or stop it by giving me red or yellow. You get that, baby? I want you to know you can stop this.”
“It’s a punishment,” she said stubbornly. “You said there was no stopping a punishment.”
“We’re not alone, baby, and you took a severe punishment already. We’re being flexible here. So you can stop this if it gets to be too much. It’s your choice.”
Savage was careful to make everything her choice. She knew it was far more arousing to him that she chose to let him do the things to her body that he did. He wanted her to give her consent every single time. In essence, it was giving herself to him—giving him her trust every time. He seemed to need that from her.
The first smack on her left cheek was an explosion of fire that raced up her spine and down her thighs. It hurt like hell. Savage usually warmed her up first, with a series of gentler strikes. He told her how many times he was going to smack her bottom. This felt different. She didn’t know if it was the cane marks and the deeper bruising or the way he didn’t let up, his palm coming down hard on her buttocks, activating those terrible, fiery stripes.
He’d said intense. He might as well have said excruciating. She couldn’t stop the tears. She’d been determined not to cry, to give him that, when she knew he wanted her tears, but she couldn’t help it.
He paused, rubbing her bottom. “Relax into this, Seychelle. Surrender to the pain. Let it carry you away. You’re tensing up.” His voice was softer than ever, his palms spreading the fire around, until that fist in her belly grew darker and thicker. His thumb brushed her clit, and her entire body shuddered with hunger. She was drenched instantly, hungry for him. “Relax for me, angel. You like this. You need it.”
She couldn’t help responding to his voice. To that dark lust growing in her belly. The flames his thumb produced as he flicked and teased. Then he was smacking her again. Hard. The backs of her thighs. Her sit spot. The curve of each cheek. Again and again. The pain at first was agony. She was certain she would have to call out her safe word, but then she found herself drifting away. Floating on the pain. Letting it take her somewhere far away.
Tears came, but it didn’t matter; it was more of a release than sobbing because she hurt. She was floating somewhere in a space she didn’t recognize. The screaming in her head calmed, and all around her she drifted with stars. Deep in her core, the throbbing and heat came together into a swirling pool of molten liquid. She saw it burning bright in the middle of a vortex of stars, a bright, hot volcanic pond that glowed orange and red as it splashed high into the air, threatening to explode.
Her breath came in ragged, desperate pants as Savage rubbed her blazing cheeks, massaging in deep circles she felt all the way through her entire body. He slipped one finger into her wet, clenching pussy while his thumb brushed her throbbing, inflamed clit. She pushed back against his hand and he gave her a second finger.
“I don’t know how you can be so scorching hot and fucking tight, woman.”
Seychelle moved against his hand, tried to ride his fingers since he didn’t move them, just thrust them into her and then went still. Only that thumb stroked her clit, but not enough. A touch, no more, just enough to make her want to scream at him for more attention. Abruptly, he pulled his fingers free and licked them.
“On your feet, baby.”
His hands went to her waist, and he guided her gently to a standing position between his thighs. She was unsteady, her body shaking, trembling, barely able to stay upright. She caught at his thighs to keep from falling.
“Savage.”
“You needed that, didn’t you, Seychelle?”
She sank her teeth into her lower lip, tears still streaming down her face. Her bottom was on fire, but he was right: she had needed him to spank her. To ground her. Now she wanted his cock buried in her. She wanted to feel him moving in her, claiming her. She nodded, lifting her gaze to his.
He was staring at her with his blue eyes, dark with lust, watchful. Cold like a glacier. Merciless. Possessive. His fingers bit into her hips as he pulled her in tight against his body so that the tips of her breasts pressed tight to his chest. It felt as if twin matches had lit flames to her nipples, and a moan escaped before she could stop it.
He leaned forward and sipped at the tears on her face, licking at the tracks, first on the right side and then on the left, before he pulled back to look down at her. “I love how you look right now. I fucking love it, Seychelle. I want you to kneel down, right there. Right where you are. I think it’s time you learned how to suck my cock the way I like it, baby.” Savage opened his jeans and then slid off the table. He fisted the thick girth in his hand and lazily pumped, his eyes dark with lust. “Another lesson in dirty, sinful sex.”
Seychelle had always loved his cock. It was large and impressive, velvet over steel. The crown was broad, and whenever she touched it, satin soft, it leaked those pearly drops that always made her want to lick them off of him. There was a thick vein running the length of his shaft and scars that wrapped around the entire shaft, making him look even more intimidating. She knew part of the reason he liked rough sex was because his penis needed enough stimulation to be able to feel through that scarring.