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his unlocked bedroom. He knew she’d been in there too. And were there cameras…? No!
     
    “You’re familiar with this room, aren’t you?”
     
    Her eyes flew open as she twisted, trying to see. He strode through the carved door, slamming it hard behind him. Was this it, then? Would she be one of those mail-order brides murdered by their American husbands?
     
    “Blue, please,” she begged. My god, he’d her carried across the whole house, down a flight of stairs, and he hadn’t even broken a sweat!
     
    Then he was opening the second the door, the one she hadn’t unlocked. He didn’t use a key. She saw it all upside down, making it even more surreal. There was a bed in the corner, similar to the one in his room, a four-poster. Over the bed there were decorations on the wall, things reminiscent of his concert days—floggers, crops, ball-gags, handcuffs.
     
    Then he was sitting, putting her upright in front of him, pulling her into his lap. Her head swam and she clung to him, so surprised by his nearness, the way he grabbed her, touched her, after months of so much distance between them.
     
    “Where are we?” she whispered, wanting to look around more, but unable to take her eyes off his. They were dark, animalistic—and angry. She wiggled in his lap and he grabbed her hips, growling low in his throat.
     
    “Hold still,” he hissed. “Don’t make me tear this dress off you.”
     
    The blood drained from her face, heading straight between her thighs.
     
    “Blue, please,” she tried again. “I’m sorry…”
     
    “You should be.” He raised an eyebrow, challenging her, but she didn’t say another word. “Stand up.”
     
    She did, wobbly, looking for something to steady herself as she stood between his spread thighs. He didn’t help her, but he did lift her dress, smiling his approval at her cream-colored thigh-highs, the silk bikini panties and matching bra, as he pulled it over her head.
     
    To shocked to move, she shivered—the room was cold—her pulse beating time low in her belly. He looked at her, face impassive, from her toes peeking out from her sandals up to the perfectly coiffed casual mess of her blond curls.
     
    “Oh, Pet…” He swallowed, pulling her closer between his knees. “You’re so beautiful…”
     
    Then he grabbed her, turning her over his knee, making her yelp in surprise. She could hardly balance herself in his lap, but she didn’t have time to think about it before his hand came down over her ass, smacking her hard enough to make her squeal.
     
    “Blue!”
     
    “I want you to count.”
     
    “What?”
     
    He smacked her again and tears stung her eyes.
     
    “Wuh-wuh-one,” she gasped.
     
    “Good.” He smacked her again.
     
    WHACK!
     
    This time it was on the other cheek, making it sting too.
     
    “Two!”
     
    SMACK!
     
    Three, four, five.
     
    Her bottom burned. But her pussy was hotter. On fire. Just the way he grabbed her, holding her over his knees, the way his hand found a new spot every time. He pulled her panties up between the crack of her ass, exposing both rounded globes of her behind.
     
    Six, seven, eight.
     
    She squirmed, trying to get away, and the next ones were harder, longer, making tears leak from the corners of her eyes. She squeezed them shut, grabbing onto the legs of the leather chair he was perched on.
     
    Nine, ten…
     
    And then it stopped. She gasped, trying to hold still in his lap, waiting, panting. What now? Her belly clenched in fear.
     
    Then his hand moved, the lightest of touches, over her skin. It made her cry with relief. So soothing and sweet. She sobbed, feeling him caress her, gently now.
     
    “Shhhhhh.” He pulled her to him, gathering her in his arms, her bottom wedged against his crotch, and she felt how hard he was. His erection was huge through his jeans.
     
    “Blue…”
     
    “It’s almost over.” He kissed her tears and she blinked at him, her mind unable to comprehend what was