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hand, wrapped it once around his palm, the silky length like a rope to hold her in place. Then he swatted her ass, his fingers landing squarely on the crease between her thighs.
    Lola moaned, and her body began to tremble.
    He had no clue how he would stop himself from coming right along with her when she reached her climax.
    * * *
    INTENSE SENSATION ROCKETED THROUGH HER JUST THE WAY HE’D said it would. Lola gasped for breath, her entire body tensing, tightening, shuddering.
    It was the slap on the outside, the heat of his fingers on her, and the rock and roll of those deliciously cold, dirty little balls inside her. It was like a cock hitting her G-spot except that the balls moved separately, eliciting completely different and totally incredible sensations.
    “Oh God, Coach.” She wasn’t supposed to speak, but there was no way she could stop.
    He smacked her butt and caressed her pussy simply with the angle of his hand. Over and over. He never entered her, never stroked her clitoris. But he drove her mad. Until she honestly couldn’t remember her own name. Until she could no longer cry out his. Until she was panting and moaning, pushing back against him, increasing the pressure inside, forcing his slaps to be harder, more potent, mind-altering.
    When he pulled on the chain, setting the balls into greater motion, she thought she’d faint. Then he swatted her again, and they went deeper, slip sliding over her G-spot.
    Her climax was like a wave crashing over her head, dragging her down, tumbling her around, over, under. Her eyes leaked tears, her pulse pounded in her ears.
    Then she found herself on the hardwood floor, her body slumped against his, her face smashed to his chest. The balls lay on the floor beside them, still wet with her orgasm.
    “Oh my God,” she whispered.
    “That was punishment,” he answered.
    If it was, she knew she had to make sure the twins were very, very bad.

4
    PROPPED AGAINST THE SIDE OF THE SOFA, HE BASKED IN THE HEAT of her body and the afterglow of her climax.
    “Can I speak now?”
    He should probably say no. “Yes.” She didn’t move, simply lay boneless against his chest. He liked her there.
    “Why do you enjoy doing that?”
    Women always wanted to know why. Sometimes there was no answer, at least not one he could explain properly. “Did you like it?”
    She’d already admitted it verbally and physically. Why try to deny now? “Yes.”
    “That’s why I enjoy it. Because it’s pleasurable.”
    “But there are plenty of other things that are pleasurable.”
    True. “I like the power in it. It’s like when a woman sucks a man’s cock, she holds all the power, and it’s sexy as hell.”
    She snorted and leaned back against the support of his arm to look up at him. “Women don’t have power when they give a man a blow job.”
    He enjoyed the pucker of her lips when she said the word. “Like hell they don’t. When a woman has a man’s cock in her mouth, she owns him. He’ll do anything she wants.” He’d proposed to his ex-wife while she was sucking him. Not that it was a bad thing, but she’d gotten what she wanted with her skills as a cocksucker.
    At the advanced age of forty-five, however, he’d learned to control a woman even when his cock was in her mouth.
    Lola tried to follow his logic. “So when a man’s spanking a woman, he owns her.”
    “It’s the one doing the spanking who holds the power. The hand can hurt or it can bring pleasure. And a little of both can be immeasurably satisfying.”
    She digested that for a time. “I still don’t see how spanking is the only way for a man to get power. If that’s what you’re really after.”
    He shifted slightly, easing the pressure on his tailbone. “It’s not the only way, just one of them. But more than power, I simply enjoy things on the kinky side. Tying up. Blindfolding. Having my wicked way.”
    “What about whipping and caning and”—she stopped, blinked—“and all that other nasty