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that pale skin would look after a good paddling. He’d repressed the urge but as the months passed it became an almost overwhelming need. Toward the end, he’d had to clench his hands around the bedposts to keep from smacking the delicate flesh.
    There’d be no fighting the urge tonight.
    He palmed the plump, rounded cheeks and she flinched. He leaned down and brushed his lips over the curve of her ass. “I’m glad you’re here. Thank you for trusting me.”
    There’d been a moment when he’d been sure she’d walk. That one suspended minute when the desire to flee gleamed bright in her eyes. Pure hell. All he’d wanted was to go to her, cuddle her close and promise he’d do whatever was necessary to keep her. But he couldn’t do that, and forced himself to stay still.
    Any other action would be a lie. And he’d stopped lying that night at her house two weeks ago.
    “I’m scared,” she said, her voice nothing but a soft rasp.
    “I know you are.” He studied the pretty pink staining her cheekbones, those full parted lips, the way her curls fanned across the black leather. The perfect picture of submission. If she wasn’t new to this he’d get his camera and capture the expression on her face so she could see it for herself. But there’d be time for that later—if she chose to stay.
    He rubbed his hands in circles over her soft, pale skin, increasing his pressure in incremental amounts. Her expression closed. Lids pinched tightly shut as those lush lips closed. She wiggled her hips. Tensed her shoulders and frowned, sending all sorts of signals she wasn’t happy.
    He ignored them in favor of the best test of her true feelings about her helplessness. When his fingers slid, effortless, through the wet folds, he bit back a groan. Fuck. She was wet. More than wet. Slippery as hell.
    He placed his free hand on her back and swirled over her clit. Her hips jerked and a muffled, strangled sound came from the top of the bench.
    The body never lied.
    Transfixed by her spread thighs, he wanted that pink cunt so badly he could taste it, open to him like an invitation even while she continued to squirm.
    Betraying none of his almost savage lust, he asked casually, “Tell me, are you unhappy lying here? Spread out, waiting to have your ass smacked?”
    “Yes,” she squeaked, twisting as though to get away.
    He thrust first one then two fingers inside her tight pussy. “Then why do you think you’re excited?”
    Her hands clenched where they rested by her head and she tried to close her legs.
    “Legs apart.” He slapped her thigh, not hard but enough to reinforce his point.
    Instantly she went still. Her nails scraped across the leather.
    That ass, pushed high in the air, taunted him. He wanted nothing more than to fuck her ruthlessly. But that would have to wait. He had a lesson to teach. A lesson she was apparently enjoying as much as him. A rush of pleasure and hope threatened to consume him but he contained it.
    He couldn’t get ahead of himself. Ahead of her.
    “Answer me,” he said, plunging into her silky heat.
    She moaned, her knuckles turning white as they curled around the edge of the seat. “Mason.”
    He pressed hard and high, stroking her G-spot, increasing his pressure until she trembled. Her hips bucked, and to his surprise, her inner muscles clamped. He slowed his pace, changing his pressure on her clit until it was barely more than a tease. “No orgasms for you yet, girl.”
    She made a low annoyed noise, her lids snapped open. She craned her neck, peering over one smooth ivory shoulder to shoot him a dark glare.
    She’d always required meticulous care to bring to orgasm, so to find her on the brink and greedy enough to make silent demands was an unexpected pleasure. He raised a stern brow and looked down at her, fighting the grin twitching at the corners of his lips. “Did you just glare at me?”
    If anything, her gaze grew more defiant, her chin tilting. Then she did the damnedest, most