“Stay still,” he bit out.
She froze, recognizing not only the authority in his tone, but his edginess. A thrill coursed through her. She’d gotten to him.
Again.
“Get that witch’s grin off your face, Eleanor.”
Despite the fact that she saw his lips tilt ever so slightly in amusement, she responded to the flash of fire in his eyes. She wiped any traces of satisfaction from her expression. She’d forgotten her smugness in two seconds flat anyway. He looked down at her, holding her eyes in a trap, and began to slide the belt against the sides of her ribs, and then down over her belly. She was so pitched with excitement, it was like she was a sponge, absorbing every detail of him, soaking him up thirstily along with all the pleasure he gave her.
God, he was amazing.
She held her breath when the leather strap dipped lower. Her hips swayed slightly. “I told you to hold still,” he said.
Her tensed facial muscles convulsed. Their gazes held for an excruciatingly exciting moment as he rubbed the leather loop against her labia. He looked between her legs, watching the belt slide against and between the slippery folds of her outer sex. She whimpered, her thigh muscles going tight. He lifted the belt and tapped the loop against her pussy several times.
She jumped and made a choking sound as arousal tore through her. His gaze flashed up to her face.
“Turn around,” he said grimly.
“But—”
“Just do it, Eleanor.”
She spun slowly, her heart in her throat. He lifted the tail of his shirt over her ass. She heard him groan behind her. He grasped a buttock.
“You made yourself pink. You’re so bad. Aren’t you?” he asked thickly as he massaged her ass lewdly. Suddenly, he flicked the loop of the belt against her bottom. She jumped and made a squeaking noise. The belt landed again, making her skin burn. She instinctively started to walk away, but he caught her upper arms, holding her in place. His hands slid down to her wrists. He grasped them together in one large hand at the small of her back, restraining her.
“You can dish it out, but you can’t take it?” he asked her, and despite the roughness of his voice, she heard his amusement.
She flashed him a defiant glance over her shoulder. “I can take it,” she assured.
“Good. Because you’ve been very, very bad, Eleanor. You’re teasing is getting out of hand.” Her heart jumped at that. “Lean forward, but only slightly. Pop your butt back. I know you know how to do that,” he said sarcastically, referring to her favored dance movement. He grazed the looped belt against her buttocks gently, and she pushed back her tailbone several inches, presenting her bottom. He groaned roughly. He snapped the belt against her skin.
She whimpered and quivered. It stung, but in truth, he didn’t strike her much harder than she’d been whipping herself during her striptease. She rested her chin on her shoulder, watching him fixedly and biting her lower lip. He lifted his hand and struck her ass with the belt several more times. He flipped his wrist as he did it, whisking the leather back and forth, from one side of the loop to the other, snapping the leather surely until her bottom seemed to radiate prickly heat and her legs grew shaky.
Once again, she was the focused target of his easy mastery in the bedroom, the way he positioned her with so much confidence and strength, the way he punished and pleasured her flesh with outrageous certainty. Watching his rigid face as he watched himself flick the leather strap against her ass aroused her unbearably. She was disappointed—actually disappointed—when he told her to turn around and face him. She followed his instructions, feeling the burn of her ass . . . the sizzle of her clit.
He arched his eyebrows. “Where did you put that dildo?” he asked her. Her gaze betrayed her, flickering to the table and chair at the left. He lifted his hand. The loop of the leather caressed the sensitive strip of skin just above her mons. Her quivering amplified. He gently tapped her labia with the belt, just over her clit. Air shot out of her lungs. She trembled uncontrollably.
He was killing her.
He hitched his chin toward the chair where she’d placed the dildo.
“Go and get it,” he said.
She went to the chair and picked up the rubber cock. She repressed a frown as she walked back to him. A smile flickered across his mouth.
“You’re disappointed, aren’t you? You were planning to use it in your dance to torture me. You just hadn’t gotten around to it yet, had you?”
She came to a halt several feet away from him and feigned a bright smile. “You wouldn’t have liked that?” she asked, letting her fingers glide across the shaft of the dildo. She tugged firmly at the defined rim of the cockhead. Triumph raced through her when she saw how he watched with narrowed eyelids as she fondled the fake cock.
“I’m going to like this more. Come over here. Stand in front of me.”
Her feet moved automatically at his tone, despite her show of defiance. He reached into his front jeans’ pocket and removed what appeared to be a small jar. He opened it and dipped his finger into it.
“Oh,” Eleanor gasped when he matter-of-factly reached between her legs and started rubbing a dollop of cream directly onto her clit. She shuddered at the unexpected jolt of pleasure. “What are you doing?”
“Stay still,” he murmured. “It’s a clit sensitizer.”