This would be a painful reminder to stay the hell away from Campbell, and it had to be. The run could cut their time down to nothing, and Seychelle had to be ready. She was nowhere near that, nowhere near taking what he would have to dish out. He wasn’t certain what he would do if time really did run out on them.
Savage didn’t follow Seychelle right out onto the main porch for a few reasons. He wanted the cool air to seep into her body. That would heighten every stroke of the cane as it lashed across her flesh. She would worry endlessly about someone driving up and seeing her stretched out naked on their verandah. Every second would seem like an hour to her. He wanted to see if she would stay there waiting for him in spite of what she would perceive as a danger. The longer she was there, the more she would be convinced that someone would come—and she had every reason to worry.
Torpedo Ink members came and went all the time. No one thought to call first. They just showed up. If he was fucking her on the porch, they’d walk right up, either start talking or drop into a chair and put their feet up—unless it was Storm. He’d most likely get himself off. Savage almost wished one of his brothers would show up. Better here at the house than all of them on the run together for her first time.
There were going to be others around them when he fucked her. She’d be naked in front of them. He wanted her to see that others were naked, and no one thought anything about it, but it was better at home, where he could make her feel safe. He thought about texting one or two of the brothers to stop by but thought better of it.
Seychelle was learning about herself—about her body and what she desired sexually. She was confused and trying to accept her darker needs. She really didn’t want others witnessing what went on between the two of them. She thought she could handle open sex in front of them, but not his punishments and not his whipping and not the other things he loved to do to her before he fucked her brains out.
Savage took his time changing into his soft drawstring pants that gave his cock ample room to expand before he took his favorite cane out onto the long, wide porch. The view was so much better with his woman draped over the wide railing, her ass in the air, toes barely touching the flooring, her tits mashed on the wooden plank while her head was over the side. Both hands held the decorative spindles tightly.
He stepped close and rubbed her bare cheeks. Her skin was cool, but heat came off her pussy in waves. She was slick, glistening with moisture. He ran his finger through her tight little slit and licked at the strawberry-scented cream. “Guess you like the thought of your punishment, Seychelle. Were you out here thinking of all the things you did wrong?”
“I was speeding.”
He continued to rub her bottom. His gaze went to her face. Her eyes. She was watching the drive just as he knew she would be. She was more worried about someone coming to the house than she was about her punishment. “You were. And you weren’t paying attention to the lanes either, were you?”
She swung her head, trying to push back, looking indignant, but he held her down with a hand between her shoulder blades. “What was the one thing you did that you really know you shouldn’t have been doing?”
He continued rubbing her bare cheeks, this time dipping his fingers into her heat to idly paint the liquid between her cheeks, back and forth in a mesmerizing glide.
Seychelle hesitated, her head dropping straight down, eyes turning toward the ground below them. A whistle was the only warning heralding the cane as it arced through the sky and then across her pretty little upturned ass. He knew exactly what that felt like. At first, nothing. Then a line of fire lighting up her world. It was never that first line of fire that really hurt, but the second wave as the burst of agony registered with the tissue and muscle beneath the skin.
He’d gone easy on her, careful of how much strength he’d put into his swing. She let out a wail, but she didn’t try to move away from the railing. His heart pounded, went into overdrive. Every single day, he knew Seychelle had been made for him. He rubbed her cheeks, ran his nail over that stripe, adding to the fire. This one she might feel tomorrow, although it was fairly light. Any other stripes he put there he would make certain she felt but wouldn’t last long on her skin. Not yet. This was new, and he didn’t want the effects to last too long.