The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood 3)

But apparently this wasn’t the reaction he’d been hoping for, because Clay repeated the action, and this time the crack of the ruler brought fire. Pain throbbed and lingered in the aftermath of the metal biting into my skin.

“Fuck,” I swore.

His tone was sinister. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

My head spun at this version of him. Up until yesterday, he’d been my shy and quiet next-door neighbor. I’d never expected him to be assertive. Or so . . . dominating.

And, shit, I hadn’t expected to like it so much.

I wished I had known sooner, because I would have come over asking to borrow a cup of sugar. Except I would have been hoping for something other than sweetness.

He struck my ass again, hard and unapologetic and right across my cheeks, and the pain from the contact seared through me. As it radiated down my limbs, I whined and squirmed, trying to make the feeling dissipate faster.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes,” I groaned.

It was like his dark voice was inside my head. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” I said softly. My emotions were fractured, all over the place. But I felt strangely more aware and present in the moment than I ever had before. I didn’t want him to stop, but my voice was barely a whisper. “Is that weird?”

His answer was resounding and excited. “No.”

I turned as best I could to see him and marveled at the way his lips were parted so he could drag heavy air in and out of his lungs. The ruler was clenched in a white-knuckled fist at his side, and an impressive bulge pushed at the zipper of his jeans, tenting the front of them.

“You like the pain?” he asked, studying me. “Does it turn you on?”

Yes? Well, more like maybe. I didn’t know the answer with certainty, so I stuck with the truth. “I like the way you look right now.”

That was what was turning me on. How he was in complete control of what we were doing. The way he gripped the ruler at the ready and stared at me with excited urgency, willing to do what had to be done to his naughty neighbor. He was prepared to get me back in line.

I shouldn’t like what he was doing. He was hitting me hard enough to leave marks, and I was aware I was in way over my head with him. And yet, why wasn’t I nervous? Why did I feel . . . safe?

Perhaps it was because he hadn’t done anything I hadn’t agreed to or asked for. The unforgiving ruler was exactly what I’d been craving.

I had to strain over my shoulder to see him as he grabbed a handful of my skin where the raised red lines crisscrossed each other, and he squeezed until I clenched my teeth. His grip intensified the lingering ache in my sensitive, welted skin, but it was oddly pleasurable. The connection of his touch only turned me on more.

He grunted a sound of approval as he grasped my tender flesh. “I like the way you look right now, too.”

When he released his hold, I sighed in contentment, only for him to bring the ruler crashing down with a brutal slap. I cried out, canting my hips to run from the pain, and dug my nails into my palms.

But just like the way he stared at me, the hurt and the longing for him to do it again was inescapable. I was adrift and fell further under his spell as he used his free hand to undo the button of his jeans and drop his zipper.

It was clear that, just as I did—he ached.

A look of desire twisted on his face as he dug his hand inside his undone pants. I gasped at how hot it was, both the visual and the idea that he was getting off on what we were doing.

A yelp ripped from my mouth as I took another hit, and I lifted a foot, all the way until the back of my stiletto heel touched my burning skin. It offered me some protection and a reprieve, and Clay stroked himself. He twisted his grip and pumped his fist, and the edges of his jeans and underwear worked down over his hips until his dick was exposed.

While he wasn’t exactly naked, he was where it counted, and it was satisfying he was nearly as vulnerable as I was. He fucked his fist with vicious need, like a man who had no other choice. I watched the head of his thick cock turn white as he thrust through his tight fingers, stoking the fire raging inside me. The throb pulsating in my flesh shifted, sliding down to the center of my legs.

And with it, the atmosphere in the room changed, like the sun outside had suddenly been blotted out by the clouds. Everything closed in around us. I sensed the reckless hunger building inside Clay, and I quivered in anticipation, my heart thundering along at breakneck speed.