Stealing His Thunder (Masters of Adrenaline 1)

“Have you ever been whipped with a strip of leather?” In front of her face, he shook out a black strip no bigger than a shoelace.

That was it? She had the urge to snicker, but kept it to herself. How bad could something that tiny be? She’d had a belt used on her before.

“No.”

“You remember your safeword?”

A smile threatened to curve her lips, but she bit them into a line before she betrayed herself.

“Yes.”

“Twenty.”

With that thing? Big deal. “Okay.”

The leather brushed against her ass, then tapped a few times. A sting. Hmm. Kind of nice. She shifted, enjoying the burn, but trying not to let on. There was the sound of him stepping back, followed by a high-pitched whistling noise.

What the . . . ?

A stinging lash cut across one of her butt cheeks, wrapping around to lick the top of her thigh. She sucked in a breath, but the next one followed, then a third.

Dammit! That fucking hurt!

More sharp stings rained down. She squealed, rising onto her toes to try to get away from the sensation. Each stripe he’d left burned, way more painfully than any thuddy implement that had ever been used on her, and very different from a belt.

She tried to dance away, but his big hand shoved between her shoulder blades and pinned her in place.

The feel of him holding her down mixed with the pain he inflicted. She could already feel herself slipping down into the numbed haze of subspace.

“Stay,” he barked.

When he removed his hand from her back, she could still feel the heat from his palm sinking deep into her skin. She didn’t dare stir. How many was that? She’d lost track. Did the first few taps count? She rubbed her mouth on the duvet, the feel of the fabric against her lips grounding her. Subspace was something she usually chased after, hoping to find it, but she didn’t want to go now. There was a strong incentive to stay aware and bask in the dominance he exuded. Even the sound of his boots on the hardwood floor made her squirm. She wanted to remember every detail and store it in her spank bank for later.

“Eleven.”

Hell. She clawed at the blanket, twisting it in her hands. Her ass and thighs were on fire. She should have put her thighs on her hard limits list too, fucker.

More blows rained down, and more again.

“Nineteen.”

Almost over. Thank god. Safewording during their first time together would make her feel like a pussy.

The sound of the cord shrieking through the air made her entire body tense. A lick of fire cut across her ass, wrapping around to sting her all the way to her hip. She screeched, the sound getting louder when he traced the mark the last shot must have left. When she got control over her noise, every breath she took came in a shuddering gasp. Her entire body was locked, knotted. Her ass throbbed like the bassline at a metal concert, but the pain was all ringing treble.

From over her shoulder came a low growl of approval. “You mark up so fucking pretty.”

She felt her cheeks heat, suddenly too aware he was staring at her ass. Lord knew she had a round one. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back.

“Kneel.”

Now? Was he serious?

Only allowing herself one quiet whine, she carefully slid to the floor and knelt, flinching when her heels met her butt.

Fire down below, and not in the fun way—although her slick thighs proved she was lying to herself.

After a long moment, she realized he was looking down at her expectantly. She’d been so caught up in how her body was feeling and the way her mind was scrambling around, she hadn’t noticed he was waiting for something.