“I asked you a question.” Voice still low. Almost a caress. He could see the goose bumps on her skin, the endorphins rising. She liked this. She hated it. She loved it. She was confused as hell. Just to make certain, he let his hand dip low and brushed her clit, circled, played, flicked. “Answer me.”

“Brandon was there, and you didn’t want me to go near him.”

“Why?”

Again, there was that small hesitation. He didn’t hesitate, and this time the whistle was much more pronounced, and the line of fire rose precisely on her sit spot, just above the line he’d just raised, so the two stripes touched. This one went from white to a fiery red, a bright line of sheer agony. He landed two more just like it in rapid succession, one just above the next so there was no space in between, yet he was careful he didn’t repeat in the same place twice.

She sobbed. A real sob. Real tears. He knew the difference. She didn’t try to cover up, and she didn’t pull away. He immediately rubbed her sore bottom, his blood roaring through his veins, pounding through his cock, demanding more. Needing it now.

Savage gathered her hair in his hand and pulled her head up, needing to see her eyes. They were beautiful, liquid with tears. His tears. He took them, drinking them down, grateful to whoever had given her to him. Her eyes were soft with remorse yet filled with determination. She wanted to do this. He kissed her. He shouldn’t, but he was proud of her courage, and they made their own rules.

“Why can’t you go near Brandon, Seychelle?” he asked, gently letting her head down. He put his hand on her nape and let it drift down her back as he once more positioned himself in the best line to punish her.

“Every time he hears me use my voice to counter his, it’s possible he can find a way to use that against me in the same way I can stop him from using his voice,” she admitted with great reluctance.

His breath caught in his throat, and fear swirled in his gut. He knew the little bastard was dangerous to Seychelle, but only because he was a vengeful little worm and he would be plotting to get her back in some way. Savage hadn’t known, hadn’t even considered, that the man might be able to use Seychelle’s voice against her in some way.

She knew that, and yet she’d deliberately used her voice in front of him to counter his commands to Doris and to Tessa. Twice. It was no wonder Campbell was after her. And somehow the little bastard had a connection to the Diamondbacks.

Savage took several deep breaths. He wasn’t going to chance being out of control when he punished her, especially when she was being so brave and working her way into his world. “You deserve a hell of a lot of punishment for not informing me of the scope of danger he represented to you, but also for disobeying and talking to him.”

“I know, Savage, I’m sorry. I really am.” She sounded very sincere.

“I’m going to give you ten strikes with the cane, Seychelle. You aren’t going to be very comfortable on our date tonight, but you earned every one of these. If you can’t take it, what do you say?”

“You said I couldn’t stop a punishment, Savage.”

“Not when you aren’t used to a cane, baby. I’m training you as I punish you. What’s the word to stop this if you can’t take it?”

“Red.”

“You say it if it’s too much. Don’t hold out to please me.”

“I’ll say it.” Her voice was small. Too small. She sounded scared.

“And remember the rules. No screaming. You cry all you want, but no screaming. You only do that when you’re climaxing.” He ran his palm down her spine gently, just to give her courage. His woman. Giving her that connection. “Don’t tense up. Let the pain take you. Give into it. Surrender to it.”

The cane whistled as he put a fraction more force into it, the sound a kind of music all on its own. The round rattan-filled stick slashed across her perfect bottom, leaving another much tighter line. The second and third followed immediately, almost right on top, before she could even register the fiery agony the cane could produce.

Seychelle’s left leg kicked up, but she pressed her toes back to the floor of the porch, her sobs softer than they had been with the warm-up round he’d given her.

“You’re doing so good, baby.” He pressed two fingers into her tight, slick heat and fucked her for a moment while his thumb stroked her clit. Pulling his fingers out, he licked them clean. “You taste so damn good.”

Three more strikes fell in rapid succession. He laid them out, descending toward the bottom of her round cheeks. Each should have been a little harder, but he kept them the same. The cane was one of his shortest and easily controlled, but he knew that even though he was using a lighter stroke, it burned like hell. The seventh strike had the most force so far, and he landed it just under her buttocks. She cried out and instantly jammed her fist in her mouth to muffle the sound.

Tags: Christine Feehan Torpedo Ink Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net