Part 22 (1/2)
She didn't rise as elegantly as she would have liked. No doubt he intended for her to get plenty more practice. If he had his way, he'd have years to school her.
His eyebrows were furrowed. She'd noticed that he did that when he was intent or thoughtful. It unnerved her to realize he watched every single one of her moves.
She took a few steps and stopped in front of him, aware of their height difference, how much bigger he was.
He took the whip handle and put it beneath her chin. In response, she shuddered.
”I want to get you better acquainted with my single tail.”
Despite her intention to be calm, she looked at it. She wasn't a fool. He'd only used it on her twice. One had been a tease. The second had been harsher. And she'd heard the way he cracked it. The thing was an extension of him, and he could wield it any way he chose. ”I'd ask what you had in mind, but the answer may scare me.”
”I will promise you'll like the experience. And I promise you'll feel it. A sting, maybe a burn. If you're lucky, you'll have a few marks when we go to dinner.”
”Lucky?” she repeated, her voice coming out as a squeal.
”It's my hope that you'll learn to like my marks, savor them, even.”
”Again, as I keep telling you, Mr. Donovan, you have the wrong woman.”
”Do I? Is that why your breathing is so shallow?”
She glanced down, severing their gazes. He seemed to look too deeply into her, all the way to her heart, her mind.
He moved the hilt of the whip, tracing it down the column of her neck and pausing at the hollow of her throat.
This man, her future husband, made it impossible to hide. She reached up and held onto his wrists.
”I think, Ms. Bertrand, that you please me immensely.”
After she released her grip, he drew the handle lower, between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, she pictured him tracing the same path with his c.o.c.k. She shuddered, and her nipples hardened. As he ignited something that had been latent within her, intimacy was created. Connor made her feel as if she were the only one who mattered to him.
He made circles around her b.r.e.a.s.t.s then continued past her belly b.u.t.ton, arrowing toward her pelvis.
For a moment, she forgot to breathe entirely.
He angled the hilt against her p.u.s.s.y, parting her l.a.b.i.a, teasing her c.l.i.t.
No matter what she said, her body wasn't capable of lying to him. She was already moist.
Easily, he slid the handle back and forth, making her tingle.
”Tell me again how I have the wrong woman.”
She moaned as he increased the friction.
”That's it.” He eased a tiny bit of the handle inside her.
”Oh, G.o.d.” She closed her eyes.
”Do you want it?”
She reached for his shoulders.
”Tell me,” he said, voice harsher.
”Yes... Please, Sir. Please.”
He drove her wild, f.u.c.king her with the handle, plunging it in and out, making her squirm, drawing it back out so he could play with her c.l.i.t, talking to her, encouraging her.
She leaned into him, rising onto her toes in silent plea.
”Such heat. I can smell your arousal, little Lara.”
”Con-nor!” His name emerged as two distinct syllables. The things he was doing to her became her entire world.
”Come for me, Lara. Do it now.”
She was lost.
The o.r.g.a.s.m crashed over her, and her legs lost the ability to hold her up. As always, he was there, offering support, wrapping her up.
When her brain function returned to normal, Lara realized she was clinging to him, holding on to fistfuls of his s.h.i.+rt.
He had her head cradled and a palm pressed against the small of her back.
”I'm not sure what happens to me,” she admitted.
”Connection,” he said. Then he smiled as he stroked her arm. ”And I think that ends the conversation as to whether I have the right woman or not.”
She tried to pull away, but he only tightened his grip.
”Be easy.”
She exhaled.
”Relax.” His words were gentle with rea.s.surance and patience. ”Stop thinking.”
Slowly, she nodded.
He continued to offer his strength until she totally relaxed in his arms. She curled into his chest and uncurled her fists.
”Yeah. That's it.”
She'd never had a man so in tune with her. The feeling amazed her.
”When you're ready, go over to the bench,” he instructed.
Lara stayed where she was for a little longer then followed his directions. He'd placed it near a wall, probably to give himself ample room to swing the whip. The taller section faced her.
Cuffs dangled from either side of the metal frame, one set close to the floor, the other at the far side of the bench.