I’m so preoccupied I don’t hear him approach until I feel him behind me, his hands on my elbows and his mouth to my ear. I jump, but the sound of his voice quickly calms me. “Tonight, you’ll be caned for not taking your safety seriously. I’ve warned you about this, and I want you thinking about how important it is to follow my instructions.”

  I nod. “Yes, sir.”

  “Imagine the swing and swish of the cane when I punish you. Each stroke will strip away some of what you’ve got welled up in here.” He presses his palm against my chest, but the touch isn’t sexual. Though I’m naked, it’s more like an embrace than anything else. My heartbeat thumps against his palm. “Whatever troubled you when you were home, that you let fester and burn until you needed to attack me when we were alone? Bring that out to the surface, so when I punish you, we begin again.”

  I don’t really understand what’s going on. I get what he’s saying, but those things I have welled up inside me are battered down and hidden, like secrets tucked into chests with iron padlocks. I can’t just conjure them up like that. It isn’t that easy.

  “I feel your hesitation, Cora. What is it?”

  “I… I don’t know how I’m supposed to drag those things up.” I feel a little irritated, but I don’t really get why, so I just let myself speak without trying to censor my thoughts. “I mean… I agreed to be your submissive. I didn’t agree to go to therapy or whatever the fuck.”

  He’s kneading my shoulders with his firm, strong hands, plying the taut muscles, and a little bit of my worry dissipates before I can even begin to hold it back.

  “Submitting physically is one thing, Cora,” he says. “And mentally is another.”

  “Why would I submit mentally to you?” I ask. “Hell, I don’t even know what that means. And I don’t know if I agreed to it.”

  “Oh, but you did,” he says, dragging his hands from my shoulders down my back. “When you signed the contract.”

  “Where? Was there fine print I missed?” I try to pass it off as a joke, but he isn’t amused, and neither am I.

  “You agreed to obey me. I’ve instructed you to bring your anger that’s directed at me to mind. It’s a simple request, but not an easy one. Now I’m going to give you some time here to think about what I just said.”

  And then he’s gone, and I feel the loss keenly.

  I stand with the cane, the darkened room cast in shadows when I stand in the corner. This isn’t anything at all what I expected, but I’m doing myself no favors holding back. Time ticks by so long, that after a while I imagine I can even hear the ticking of a clock, but there is none. I stand with my back rigid, but I’m beginning to grow tired. Though he hasn’t instructed me not to move, I have the distinct impression that if I do, he’ll punish me.

  I’m waiting for his command, but none comes.

  Then with no warning at all, something shifts in me. Here, while staring at the blank wall in front of me, there’s no visual distraction. With the quiet in the room, the only sound my breathing and his, and the low bubbling sound of the diffuser he put on, my mind begins to quiet. The noise and chatter of my inner thoughts that distract me even in sleep begin to quiet. And when they do, a surprising calm trickles over my skin like warm water. My body heats, and I let out a deep sigh.

  “Good girl,” he approves from behind me. “Now come here, Cora.”

  I turn as if waking, suddenly brilliantly aware of every detail. The way he sits on the bed dressed in slacks and a pale blue shirt. The large, masculine hands that rest on his knees. So strong. So powerful. Capable of both destruction and reparation, hands that will master my body. The strong column of his neck, the sharp angle of his jaw, the pronounced slash of his cheekbones. And when I get to his eyes… God, those eyes… the depths of blazing blue fixed on mine with nothing but honesty written in those depths.

  As I stare at him, his lips thin and his jaw firms.

  “I told you to come here, Cora.”

  I walk quickly toward him, broken from my trance, and as I stand before him, he rolls up his sleeves. It’s a beautiful sight, a powerful, silent declaration that he’s the one in charge. In control. This is no game.

  “Now hand me the cane, please.”

  Trembling, I obey, sliding the slim implement onto his palm. He stands and points to the bed, wordlessly instructing me to lie over it by tapping the edge with the cane. A full body tremor courses through me as I obey.

  “Cora,” he says, his palm resting on the small of my back. “Breathe in.”

  I inhale deeply.

  “Now out.”

  I release the breath.

  “Before we begin, tell me what was on your mind while you stood in the corner.”

  “Well,” I tell him honestly. “At first it was everything.”

  “Everything?”

  “Yes. A jumble of thoughts so loud I could hardly focus on one.”

  “I see. And then?”

  “Then they all began to flit away until my mind grew quiet.”

  “Good,” he says. “That was a test.”

  “And did I pass?”

  “It wasn’t pass or fail. I wanted to see if you’d be able to find your peace in the corner, and you were. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  I don’t really get it, but I nod into the bed. Now that I’m belly-down and bared to him, and he’s standing behind me with that wicked cane in his hand, I sort of want this over with.

  “Now tell me the things on your mind.”

  “I… I don’t want to, sir,” I say to him, as meekly as I can because I’m not trying to defy him but I’m not super comfortable telling him everything that’s on my mind.

  “I know you don’t. But I asked you to, and I want you to do your best.”

  This gentle, firm side of Liam unravels me somehow. I don’t really know this side of him, but the way he makes me feel inside, I want to.

  “Now try, Cora. Why were you so angry at me for being friendly with Bailey and Ben? Start there.”

  “Because it isn’t fair,” I tell him. “Our relationship isn’t permanent, and I don’t want them getting attached to you.”

  “Good. What else?”

  “And… and Ben never had a guy in his life to look up to or take care of him or teach him guy things, and he’s the one I’m super worried about. And Bailey isn’t stupid, and she knows something’s up with us, but I don’t know how to explain anything to her.”

  “Go on.”

  “I… I don’t know what else to say. At this point I just want you to begin because I know it’ll hurt, and I want to get it over with.”

  “I see.” Then he’s standing behind me with his hand on my back, and his voice is deeper. Stern. “Why am I going to punish you?”

  “I didn’t follow your instructions.”

  “Correct. And what is my rule for you?”

  “Obey you,” I say in a little voice, squeezing my eyes shut for the smack of the cane. I hear it whoosh in the air, and I gasp out loud, flinching when it smacks against my bare ass. Jesus Christ that hurts so badly my throat’s on fire and I can’t breathe.

  “Say it again.”

  “Obey you,” I repeat, before a second line of fire slashes across my ass. I whimper this time, unable to hold back my reaction.

  “Again.”

  “Obey you,” I whisper, then a third lash of the cane lands.

  “Obey you,” I say without prompting, before the fourth smack falls. My mind is a muddle of thoughts and protests and there’s a lump in my throat like I’ve just swallowed a bagel sideways.

  “I can’t!” I protest. “Oh, God, that hurts so fucking bad!”

  “Say it.”

  “Obey you,” I moan, bringing on the fifth swish and thud.

  “Obey you!” I scream, just before the last line of fire ignites me. I’m panting, balled up with my fists under my chest, when he sits on the edge of the bed, picks me up, and plants me straight over his lap.

  I cringe and squirm when his palm encircles my scorched, aching ass. He murmurs quietly.

  “Let it go, Cora. I can feel you taut like a string ready to snap. Let it go, now.” And the soft cadence of his voice breaks my resolve more effectively than the most vicious cut of the cane. “You took your punishment like a good girl. Such a very good girl.”

  He’s massaging me, soothing my punished skin, and coaxing the lump in my chest to dissolve. “There is so much that’s new to you, but I’m proud of you,” he continues, his voice taking on a rougher, more rugged tone. “You’re so strong and brave, and knowing you’ve granted me permission to dom you makes me proud as fuck. You know that?” Over and over, warm strokes of his palm, and as the pain begins to fade, I’m suddenly crying. My eyes are wet and I’m silently weeping, swiping at my eyes so he doesn’t see.

  “I punished you because I want you to remember this. That you belong to me, and obeying every instruction is crucial. That I won’t let harm come to you, and when you—”

  He halts mid-sentence, but I’m dimly aware of it, for I’m crying freely now and can’t seem to stop. Then he’s tucking me into his warm, broad chest, and I’m soaking his shirt clean through. I’m trying to stop the tears, but I can’t. It isn’t just the punishment he gave me tonight, but something he dredged up from so much deeper below that surface. Rocking me, he holds me tighter, and his final instruction gives me the permission I need.

  “Let it all out.” It’s so tender, I can’t hold back. “Like that, little one. You’re safe.”

  I’m completely exposed, as naked and vulnerable as a newborn baby, and I don’t even try to stop my tears. I couldn’t even if I wanted to, they’re coming from a well deep inside me, fathoms below the surface where my darkest torment dwells.

  “Shh,” is all he says, rocking me against his chest. My nose is dripping and I’m slobbering all over him like a puppy, but he doesn’t care and neither do I. For the first time in my adult life, hell, maybe my whole life, I’m somehow safe, ironically centered and secure in the arms of the man who just punished me.

  “I—I don’t know—I didn’t mean…” I stammer, my voice thick with emotion.

  “You don’t need to,” he says in my ear, kissing my wet cheeks and damp forehead, and pulling me so close to him it hurts. “You were holding a lot back, and it’s come loose, but it’s okay now. Don’t try to stop now. You’re safe here. I’ve got you.”

  Somehow, I know it to be true. Our relationship defies everything my logical brain tells me, and yet, here I am, held close and cherished. Any man who can comfort a sobbing mess like me, who can take my broken pieces laid bare by the strokes of punishment he gave me, has earned something I’ve given not one solitary soul on this earth. So, I let it go. I cry, and I cry, and I cry, until there are no more tears to be shed. I feel wrung dry like a limp dishcloth, hiccupping against his sopping wet chest, and still he holds me.

  “Good girl,” he whispers. “Christ, you’re brave. You know that?”

  How can anyone call a woman who just wept like a child after a spanking brave?

  “Brave?” I whisper, with a self-deprecating snort. “I just… how can you call me brave?”

  “It takes so much courage to do what you just did,” he says. “I feel like Neil Fucking Armstrong stepping on the moon.”

  “What?” I say, suddenly giddy and lighter than I’ve been in years. I’m laughing while hiccupping from the slobbering sob session I just had. “What do you mean?”

  But he doesn’t answer. “Never mind that now,” he says. “Jesus, woman, what you do to me.” He hands me tissues and I unceremoniously blow my nose.

  Standing with me still tucked against his chest, he moves slowly and I’m quiet. I don’t know what to say or what we do now. I’m exhausted yet buoyant. I want to thank him, and I don’t even know why, and the thought of him releasing me right now scares me.

  “Don’t let me go just yet,” I whisper, then remember my manners. “Please, sir?”

  “Let you go?” he says. “Hell no. I just found you.”

  He’s laying me on my back on the bed but somehow, he doesn’t let go of me. I’m still wrapped in his arms, and he’s kneeling above me, one knee on either side, his arms under my back, and he’s kissing me. God, he’s kissing every inch of me but my mouth. My rumpled hair and wet cheeks and shoulders, and when he comes to my neck, I tip my head to the side and moan. I don’t even try to stop myself or hold back but let him ravish me with lips and teeth and tongue. Like a match to tinder, my body ignites. Just a moment ago, the last thing on my mind was sex, but he’s so strong, so powerful, so tender, I can’t help my instinctual arousal. My breasts swell and tingle, my nipples furling when he brushes a knuckle across the tender skin.

  “So fucking beautiful,” he says. I love how his dignified persona fades at moments like this, as if somehow, unwittingly, I’ve undone his hard-won decorum. With slow, languid movements, he captures my wrists in his powerful hands and pins them above my head with one hand, the other hand tipping my chin up so he can kiss me. My hips rise to meet him, and I sigh. I don’t care about holding back anymore. Hell, I’m not sure I could if I wanted to.

  He nips my lip and sucks it into his mouth, still pinning my wrists so tightly I’m powerless to stop anything he does. His mouth moves from my lips back to my cheek, then down to my jaw and back to my neck. I yelp when he sinks his teeth into the tender skin, hard enough to hurt, but the pain sends a bolt of desire between my thighs. A slow graze of his lips to the other side of my neck, and he bites again. This time my clit throbs, and I jerk my hips against him. I can feel the length of him pressed against my pussy. God, I want him to fuck me. Something tells me Liam Alexander fucks the way he wants, and that’s exactly what I need right now.

  He moves his hand to his pocket, then the next thing I know he’s wrapping something soft and silky around my wrists, before he secures the loop on a hook on the bed. My hands are suspended above my head. I shiver when I realize this leaves me completely at his mercy.

  “I was going to blindfold you,” he says. “To help you let go. But I don’t think that’s necessary tonight.” I shake my head, swallowing hard with what I know is coming. My body’s on fire, primed with want, and in that moment, I know the only one who can satisfy that need is him.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks.

  “Horny as fuck,” I rasp.

  He shoots me a wolfish grin and nods. “Perfect.”

  I watch him strip, my mouth dry, unabashedly taking in every glorious detail of his exquisite body. This is no show, though, as he looks away and carelessly tosses his clothes to the floor. As if he doesn’t know how hot he is, all strength and muscles, this big strapping man who just punished me then held me with the gentlest touch has me so ready to take him. I’m no virgin, but I’ve never slept with a real man.

  “It’s funny to me that you have tattoos,” I tell him, letting my eyes lazily roam the black markings that snake up his arms.

  Shrugging, he mutters. “A drunken effort to piss off my mother.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Oh yeah,” he says. “She screeched like a banshee and told me she was writing me out of the will.”

  “Good,” I tell him. “For what it’s worth, I approve.”

  He’s stripped to his boxers now, the length of his erection making me swallow hard with nerves. Like everything about Liam, he’s huge.

  “For what it’s worth?” he repeats with a wry smile. “I’m glad you do.”

  I grin at him, and he smiles back, and in that moment, we’re more than two people with a contract. And then my mind goes hazy and my body takes over, because he’s on me, and he smells so fucking good, and hell, this man knows how to touch me.

  “There are so many things I want to do to you.”

  “Oh yeah, handsome?” I whisper. I want to know what I’m in for, and I want him to do those things to me.

  “Hot wax,” he says. “Christ, how gorgeous you’ll look covered with wax.”

  “Sounds… painful,” I say with a smile. “But I’m game.”

  “Doesn’t have to be painful,” he says, his breath hot on my cheek. I gasp when he draws his tongue along my cheekbone and moans. “I want to lick every inch of you. The taste of your pussy haunts my fucking dreams.”

  “Jesus,” I whisper, so turned on I think if he breathes on my pussy I’ll climax. “What else do you want to do?”

  “Clamps,” he says.

  “Fair.”

  “Shibari.”

  “Oooh. That’s the rope thing?”

  He chuckles, dragging his tongue to the valley of my breasts, and I catch my breath. “Yeah, baby. That’s the rope thing.”

  “What exactly do you do after I’m tied up, though?”

  The ravenous grin he gives me makes my heart take a tumble. “Anything I fucking want.”

  He dips his mouth to my breast and pulls my nipple between his teeth so hard it hurts. I arch when he suckles and laves my breast.

  “Fuck,” I moan. “Jesus.” It’s torturous and beautiful. I want him to stop and I need him not to. The contradictions he draws out in me leave me panting with need.

  Pinching and kneading my left breast while he suckles and nips my right, he grinds his erection against me. I rise to meet him, and want to touch him, but a tug of my wrists reminds me I’m still tied. Then he’s moving lower, to my belly, and I don’t want his mouth there because I don’t like my belly. But I can’t tell him that, because I’m not allowed and I have to stay right here, in this moment, liking what I can and letting go of what I can’t control.

  And somewhere, deep inside me, where my fears lay… I want that.

  “I can feel you tensing, Cora,” he warns. Can he?

  “You’re fucking beautiful. Say it.”

  “Liam…”

  “Say. It.”

  But I can’t, the words are caught in my throat and I don’t know how to let them free.

  “Do you want another round with the cane?”

  Is he joking? Would he really?

  “No, but I—you wouldn’t!”

  “Sure as hell would. I’m totally fucking serious.” And he is. I can tell by the way his voice grows hard and his eyes meet mine.

 

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