Because We Belong

appreciated the image of her lowered panties remaining on her thighs. Lech, she thought, smiling to herself. In fact, the thought of arousing him from such a small thing pleased her inordinately.

She sensed him standing just behind and beside her, her breath hitching when he pressed the cricket paddle to her bare bottom. At the same moment, his other hand caressed the side of her body, skimming her hip, waist, ribs, and breast. She shivered, the power of his stroking hand amplified by the threat of the paddle against her ass. Waiting for the first stroke was always almost unbearably exciting for her.

“We can talk more about your safety in the next several days, but in the meantime,” he said, still caressing her, “promise me you’ll be excessively careful.”

“You were in the car, too. You promise me to be careful.”

He pressed the paddle tighter into her ass cheeks.

“Yes, I promise,” she said shakily.

“Then I promise, too,” he said. He lifted the paddle. Smack. She moaned at the quick flash of pain followed by the familiar burn and prickles of arousal.

“Too much?” he asked, rubbing her ass with his left hand.

“No.”

“It’s a whippy little thing,” Ian said. She bit her lip to cut off a whimper as he continued to soothe her bottom. She knew what he meant. The willow paddle was light and whippy, ideal for making the surface area of skin sting without causing any real harm.

He paddled her with it again. She whimpered at the burn. Smack, Smack. He paused to soothe her. “Yes, that’s warming you up nicely,” he said, palming a cheek and running his thick forefinger along her crack.

Liquid warmth trickled from her slit. She made a muffled sound of arousal in her throat when he suddenly inserted the paddle between her thighs and pressed it against her sex. Her eyes sprang wide.

“Oh!” she muttered in surprise.

“Good?” he murmured, subtly moving the paddle, stimulating her clit.

“Yes,” she hissed, curling her hands in fists against the wall. She ground her teeth together, her hips shifting, grinding her sex down, riding the bat.

“Hmmm,” Ian growled next to her. She sensed his focus . . . his rising arousal. “I think I’ll just have to take this with me when I go. The ridge in the middle of the back of the bat fits nicely between your lips, doesn’t it?” he asked, referring to the slightly convex shape of the back of the paddle and how it burrowed ideally between her labia.

Her answer was an aroused moan. But then the paddle was gone and landing yet again, biting at the bottom curve of her ass cheeks, the sound of it striking flesh ringing sharply in her ears. He paused, letting her recover from the sting. This time instead of massaging her ass with his hand, he stroked her hip and belly, enlivening her nerves. She shut her eyes tight, her vagina contracting with a pang of lust, when he filled his hand with a breast. He stepped closer, bracketing her hip with his thighs, and pressed his cock against her. He placed the flat end of the paddle on her other hip and pressed, sandwiching her ass between it and his erection. She moaned in a rising fever as he gently pinched an aching nipple, turning it into a tight, hard, exquisitely sensitive point.

He lifted the paddle and spanked her with it several times. She felt his cock jump next to her hip every time he landed a blow.

“Do you remember the first time I paddled you?” he asked roughly, pressing the paddle into her ass cheeks. Her bottom was starting to burn in earnest. Her clit sizzled, plaguing her. She longed to stanch the ache with her hand.

“Yes,” she replied thickly. How could she forget it? She’d been stunned by what he’d said he wanted to do to her . . . shocked that she’d allowed him to do it . . .

Incredibly aroused by the idea of submitting to him sexually.

He finessed her nipple with his fingers, making her grit her teeth in sharp arousal.

“I wanted so much to just to fuck you raw. I nearly did it, too, you were beyond beautiful. I’d never had unprotected sex before that moment, and I nearly gave in. You submitted so sweetly. I couldn’t comprehend your trust in me. I still don’t.”

She clamped her eyes tighter, moved by his rough honesty.

“Some part of me understood you, even then, in the beginning,” she said, her voice shaking with emotion. “You used to make me so nervous, and yet . . . you didn’t. I knew I belonged with you. I knew we belonged. Being with you was like . . . finding home,” she added brokenly.

“Yes,” she heard him say after a pause. “And how I deserved it, I’ve never figured out.”

“You don’t have to figure it out, Ian. Just believe.”

He grunted softly, backing away from her and removing the paddle. She whimpered at the loss of his solid heat, but remained in position, fighting her emotional upheaval, not to mention her curiosity as to what he was doing. She bit her lip at the sound of his zipper lowering, stifling a shaky moan of anticipation. A moment later, she felt his legs brush the back of her calves.

“Brace yourself against the wall and bend over. I didn’t fuck you then, but I certainly will now. Because I can . . . and because you are mine, no matter what happens.”

She swallowed to ease the congestion in her throat at the sound of his stark dominance mixing with the hollow sound of the acceptance of his fate. It seemed ridiculous to deny what he said. Even if he left her for good, part of her would always reside in him, and he would forever be in her heart. Her blood. Her spirit.

She repositioned herself, her hands pressed against the wall, bending at the waist, her panties still stretched tightly between her spread thighs. She felt the hard, tapered head of his penis probe between her thighs, finding her slit. He firmed his hold on her hips.

She cried out when he entered her completely, slapping his pelvis against her ass. He still wore his clothing, having just unfastened his pants and lifted his cock free. She could feel part of his exposed, round testicles along with the fabric of underwear pressing against her outer sex. He paused at the sound of her cry, fully sheathed in her, throbbing at her core.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She gave a muffled assent. He transferred one hand to her clit, rubbing her firmly with the ridge of his forefinger. She glanced down between her legs and saw the cricket paddle suspended in the air. He’d looped the leather cord around his wrist. For some reason, the vision of the paddle swinging beneath her as Ian rubbed her clit sent a thrill of excitement through her. She mewled in pleasure and pulsed her hips.

“You’re still sore from last night, aren’t you?” he asked knowingly.

“A little,” she admitted, although what he was doing to her felt so good, she was quickly forgetting the slight discomfort of harboring his large, erect cock so deep, so suddenly. He stayed completely still for the next moment. It was she who began to bob her ass against him, burning against his circling, pressing finger, fucking his cock several inches back and forth and getting the delicious pressure she required. He said nothing, either, but she felt his tension mounting behind her as he caressed her ass with one hand and set her on fire with his other, and she pumped on his cock, her moans and whimpers and the occasional smack of her ass against his pelvis on a forceful backstroke interrupting the silence. When it became clear as day that she was no longer uncomfortable, but very aroused, he gripped her hips, immobilizing her. The paddle tapped gently against her thigh where it fell. His hand moved between them, readjusting his underwear beneath his balls.

She bit her lip and keened deep in her throat when he began to fuck her on his terms with long, deep strokes. He flexed his hips up slightly every time he penetrated her completely, giving her a delicious jab of pressure on her clit. God, the man knew how to fuck, she thought distractedly as she pushed harder against the wall to keep from spilling over from his forceful possession. He smacked her ass with the paddle as he rode her, making her gasp. She was so hot . . . everything was burning—her ass, her clit, her pussy, her nipples, the soles of her feet . . .

She cried out brokenly when he withdrew his cock.

“Shhh,” he soothed, rubbing her hip as he moved beside her. She felt his cockhead brush against her hip, leaving a smear of wetness, and moaned. “I’m not trying to be cruel. I want to stretch things out a bit, that’s all. Straighten up, lovely. Press closer to the wall again.”

Panting, she tried to do what he directed, most of her brain focused on the terrible absence of his cock. He