Every clatter of metal and rip of sheet rock made her heart jump in terror. Her breathing reached an all-too-familiar velocity, burning her lungs and beading sweat along her scalp.
Eventually, her breaths were all she heard as silence settled through the cabin, thickening, waiting. No footsteps on the stairs. No commanding voice. Was he waiting for her to pull herself together?
Her limbs shook, and her pulse ripped through her veins, but breath by painful breath, she reined it in. He’d opened the windows because he wanted to free her. He waited patiently because he believed in her.
She gathered all her courage to accept that knowledge and crawled back to the railing on wobbly knees.
He stood at the bottom of the stairs, pinching the button on the shirt cuff at his wrist. As he loosened it and moved to the other wrist, he lifted his eyes, locking them on her. Intense eyes. Dangerously beautiful eyes. She didn’t need to look at the windows behind him because she held those eyes, because they told her he loved her.
He didn’t look away as he climbed the stairs and rolled up his sleeves. He held her gaze as he reached the loft and removed his belt, dropping it on the wood floor before her. He didn’t break eye contact until he knelt at her side and ripped the straps of her tank top.
The openness of the windows crawled on her skin. So she sat on her hip, leaning toward him, and let his touch, his eyes, and his spicy scent swallow her senses. The nylon rope bit into her arms, rubbing against her clammy skin, but she welcomed it, gloried in the restraints he’d given her.
Sliding the shirt to her waist, his fingers stroked a trail of fire down her breastbone, over the lacy bra cups, and across her belly. “Lift your gorgeous ass.”
His whisper pulled that fire inward, heating her blood and curling tendrils of warmth through her pussy. She raised her hips, lost in the potency of his hands on her body. There was something unequivocal about pleasing a man as controlling and calculating and adoring as Van Quiso. No need to think. She simply obeyed, placing all her pleasure, and her pain, in his strong and capable hands.
His full lips parted as he glided the shirt and skirt down her legs, his sharp silvery gaze totally and completely focused on her. No matter what kind of confrontation he’d just come from, he was here now, gifting her with the command of his concentration.
With only the bra and rope left on her body, she met his eyes comfortably and confidently. “Will you tell me about it?”
“After your punishment.” He licked the corner of his mouth, perhaps seeking the toothpick that wasn’t there. “On your knees.”
She obeyed, eyes glued to the swell of his groin as he stood and unbuttoned his shirt. When he shrugged it off and tossed it somewhere near the closet, she yanked against the restraints to go after it.
He chuckled, damn him. Whatever. She’d pick it up later. Right now, she had something better to do, like take in the sight of his magnificent body.
His abs flexed with his reach for the leather belt on the floor and contracted with his stretch as he straightened. Veins ran beneath the skin of his forearms, bulging over muscle, pumping with the movements of his hands folding the belt.
Her fingers tingled to run down his chest and around his back to feel his taut muscles and absorb the smooth texture of his skin. More than that, she wanted to bask in the heat of his belt on her ass.
Dangling the strap at his side, he unzipped his pants and slid his hand inside. “Do you know how fucking hard you make me?” He removed his hand and grabbed a fistful of her hair. “Spread your knees. Arms up and elbows out. Like you’re hugging a six-foot cock.”
Her mouth watered, and her pussy throbbed with liquid heat. When she assumed the pose, he stepped into the ring made by her bound arms and yanked her by her hair until her cheek pressed against his hip. The strength of his thigh supported her as he pivoted to face her, his cock hard and pulsing and tenting his slacks an inch from her face.
She slid her cheek against it, reveling in the curved shape and the way it jumped against her touch. Her arms tightened around his thigh, and she ground her clit against his shin, humping his leg and throbbing with need. “Van—”
“Who am I?”
She smiled. “The ruler over lights and porches and window shades and spectacular messes and—” The yank on her hair made her smile harder, and she answered honestly and respectfully. “Master.”
He caressed the edge of the belt over her cheek. “Describe your pussy. I want details.”
“It’s wet, leaking onto my legs. And it hurts. It’s clenching like crazy.” Her admission intensified the throb. “Van, I need you.”
“What does it look like?”
She choked. Dammit, why did he have to go there?
The belt whistled through the air and landed across her ass with a searing sting.
She grunted against his hip. “It’s swollen.”
“More.” He swung again, hitting her other ass cheek.
Her thoughts blurred with shameful images, but she would tell him, and maybe he’d spank her harder. It didn’t matter why he belted her as long as he continued to do so. The pain was a need, a distraction, and a connection. “It’s stretched, loose, chewed up, and used.”
He laid into her, beating her ass just as he’d promised. She didn’t count the swings. She never did, too consumed by the fiery sensations blazing through her body, the press of his cock in her face, the exertion of his breath, and the bolster of his leg as she hugged it tighter with every stroke. The pain was binding, an extension of him, an outpouring of his very essence, his darkness and devotion, his damage and strength.
He could whip her against
