Page 17 of Sherwood
And the way he was right now, with the excitement in his eyes and the smile like he’d just discovered a secret game no one else had ever played before, he reminded me so much of Lox that it hurt. However it’d happened, it made a strange kind of sense that they would’ve been drawn together.
It also made sense that it wouldn’t have lasted.
You have your time when something didn’t end well, and I have mine.
“Now,” Rafe said, “would you like a break? Would you like to stop?”
I could sayrednow. I could even sayyellow, easy yellow, safer than a safeword even, because it wouldn’t break a scene, wouldn’t stop any games or end any nights.
But by now the paddle’s burn had settled deep inside my skin, and there was an answering heat in my body, as if the temperature of my blood itself had changed. That sense of rightness from earlier returned, carried on wings of adrenaline and dopamine.
“No, sir,” I said. “I don’t want to stop.”
“Then back over the bench, sweet one. Let’s do ten more of these, shall we?”
Ten?!
What had sounded like a laughable number just a few minutes ago sounded impossible now. Like torture. One swat alone had stunned me—
Crack.
The paddle came down harder than the first time, searing the skin where it struck on the outside of my panties, and merely hurting like hell where it struckovermy panties. I managed to stay on the bench, but the noise that left my body was impossible to swallow. A moan that turned soft and breathless when Rafe rubbed a hand over the skin he’d just punished, sending sparks flying everywhere through my body. The pain was already mostly gone, and there was a tightness in my belly now, a kindled desire that made me want to shift my hips so that Rafe would rub me elsewhere.
And then another crack came, loud and hard, and then more rubbing. This time the pain lingered a bit longer, fire on my skin and sinking deep into my muscles, and I was so, so aware of the fabric of the dress around my hips, of my silk panties growing wet over my pussy, of the garters that interrupted the paddle’s bite every time it landed.
The next three times hurt enough to make me cry out, and the three times after that were a blur of pain and pleasure as Rafe’s hands soothed away the sting and began moving closer and closer to my cunt as he stroked me.
The penultimate strike was what pushed me to the edge, though. It landed right between my bottom and my thigh with a crack loud enough to fill the room.
I let out a choked noise as tears burned my eyelids, but for the first time, Rafe’s hands trailed over my silk-covered cunt, pressing and teasing and making me arch to seek more of his touch even as tears spilled down my cheeks. It hurt so bad and it felt sogood—I was on fire, but it was the fire of stars and wishes and lust itself—and I wanted more, I needed more, more pain, more touching, morehim—
The final swing of the paddle, and I was crying for real now, my tears coming fast and hard and my body moving on the spanking bench before I even understood what I was truly doing. I only became aware of it as Rafe dropped the paddle on the floor andtsked at me.
“Such a needy pet,” he said, sounding like he was shaking his head. He grabbed my hips with both hands and pulled me back on the bench, his hands already sliding into my panties before I’d found my balance. “If you need it so badly that you’re grinding against the bench, then I suppose I’d better give it to you.”
My eyes fluttered closed at the first slide of his fingers against my bare, slick skin, and then I heard a deep noise of want spill from one of us.
It was him.
“You feel,” he said, sounding unsteady for the first time tonight, “like nothing else.”
His fingers found my clit, his other hand found my entrance. With an expertise that bordered on criminal, he began working my wet cunt open, softly strumming my clitoris all the while.
I’d never been fast at orgasming, not even alone with myself, but within a single minute, I felt the climax knotting itself fast and hard around my womb, responding helplessly to the clever fingers currently pleasuring me.
“Rafe,” I breathed, the orgasm drawing agonizingly close. “Sir. Sir. Sir.”
“Hold still, darling,” he said, because I was a restless thing on the bench, wanting more and more and more. “Let me give you your prize. I’d hate to have to tie you up,” he added, not sounding like he’d hate it at all.
In fact, it was that very thought that sent me over the edge. With the thought of Rafe’s flashing eyes as he tied me to a bed, I tumbled straight into gorgeous oblivion. Everything from my navel to my knees surged and clenched and crested into a wave of sensation so powerful I could hardly stand it. And when Rafe slid his fingers free and shoved them in my mouth, my orgasm redoubled itself, began anew, driven by the pain lingering on my skin and by his fingers on my clit and by his fingers in my mouth and his mesmerizing eyes and his greedy amusement and him himhim—
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” a woman’s voice said from across the room.
My orgasm receded as I turned my head to look, but Rafe didn’t pull his hand free of my panties, nor did he slide his fingers from my mouth. He kept fingering me as the woman approached from the door, striding in with knee-high boots, tight black pants, and a cropped leather jacket still spotted with rain. A motorcycle helmet hung from her right hand.
“Lox,” I breathed around Rafe’s fingers, at the same time he said, in a voice that was utterly devoid of emotion, “Lox. Welcome.”
ChapterFive
