She attempted to fix a stern expression on her beautiful face although she didn’t quite succeed. “Be serious.”
“I am being serious.” As serious as hell.
“I have an important question. About the book.”
He stilled. “The book?
“Yes. I’ve read this section again and again and I simply cannot understand, when Asha feels the lick of the lash…”
She had his attention now. All of it. “What can’t you understand?” Oh, do tell.
She looked away, suddenly shy. Something flared in his gut. “I don’t understand why she enjoys that.”
That flare became a fist. A tight, gripping, clenching fist.
Ah. Glory. He knew giving her that book had been brilliant.
He let his voice drop an octave. Maybe two. “What don’t you understand, sweet?”
She flicked a look at him. Her eyes widened. She shivered. Her mouth opened and then closed again. “Edward?”
“Yes?”
“That tone in your voice?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t understand that either.”
Of course she didn’t. She wasn’t an innocent, but she was naive, at least about that sort of play. He would love to initiate her. That she’d brought it up thrilled him to the core.
“Come here, darling.” He made his way to the chairs by the fire and sat, pulling her onto his lap. His fingers trembled on her hip. “There are many ways of sharing intimate pleasures. The things we’ve done—”
“Those were quite nice.” She wiggled against his cock. He nearly lost consciousness as every drop of blood rushed to his groin.
“And there are other ways.” He loved the way she peered up at him, so trusting. So tempting. “Have you ever been spanked?”
She laughed. “Of course. I was a very naughty girl when I was younger.”
Oh, she was naughty still, but in the best possible way.
“Not that kind of spanking. I have in mind another kind entirely.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Will you allow me to show you?” Anticipation hummed in his veins. He hadn’t thought to take her to this place—certainly not yet—hadn’t dared hoped it possible. But she’d brought it up. He would be gentle, of course. If he could. “Would you like to understand?”
She nibbled her lips. His mouth watered. “Yes, Edward. I think I would like to understand.”
Holy. Hell.
“Stand up then, darling, and pull up your skirts.”
She stood and shot him a quizzical glance. “Pull up my skirts? For a spanking? Whatever for?”
“This is a special kind of spanking. Just for the purposes of elucidation, let’s say you’ve been a bad girl.”
She began pulling up her skirts, but very slowly, and she was facing him so while she was exposing her bottom, he did not enjoy the benefit of the sight. “What did I do?”
“You failed to give me all my kisses.” He grinned wickedly and she responded in kind.
“That was naughty.”
“Yes. It was. A debt is a debt, after all. Now, as a result of it, I shall take the remainder in some other form. Drape yourself over my lap.”
She sucked in a breath, but did as he asked. Every muscle clenched at the feel of her warm weight over his thighs, at the sight of her bottom, creamy and flawless and oh so curved, poised high, within reach.
She wriggled, adjusting her perch. “Is this good?”
“You have no idea.” He set one hand to her lower back and with the other, stroked.
She emitted a little peep and wriggled some more.
“Hold still.” He took his time, enjoying the feel of her soft sweet skin, dandling into her crack, dipping around to tease her curls. And then, when he could bear the agonizing anticipation not a moment longer, he let his palm fall.
Smack!
She winced, cried out.
The print of his hand rose on her cheek. He stared at it. Lust, like a snake, slithered and hissed in his belly. God, he’d wanted to do that. He’d wanted it bad. He hoped he had not done it too hard.
Though he ached to do it again, he held himself back. “How did that feel?”
“I… Oh… It was…”
Smack!
Lord love a duck. It was fantastic. The way she jumped, sighed, ground her pussy against his thigh. He felt a dribble of cream dampen his trousers.
“Oh, Edward!”
“Call me Sir.”
She peeped at him over her shoulder, peering through her hair. It was wild, unfettered, exquisite. “Sir?”
“Yes.” Oh yes.
Smack! Smack smack smack.
“Oh! Sir. Oh yes, Sir.” She glanced back again, her eyes wild. “More.”
More. The nicest word he’d ever heard. And in that brogue, with that sultry purr—it enflamed him.