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“I hate you,” I groaned, falling deeper into love.
Just words at this point. Just scrambled-up lines that meant the absolute opposite.
“You hate me, huh?” With a soft, sensual chuckle, Henri removed his fingers.
I moaned as my core rippled with frustration.
I needed him to fill me.
Complete me.
A cold draft prickled down my back as he stumbled away. The warning hiss of the whip and its dangerous song slicked through the air.
Another lash cracked right on my ass.
“Ah fuck!” My hips shot forward, bruising me against the cross.
I had no words for what happened.
No explanation for how the corporeal part of me suddenly existed on a spiritual plane of sensuality. I’d touched such a metaphysical place yesterday when I’d hidden from Victor. I’d fallen into sublime quietness for only a few seconds every time I meditated, but this…
God this…
“Beg me to stop,” Henri gasped. “Tell me how much you hate me.”
I couldn’t breathe, let alone speak.
Another lash.
A waspish sting.
Meditative calmness.
Intense mindfulness.
I burned alive.
Because of him.
My other half.
My missing half.
My blood turned to light as every molecule shivered for more.
“I want to do such bad things to you, Ily…” He struck again, this time on my other ass cheek.
I snapped forward against the cross again. My knees trembled. My legs threatened to give out. Another wave of hot fire cascaded down my back and into my blood.
It pushed me headfirst into a deeper realm.
An awful detonation.
It wasn’t his darkness that shoved me into pleasure but the innocence beneath his mastery. The pain tangled in his power. The vulnerability and love and kindness.
A kindness that hadn’t been eradicated despite what his father had done to him.
