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“Well, that’s a hard limit. No blood play.”
“Obviously.” I pause. “Do people really do that?”
“Yes.”
I peek back. “Do you like to do that?”
He shakes his head and I sigh with relief. “Not my thing,” he adds. “Can I smack you? Let’s say the face?”
“No, I don’t want to stir up questions,” I answer. “Nothing on the face.”
He lays an open palm on my rear. “How about here?”
I tilt my head as my skin tingles. “That should be okay, I think...”
His hand falls away. “Keep thinking as I touch you. Let your mind wander, find your limits. If you think of something you’re unsure about and might want to try, that’s a soft limit.”
I nod. “All right.”
He slaps the back of my hand with the crop. “That was for earlier.”
I chuckle, feeling the pleasant pain in my wrist. “I was hoping you forgot...”
“Nope.”
“Damn.”
He goes quiet and guides my face forward again. I stand firm, planting my palms and fingers against the table, and wait for further instruction.
Clive takes a short step back and I feel his eyes wander from my head to my toes. He taps the crop lightly against the left side of my neck and my mind flashes with possibility. His lips there, kissing me. Biting me. The crop glides up to my ear and travels along my hairline. He takes his other hand and lays it at the base of my neck, fanning out his fingers before combing them along my scalp. He gathers my hair in his fingers, gently pulling until the taut strands hurt.
He waits here, studying me for a reaction.
Say wait for too much. Stop to stop...
But I want more.
“Mr. Snow,” I say.
He gives me a quick, hard tug, yanking my head back.
I yelp in surprise, fighting the urge to twist and bring my hands up. My right wrist slips anyway and I grow tense, hoping he didn’t notice.
The crop smacks my fingertips. Guess not.
The pain fades as his lips caress my neck. His wild and warm breath fires up along my ear, sending goosebumps in all directions and I have to practically turn to stone to keep my hands from moving. A moan escapes the back of my throat and I sink a little further into his touch.
The crop moves down my neck and over my shoulder blades, coming to a stop at the back of my dress. Clive pinches the zipper and slowly guides it down. My instincts tell me to stop it before it falls off my breasts — but that’s what he wants me to do. He wants me to raise my hands and grab it so he can punish me again.
I ignore the instinct, letting it fall, and I hear that same, amused grunt fall from his lips. He lays the crop down on the table beside me but I don’t celebrate just yet. His hands start at my shoulders and move down my bare back. I close my eyes, feeling relaxed as his fingertips massage into me all the way down to the small of my back.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he says.
I smile. I can’t hold it in. “Thank you,” I say.
“Your skin...” He moves his palms up and down my spine. “It’s like silk.”
“Uh-huh...” I bite my lip, my nether churning with heat.
