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He can’t go there. He can’t do this. It’s so shameful that I’m letting him do these things. Here I’ve sworn to myself my husband would be the only one to see me so bare, to touch me in these secret places, yet Callum Burnes has my naked body pinned to this bed, his fingers inside me and his mouth about to?—
“No, don’t,” I say, pushing him away with feeble hands.
“Wits fur ye will no go by ye.” With a dark laugh, he grabs the tops of my thighs in each of his massive hands, parting my legs, and buries his face in me.
An old saying that means “if it's meant to be, it’ll happen.” And he’s got no right to say such things when he’s a man who’s clearly taken destiny into his own hands with me.
“You don’t believe it—” But then his hot tongue lashes my clit. “Oh…Lord love us!”
I am lost in sensation when suddenly he stops and pulls away from me completely. Bolting up, I stare down at him.
Of course, he’s got that wicked glint in his naughty eyes. The cocky smile on his handsome face. His thick hair is tangled from my fingers. The man is a vision. My frustration mounts, resulting in me collapsing back down on the bed. “Callum Burnes, ye are the most arrogant man in Scotland.”
He crawls over me with his heat and muscle and wicked kisses, saying, “Patience.”
His movements have profound beauty, such a large, muscular body filled with grace and control. I watch him rise from the bed, and a voice from deep inside my womb says, Take him, Fiona. Have him. Make him yours and keep him.
I wouldn’t think I’d be so tempted by the pleasures of the flesh to make a deal with the devil.
But no one told me the devil would be so handsome.
He smirks at the sight of me, lying there flushed and bothered. Crooking a finger at me, he gestures for me to come closer. I don’t want to move from where I lie, but I do. I tremble as I roll off the bed and walk to meet him at the side of it.
"Kneel," he commands.
I do as I'm told; I'm unsure of what will happen but too afraid to question it. He takes a few steps back so that he is standing behind me and then reaches forward with one hand to spread my legs apart. He takes my hands, bringing them up behind my head.
I clasp them in place, unaware of what to expect, yet wanting this.
"Good girl," he whispers into my ear before leaving me.
Naked. Kneeling. Obedient.
“Never. Ever. Disobey me.”
I feel a sharp sting on my thigh and cry out in surprise as the leather whip connects with my skin. He continues to strike me, each blow causing a mix of fire and light. Pain and pleasure. Fear and feeling. He flicks the whip through the air, touching my skin just enough to leave a stinging trail.
I gasp, biting back a cry of pain as he continues, each strike more intense than the last.
My breath comes in shallow bursts as the whip continues to fall, each strike leaving a mark on my skin. With every blow, I feel a fire burning within me, a mixture of pain and pleasure that leaves me both weak and strong at the same time.
As he continues to flog me, I can feel my body responding to his dominance, my desires and fears mixed in a way I never thought possible. I want him to take me, to claim me as his own, but I'm also terrified of the power he holds over me.
Finally, he stops, the whip hanging limp in his hand. I collapse to the ground, my skin alight. Stripes flare across my ass. My core pulses. My pussy is hot and bothered, throbbing for his touch.
He kneels on the floor beside me, his significant, strong presence welcome and unwanted all at once. His breath is hot, his lips soft as he tortures my ear with his words. “Beg me to touch you.”
I should say no. Should fight. Should leave this room.
But I know that for this moment, I’ve lost.
“P—please. Please?—”
He moves closer, his strong arm circling my bare waist. “Say my name, Fiona. I want to hear my name on your tongue.”
“Callum. Please.” My fingers wrap around his forearm. His skin is warm, and the hair is soft, but all muscle and control beneath.
“There’s my love, there’s my good girl.” He drags me back up to a kneeling position.
