Page 99 of Point of Contention

Goosebumps spread out over her skin.

Sweat beaded up along the length of her spine, and I reached to drag my finger through it, from the crest of her ass to the back of her neck, leaning down to whisper. “And now?”

“Eight,” she said, the word breathless.

“Interesting.”

Rising back to my feet, I smacked her again, harder this time.

She cried out louder, but another tremor shook her frame, the wood creaking beneath her from the force of it.

She was going to come if I continued.

I liked my lips, then lifted the paddle and brought it back down.

And again she cried out in pain, then shook with pleasure.

Her hips began to jerk as she fought to claim her orgasm. Turning the paddle vertically, I positioned it between her legs and she froze. A shiver shook her shoulders. Her back arched on each heavy intake of breath.

I lifted the paddle, then smacked it against her folds quickly but gently.

“Ahh, fuck,” she groaned. “Yes.”

Her hips rocked, gyrating as I smacked her pussy again, my cock swelling painfully against my jeans. I ran my hand down and cupped it, massaging it through the denim as I watched Rylan come undone. She grunted and moaned, jerking her hips and riding out each wave as I smacked her wet pussy and drove her to the edge. Pride filled me as she finished, so fucking beautiful. Spent and exhausted, her body went weightless, draping over the bench.

I stepped between her legs, then lowered to my knees behind her and leaned forward, dragging my tongue through her seam in one slow, savoring stroke.

She shivered again, and though I’d planned to fuck her in front of all of these people, the urge to take her home outweighed the desire to prove to them who she belonged to.

I’d collared her; that would have to be enough.

When she was like this, so fucking beautiful after having been driven to the edge, I wanted nothing more than to sink inside of her—but something about that was quickly becoming sacred.

Something aboutuswas quickly becoming sacred.

Making love to this woman was holy.

Private.

Mine.

I motioned to the DG that the scene had ended and he began clearing the viewing area so I could care for Rylan in peace.

She was quiet during the aftercare portion of the scene, introspective as I tended to the red patches and welts on her skin. Her eyes followed my every move, watching me like a hawk, studying the way I cared for her without saying a word. I helped her dress, then we made our way to the parking garage, where I walked her to the passenger side of the Bugatti and eased her inside.

She hissed as she settled into the seat, the first noise I’d heard out of her in a good thirty-five minutes, then she propped herself up on one hip, sort of leaning to the side and tried to get comfortable with bruises blooming across her backside.

When she was settled, I closed the door and walked around the car, my heart in my throat. Her silence sent me spiraling into my thoughts.

I’d pushed her too far.

I should have known better, should have known she wouldn’t safe out even if she needed to.

Fear shot through my veins. Shame bloomed in my chest, itchy and heavy.

Once behind the wheel, I pressed the ignition button and the car purred to life, then I breathed deeply and turned toward her. “Rylan, I—”

“Why didn’t we have sex?”