He kept up the quick cadence while he thrust his fingers inside her. She was welting gorgeously, the red marks rising on her skin. He could smell her desire, the scent of her hair, mixing into some intoxicating perfume. And he was hard as steel, as hard as any of his canes. She was so damn beautiful it was overwhelming, and never more so than at this moment, as her body surrendered what her psyche didn’t want to. But even that inner struggle was beautiful to him.

Her hot little pussy tightened and he ordered her, “No, Summer Grace. Do not come.” He gave her left thigh a hard smack that had her crying out. “That’s right. Your climax is your gift to me. It’s mine. Say it.”

She’s mine. She belongs to me, damn it.

“Yes, it’s yours. I come for you, Jamie.”

Her words hit him like a small blow to the chest. It wasn’t the first time he’d made her say such a thing to him, but the words carried more power than ever before. He had to pause and take a breath, shaking his head.

Get it under control.

He gave her thigh another sharp crack with the evil cane.

“Ow! God . . .”

He did it again, spreading his fingers inside her, opening her up.

“Jamie . . .”

“Are you safewording?”

“What? No.”

He hit her across both thighs.

“Ah, God!”

“Wrong name, sweetheart.”

And again.

“Ah! Fuck. Jamie.”

She was writhing, and he could see the pain and pleasure warring in her body. And she was soaking wet, flooding his hand with each stroke of the cane, which told him pleasure was winning. He wanted to bring her pleasure. Wanted to bring her pain. For her. For him. He needed to know she trusted him this much. That she wanted this. That she wanted him to be the one who did these things to her. Only him.

Fuck.

He dropped the cane and bent to unhook her ankle cuffs, then her wrists, and she fell into his arms. He kissed her cheeks, her closed eyelids, as he carried her to the leather love seat next to the giant web. He sat with her in his lap, stroking her hair from her flushed cheeks. And cursed himself as tears spilled from beneath her closed eyelids.

“Baby, baby,” he murmured.

“Jamie,” she gasped, blinking, her arms winding around his neck.

“What is it? Are you okay?”

She buried her face in his neck, and he loved the warmth of her breath there, but he had to have an answer. He took her face in his hand, forcing her gaze to his. Her blue eyes were glazed with tears and need, her lids heavy. And Christ, he’d never seen anyone more beautiful.

“Tell me, Summer Grace.”

“It’s just . . . You’ve never played me so hard before.”

“Too hard?”

She shook her head, her blonde hair all over the place, like scattered corn silk. “It’s like everything I’ve ever needed. I had no idea—no idea! It’s not just the pain. It’s the way you command me, Jamie. I didn’t know I would love it this much.”

“Ah, sugar, those words are like gold to me. You have no idea.”

And he couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t give voice to the fact that she was probably as close to perfect as any woman would ever be for him. That he didn’t think he could survive if he lost her now. Because that little fact scared the shit out of him. But she was here. He could be with her. Touch her, hold her, play her. Make her come in a way neither of them would ever forget.

He kissed her cheek, her lips, opened up her eager mouth with his tongue, sucking hers in. Sweet as pie, his girl. And her hot mouth was as hungry as his. She was squirming in his lap as he kissed her, and he’d never been so damn hard in his life. He was going to fucking burst—just come all over her perfect ass in his lap like some kid.

He groaned, pulling his mouth away. She started to pout until he pressed a hand between her thighs once more, forcing them apart. He dove into her hair with his other hand, grasping it tightly at the roots, and pulled, forcing her to lie back against the arm of the love seat while his fingers plunged in and out of her.

“Not yet,” he warned, and she groaned in answer, biting her lush lower lip.

She ground down against his erection and he slipped his fingers from her. “Look at me,” he ordered.

Her lashes fluttered and she focused her gaze on his, watching him, her pupils widening as he slid his fingers, wet with her juices, into his mouth and sucked.

“You want to come, sugar girl?”

“Yes, please, Jamie. Please . . .”

“Wait for my command.”

He lowered his hand and began to squeeze and pinch her clit, then pushed his fingers into her tight pussy once more.

“Ah . . .”

“Hold it back.”

He began a slow rhythm, fucking her with two fingers, then three, and her hips were arching, working his fingers. He let her hair go to wrap his other hand around her throat, and her eyes opened wide as he pressed down a bit, carefully listening to her restricted breathing even as he continued to thrust inside her, his thumb on her hard clit.

“Oh yeah, you feel so damn good. So wet for me, sugar. Do you know how hard I’m going to fuck you? Do you know how badly I need to lick you? To eat you up? To taste your come on my lips?”

He moved his hand faster, plunging into her while she panted. Her struggle to hold her orgasm back was a beautiful thing—the exquisite beauty of her face torn in an agony of pleasure. When he told her, “Now!” her face twisted, and she screamed as she came.

Her body shook as he fucked her hard with his hand, faster and faster, deeper and deeper. Her eyes rolled back and he released her throat, sliding his hand to her breast, pinching the luscious pink nipple. And had to order himself not to come with her as he worked her up again. Her body rose, arching into his hand, and her breath was a sharp, panting rasp as her inner walls clenched around his pumping fingers, as she started to come once more. His whole body ached to be inside her, but he kept working her with his hands, watching a dark blush rise on her breasts, her face, as her climax made her shake, her voice a raw cry.

She was still trembling, her muscles spasming, when he lifted her in his arms and stalked across the dungeon floor to the hall that led to the private rooms at the back of the club. He went through the first door he found open—a room with black-painted walls and nothing in it but a high canopy bed draped in black and silver brocade and a side table supplied with condoms, lube and bottled water. But all of that was nothing more than a blur at the edges of his vision. The rest was filled up with Summer Grace—her smooth babyskin, her gorgeous breasts.

He laid her on the bed as gently as he could, which wasn’t very gently at that moment. He was too shaken by her, by the overwhelming lust he felt for her. The pure need that went far beyond even the raw physical desire—that went to that place where he needed to be as close to her as possible.

He stripped his clothes off as quickly as he could, the damn leather pants slowing him down, But finally he was naked. He grabbed a condom and climbed on top of her. She was still panting, languid and spent. But he intended to spend her more tonight—and himself.

She watched him through hazy blue eyes as he knelt over her to roll the condom onto his painfully hard cock. As he spread her thighs wide, pushing her knees up to her shoulders and holding them there, he paused to take in the beautiful sight of her pink pussy, the lips and clit swollen and tender-looking, before he plowed into her wet heat.

He threw his head back, pleasure momentarily stunning him, driving deep. His legs, his arms, shook, his cock pulsing. He bit back a groan and slid slowly out, every inch agony, beautiful, orgasm building inside him like a thundercloud ready to burst. He surged back into her, and desire rolled through him—sharp. Dazzling.