“What’s our word, babe?”

“Kashmir!” he barked.

“Are you calling Kashmir on me?”

“No!”

“Good. Turn over.”

Phil’s chest shuddered with his awesome breaths, his body strung up tight. He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself, and then rolled onto his stomach. The contact of the bed with his erection made him moan. Turning to face me, he watched as I removed his thick leather belt from his cargoes.

“Holy fuckin’ shit, Kenna! What are you gonna do?”

Shrugging with mock confidence, I replied, “Whatever I need to do to get out all this aggression that’s been building up. You know how it is.”

“I ain’t ever beat you with a belt!”

“No…you only shoved that monster cock up my dry ass and told me to take it.”

Having nothing to retort with, he turned his face into the pillow. Phil’s ass really was an epic piece of flesh. It should be illegal for a man to have an ass like that.

Folding the belt in half, I grabbed each end and tugged hard, creating a resounding snap to echo through the room. Phil jumped, his ass cheeks clenching, and he buried his head deeper into the pillow. His shoulders tensed, bunching, as his arms tugged on the silk cord bounding his wrists. I started to wonder if I could go through with it.

“Oh my God, woman!” he yelled. “Fuckin’ do it already!”

Well, I can damn well give it a shot.

Climbing back onto the bed, I got myself into a steady stance on my knees. I raised and crossed my arm over my chest and let that fucker fly.

“AUGH!”

Fuck yeah.

A fat red welt rose up across both of his cheeks, and I lovingly licked it. “That was fun.” I laughed.

“Fuck you!”

Crack!

“AAUUGH!” he roared. That time, he ground his pelvis into the bed.

“You nasty freak! You liked that!”

Shuddering and panting, Phil broke out into a sweat all over, even behind his knees. I pulled my arm back to deliver another stinging blow.

“Argh! Fuck!”

“You ever going to treat me like that again?” I asked.

“Fuck you!”

Crack!

“SHIT!” His screams could probably alert the neighbors to domestic violence.

Feeling giddy, I laughed before demanding, “Are you?”

His ass looked like it was on fire. I hadn’t broken the skin, and I didn’t want to, but I noticed the tail end had a bruise blooming.

“Would it matter? Wouldn’t you forgive me anyway?”

I crouched down, my mouth right next to his ear. “Would you really want to test that?”

“No,” he answered truthfully. “No, Baby. I never wanna hurt you like that again. I swear, it killed me inside. Please…can I have one more?”

Glancing down at his flaming arse, I bit my lip. “I think I might have gotten carried away. You’re getting bruised.”

“One more,” he begged. “Just one more.”

A deep breath steadied me, and I rose up, arm across my chest, belt over my shoulder, and then I let one last beating whistle through the air before connecting with his welted-up perfect ass.

“FUCK!” he screamed, grinding into the bed again. “Baby, I’m gonna come. I’m so fuckin’ close.”

“Roll over,” I snapped.

He flipped onto his back, sucking air through his teeth. “Ohhh fuuuck!”

“How do you want me?”

“Sitting on my face with my dick in your mouth,” he replied.

Quickly, I untied his wrists, and he grabbed me. In the blink of an eye, I found myself straddling his head, and his hand was sliding up the back of my neck, fisting into my hair.

“Fuckin’ suck me dry!” he snarled.

Then, his mouth was on me, and I ceased to think at all. He shoved my head down, and I took him to the back of my throat where he spurted hot and thick. His powerful ecstatic moan buzzed through my clit, my cunt, up into my nipples.

“Don’t stop,” he said harshly. “Keep goin’.”

Phil’s soft lips and tongue devoured me—sucking, licking, kissing—until I cried out around his once more throbbing cock as I convulsed from clit to sternum. Limp and trembling, he threw me off him and pounced on me, thrusting into me hard and fast.

“How do you want me, Baby? You want me to make love to you? Or you want me to fuck you stupid?”

“Fuck me stupid,” I replied breathlessly.

Slamming his mouth on mine, he slicked the taste of me onto my tongue.

“You like it when I taste like you?” he asked.

“Fuck yes!”

“Yeah, me, too,” he growled.

My gorgeous, wonderful Phil held nothing back, his cock pile-driving me into a state of utter bliss. He stretched his long fingers through my hair and pulled, exposing my neck for him to score his teeth over. I dug my fingers into the flesh of his back, gripping fistfuls of muscle with bruising force.

I came and came and came.

“Make love to me now…” I whimpered, feeling deliciously battered and bruised.

Like a switch flipping, he turned gentle and sweet, thoroughly kissing me. He rode in and out with easy slick strokes, making me come one last time as he himself dripped over the edge.

“I love you,” he whispered against my mouth, his cock twitching hard inside me.

Phil pressed his Third Eye to mine, and my brain filled with the terror, pain, loss, heartache, hope, elation, frustration, fear, longing, desire, anguish, and love he had felt these last few weeks. Leaving had never been an option, but he had desperately tried to figure out how to make us whole again.

“Damn, Phil…”

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, Kenna. I died that day with you. My heart…she was gone.”

“It’s not like I did it on purpose!”

“I don’t care. I can’t exist without you.”

Phil had had a few days where it was a little difficult for him to sit down without wincing, and though I’d questioned whether I should have taken it as far as it had gone, he’d had no complaints.

Freak. I’d catch him grinning when he felt the soreness.

It wasn’t like he wanted a beating every time we would have sex. It was saved for rare occasions. He had encouraged me to bite him more though. I was really wondering if maybe he should give Sheri’s therapist a call. Not that I wondered too hard.

Apparently, I was a freak, too, because I’d liked it just as much. Maybe I should be the one calling a therapist…

About a week after my hearing had come back, Phil had wanted to discuss my plans for the future. To be honest, I hadn’t even thought of what I was supposed to do.

Sitting at the kitchen island, chowing down on sushi, he looked at me, and I knew something was up.

“Have you given any thoughts to what you wanna do now?” he asked.

As though a great weight had descended upon my shoulders, I sagged on my stool. “What would you have me do, Phil?”

“Marry me, and give me my fat little giant babies,” he promptly replied.

“Besides that, ass!”

Mixing some soy sauce with wasabi, he said, “I want you to consider maybe working for me. For us. You know, NOLA’s Records.”

“Huh?”

He nodded and shoved a piece of sushi into his mouth. “Yeah.”

“Doing what?”

He shrugged.

“Listen here, caveman, quit being all coy, and just spit it out.”

Laying his chopsticks down, he laced his fingers together and rested his chin on top. “I want you to talent-scout for us. You’d let us know when you hear or see really good bands and write up reviews for us. That way, you could come on tour, for the whole tour, and you could give us and the crew treatments and do your doctor thing to keep you happy.”

“Do my doctor thing?”

“You know what I mean. Look, if it had just been Rita who had died and not the fuckin’ clinic blowin’ up, I wouldn’t be askin’ this of you. You worked your ass off to be what you are, but I also know it ain’t what you really want to do. Will you think about it?”