Crack!

Biting his lip, he moaned behind his teeth. His copper-colored skin was turning a crispy red. After the first beating, I’d learned to ease up. If I used a lighter hand, he could take more, which was what he wanted in the first place.

Crack!

He liked the noise, too.

Phil jumped each time the leather kissed his skin, and a blissful look would cross his face.

I had my theories, of course. To be honest, it was a little disturbing, but I thought maybe it reminded him of a time when he had had his mother’s attention. Most of the time, Margot Deveraux had ignored her son, but there were times when her full wrath had descended upon him, and she’d beat him in her drunken state. I had a feeling ass-smacking had been her method of discipline, and the little boy in him had taken that as a sign of her giving a shit.

Not that that was what he was after in this instance. Not really. It had taken him a long time to figure out that he liked pain in a sexual way.

Rudely, I checked out his cock again. Engorged, its heaviness was starting to lift.

“Don’t stop,” he begged quietly.

“I won’t.” I pulled back my arm and delivering another blow, this time lower, below his buttocks.

“Oh, fuck!” he hissed, his back and neck arching.

These sort of sessions weren’t frequent in any case.

Crack!

“Oh my God, Baby Girl,” he groaned. “I fuckin’ love that.”

Whizzing through the air, the belt whipped around and licked his inner thigh.

“Shit!” he shouted.

I checked out his cock again. It was fully erect and oozing clear fluid from the bulbous tip.

“You want some more?” I asked.

“Yes, please.”

“Are you going to fuck me after?”

He moaned and dropped his head forward.

“Tell me.”

“Yes.”

Crack!

“What do you plan on doing to me?”

Silence.

“Well?”

“Hush, Baby Girl. I’m tryin’ not to come.”

I laughed outright.

His long hair had slipped from behind his ears, hiding his face from me. Stepping close, I reached up and tucked it back once more. He was smiling sweetly.

“If you won’t tell me, I’ll stop spanking you.”

“I know. But I’m afraid if I start tellin’ you and you’re spankin’ me, then I’m gonna come all over the fuckin’ rug.”

“Yeah, that might be hard to get out.”

Sucking in a deep breath, he said, “I’m gonna fuck you from behind.”

Taking a step back, I let the belt fly.

Crack!

“On all fours.”

Crack!

I’d hit right across the cheeks, and brilliant crimson welts crisscrossed his magnificent bum. I had to admit, the freak in me liked the sight of it very much. My own sex was damp and throbbing for him.

“I’m gonna wrap my fist with your hair.” His eyes closed as he pictured the scene he was reciting for me. “And I’ll fuckin’ pull until you scream.”

Crack!

“Oh…fuuuck…” he moaned. “Just one more, Kenna. Make it a good one.”

I put a bit more strength behind the last one, and the crack was painful to the ears as well.

Snatching the belt from my hand, Phil tossed it to the floor, and then he picked me up and tossed me onto the bed.

“Hands and knees,” he snarled.

I obeyed that voice as though it were a command from the gods. His hand connected sharply with my ass, causing me to yelp.

“Fuck, you got the most perfect ass, woman.”

The mushroom cap slicked its way through the lips of my sex, searching for the entrance, and then Phil sank in all the way. As promised, he grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled.

“I ain’t gonna make love to you this time.”

“Good,” I replied, pushing back into his groin. “Make it hurt, babe.”

After smoothly gliding out, he rammed back into me.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled. “Most fuckin’ awesome pussy ever created.”

By my hair, he pulled me into a kneeling position and forced my head to the side, so he could claim a tongue-sucking deep kiss. His hand slipped between my thighs, brushing over my clit and then past it to touch where our bodies joined. From hole to clit, he rubbed and then lightly slapped my cunt.

I gasped. Warmth spread from my clit to deep into my core. Phil’s hooded gaze bored into mine.

“Do it again,” I whispered.

He slapped and then rubbed my clit.

Slapped and rubbed.

His mouth devoured mine as he continued to strum and slap my cunt. I could feel the thick calluses on his fingers as he tenderly administered to the delicate, sensitive flesh.

It took a few moments, but I realized he must be hearing something wonderful in his head, and he was playing it with me as his instrument.

“Sing it!” I gasped, almost hearing it for myself.

The beats, the sensuous rhythm, the gentle pluck of his fingers were pulling at me…

“My Other Half. /

You complete me in ways I did not foresee. /

Never have I known you’d create the breath in me.”

His rich timbre caressed the words he had written for me, singing them, creating them in the language of the soul. He’d told me he wasn’t going to make love to me, but I didn’t think he knew how not to anymore.

“That you would be the Light that guides /

Or the Voice of Reason in my mind.”

Once more, I was swept up into a realm of complete and utter bliss as his voice carried me, elevating me to heights only he could.

“Phil…” I moaned.

He continued to chant, strum, pump, and slap.

“Spiraling through space and time.”

He moaned, growing impossibly hard inside me.

“As two halves of one soul must do.”

With his free hand, he turned my face toward his. His lips were against my own, his breath filling me.

“We’ll come full circle, you and me.”

Imploding on him as he exploded into me, our mutual cries were muted as our mouths pressed against one another’s.

Whatever had just happened, it had been most profound. I suspected that he’d snatched another bit of my soul for himself. But it was all right. He had replaced it with a bit of his own.

From Houston to Dallas, from Dallas to St. Louis, from St. Louis to Chicago, then to Milwaukee, and to Des Moines before Denver…such had been life on the road.

I’d kept busy with giving people treatments, working with Lewis on the cookbook, and doing fucking laundry. The situation had been made easier, in more ways than one, with the addition of Quinn.

At least the girl wasn’t loud in the sack. She would keep the bus clean as a way of earning her place. Either that, or she was a total head case about hygiene. The woman would scrub the bathroom down on a daily basis, so the head-case thing might actually be a viable deduction.

Over the weeks, I had seen Brigid less and less. She was now fully a part of the Cannibals’ bandwagon. The times I had run into her, she had been nearly unrecognizable. She’d looked exhausted, rundown, and used.

The tour bus pulled into the campgrounds for the Seattle venue, and Devon’s bus pulled into the space right next to ours.

He and the guys had formed some bizarre alliance. After the show in New Orleans, Phil and Devon had sat down with the rest of NOLA’s Junk. They’d laid everything out there, and the guys had welcomed Devon back into the fold.

Cornered Cannibal hadn’t shown up yet. It was in the best interests of everyone involved to pretend there wasn’t anything going on between NOLA’s Junk and Devon GianFranco.

Lewis and I made a huge breakfast after the bus had parked.

“Why don’t we bring some food over to Devon?” I asked Phil as we finished.

Phil smiled sweetly. “Sure.”

I piled a Tupperware full of scrambled eggs, bacon, waffles, and fruit salad, and then we headed over to Devon’s bus. Phil draped his arm around my shoulders and knocked on the door.