Chapter 48
JADE
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WE SHED OUR robes inside the guest house. He lifts me into his arms, carrying me the short distance to the bed, his lips never leaving mine.
“We should stay here all week,” he growls.
“You trying to hide me away?”
“Never. I just don’t want to share you.”
He doesn’t toss me this time. Instead, he lowers me to the bed, dragging himself down with me. My head turns sideways when his mouth claims my neck. The clipboard is beside me, inches from us.
“I want to try something.” My voice quivers just enough to sound like a tease.
He lifts his head, and his gaze follows mine to the clipboard. “You want to write a schedule? A pros and cons list of the reasons why we should stay here? I can show you.”
I take a deep breath. “I want to try spanking.”
His eyes widen.
“Spanking you.” I can’t believe I brave the words.
His eyes really take in the clipboard now. “You want to spank me? With that?”
“Yes.” I bite my lip, trying to hide my nerves.
I’d never ask another soul on the planet. I know that now. I can’t explain why, but with Hart, I know he won’t judge me, or mock me, or hurt me for any kinks, fetishes, or desires I might have.
“Just lightly. We can see if you like it.”
He swallows hard and shifts uncomfortably. “I can tell you right now, I don’t.”
“You’ve tried?”
“I escaped with welts.”
“Then I want you to spank me.”
He freezes and pulls back more, searching my face. “You want me to spank you?”
Heat floods my cheeks, but I don’t look away. “Yes, please.”
His brows knit, unsure. “I’ve never—”
“You’ve never spanked a woman?” Why does my excitement have to sound so chipper?
He shakes his head.
I smile, pushing him off to kneel beside him and grab the clipboard. “Perfect. A first we can do together.” I hand it to him, and he takes it reluctantly.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” I brush a kiss across his lips.
He swallows, still hesitant. “You’re serious.”
I nod, biting my lip. “Dead serious.”
I lie on my stomach, sheets warm under me, heart hammering. I tuck my arms under my chest, fingers gripping the fabric, trying to calm myself. My legs stretch out, slightly bent at the knees, toes curling into the sheets as a shiver runs through me.
I feel tense, exposed, and every little brush of his hand or the clipboard sends sparks across my skin.
The mattress shifts as he kneels beside me, clipboard in hand, fingers brushing over my hips.
I glance at it, then at him, pulse racing at the thought of him using it on me.
“Ready?” His voice is low, testing, and I hear the hesitation underneath.
I nod, biting my lip. “Yes. I trust you.”
He bends down and kisses the back of my head. “Why do you have to say those words right now?” he hisses in my ear. “When I’m about to punish you.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. “Start soft. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”
“I’m going to use my hand first.” He hovers behind me, and I feel the thrill of anticipation coil tight in my belly.
“Okay.” My body is tense, every nerve alive, waiting for that first tap, the start of this new, electric experience.
Silence stretches for a moment. Then his palm rests gently against me, warm. A beat later—
Smack.
The sound shocks us both.
I gasp—half from the sting, half from the thrill. It wasn’t hard, not really. Just enough to make me jolt and gasp. Heat spreads instantly across my skin.
He freezes. “Too much?”
I shake my head quickly, glancing back at him with a smirk I don’t quite feel brave enough for. “No. Not even close. Again,” I breathe, already trembling for more.
Another pause. Then his hand lifts.
Smack.
This one lands firmer. A sharp sting follows a rush of warmth that makes my thighs press together. My breath hitches, and before I can stop myself, a sound—half-moan, half-cry—escapes my lips.
He swears under his breath. “Did I hurt you?”
His palm lingers against my skin, rubbing over the warmth like he’s checking for damage. The contrast, from sting to soothing, makes my pulse race faster.
I glance at him. “Again.”
And that’s when I see the hesitation in his eyes shift into something else.
“You’re really into this,” he mutters, half to himself.
“Only if you keep going,” I shoot back, braver now.
He huffs a laugh, nervous but intrigued. “You’re gonna have to tell me if I’m doing it wrong.”
I arch my hips toward him, daring. “You’ll know if you’re doing it wrong.”
For a beat, he stares, and then his hand comes down again. I jolt forward with a gasp, heat rippling through me, and before I could catch my breath—
Smack. Smack.
My body rocks with each one, pressing into the mattress and pushing back into his hand without thinking.
“Holy shit.” A laugh breaks out of him. “You actually like this.”
“Hit me again,” I snap.
He obliges.
Smack.
I let out a moan that chokes his laugh.
“Harder.”
He hesitates and then gives me one that cracks louder than the rest. The sting is blooming hot. I yelp, but the sound melts into a throaty whimper I can’t control.
“Oh, fuck,” he growls, with what very much sounds like a part moan.
I twist just enough to look back at him over my shoulder. His cheeks burn, and his brows knit so tightly together. But there’s enjoyment spread across his features.
“You liked that.” It’s not a question.
“Did you like it?” His hand hovers over me, twitching like he can’t decide whether to spank me again or grab me everywhere at once.
“I loved it.”
“You loved it?” He doesn’t wait for my answer, and his hand lands firmly.
Smack.
The sting catches my breath, but the way he lingers, pressing his palm into the heat he’d left behind, makes my whole body shiver.
“You like being marked up?” His voice is rougher now, the hesitance edge replaced by heavier teasing.
My answer is a sound I can’t control, my hips tilting back against his touch, begging without words.
“Fuck,” he mutters, like he can’t believe me.
Then his hand came down again—harder, sharper.
I cry out, my fingers clutching the sheets. The sting throbs hot, spreading, and before I can catch my breath, another lands on the opposite cheek.
I gasp, rocking forward, the ache between my thighs growing.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re—” His words cut off as he spanks me again, the sound cracking through the room, and my moan following right after.
Left cheek.
Right cheek.
Each one sharp, stinging, then soothed by his palm or the drag of his fingers over my heated skin. I didn’t expect to enjoy this so much. It’s almost embarrassing my ache for more.
Then his other hand slides between my thighs, cupping me, pressing into the heat that’s been building with every smack.
I gasp, clenching the sheets. “Oh, Hart—”
“You’re soaked,” he mutters against my ear.
His fingers press harder, teasing me, then pulling back just as his palm comes down on my ass again. The mix of pain and desperate pleasure makes me whimper.
“Say it,” he demands, his voice low, and I love the dominating control behind it. “Say you like it.”
“I—” A moan tears through me as his hand smacks down again. “I love it.”
His mouth is on my neck, hot and wet, kissing, biting, soothing the sting even as his palm keeps its pace behind me.
Smack. Smack.
Every sound echoes against my moans.
I tremble now, clutching at the sheets, my body arching into him without thought.
“Can’t believe this is what it does to you,” he growls against my ear. “You’re fucking vibrating.”
“Don’t stop.” My voice is broken and needy.
The next smack comes with his fingers plunging inside me. The sting and stretch collide until I’m crying out his name.
“That’s it.” His fingers drive into me faster as he spanks me harder. “Take it. Take all of it.”
The coil in my stomach tightens and splinters in a burst of molten heat.
My toes curl, fingers clutching the sheets, and I shiver through my entire body.
Each strike, each stroke of his fingers, pushes me higher, until my body is trembling, hard and hot, overwhelming, and riding the sting and the pleasure together.
I collapse against the bed, chest heaving, still tingling from the aftershocks. His hands hover for a moment, steadying, soothing, letting me feel the warmth of him even as my body slowly unravels.
“That was fucking hot,” he murmurs, voice low and satisfied, lips brushing my ear as I catch my breath.
And all I can do is, still riding the lingering heat, realizing I never expected to love it this much—but I do.
Every single second.
He presses a kiss to the small of my back, then drags his lips across the marks he left. “I didn’t hurt you too much, did I?”
“Not at all,” I breathe. “I loved it.”
He chuckles, a low, satisfied sound, and rubs the stinging spots with tender pressure. “You’re a little firecracker,” he says, smirking. “Gonna make me want to do this again.”
I turn onto my back. “We can reverse roles.”