The first crack of his belt over her thighs was more a caress than an outright strike of leather against tender flesh. He stood close, at her hip, and his c**k nudged ever harder against her.

“You won’t hurt me,” she whispered. “Do it again. Please.”

He groaned and another strike fell, this one a bit harder, and the sting built into warmth. Hormones surged inside her, endorphins responding to the pain. She’d never felt anything like it and she craved more, arching back to him.

Another fell as he experimented with the strength of the strike and how to hold it, where to use it. She closed her eyes and let herself fall into the place where feeling became everything. Each successive strike of his belt—on her ass and thighs, sometimes the bite of the belt flicking against the tender, swollen lips of her pu**y—pushed her farther and farther away, until she felt like she floated.

The fire on her flesh brought her nerve endings to vivid life. Her senses were fine-tuned. She felt everything—the cool air on her skin, the warmth of his body behind her, the breeze that preceded each stroke of his belt.

She heard the strangled moan he made and then the belt dropped to the couch in front of her, in her line of sight, where it could taunt her.

His fingers drew over the heat on her ass and thighs and she wondered what it looked like, what he saw. She knew how it made him feel. His c**k seeped pre-come against her hip; his movements, though gentle, were slightly jerky.

His instincts where her pleasure was concerned were scarily accurate. Somehow this made sense to her, as she’d always felt such a deep connection to him.

His fingers found her cunt swollen and wet, blooming just for him. He trailed a finger over the flesh of her thigh, her own juices cool against that heat. “You don’t know how hard it makes me to see your pu**y so wet for me. To know your cunt is hungry for my cock.” His voice was thick and hoarse.

He licked a trail from the back of her neck all the way down her spine. His fingertips traced the design of her tattoo. Pressing gentle kisses over her ass and down her thighs, he pushed her legs open wider with his hands. She gasped as his mouth opened over her pu**y.

“I love looking at you this way.” Tongue and lips, he devoured her for several long moments and pulled back. “Damn, so sweet. Your clit is so pretty there, peeking out of its hood, wanting attention.”

The flat of his tongue pressed over it, moving it around against his taste buds. “And this.” He tickled his pinky over the puckered star of her anus. “This little hole. How is it that every part of you is so damned beautiful and sexy?”

All she could do was moan.

His middle finger teased around her gate as his mouth found her clit again. He tormented her that way for a very long time, until he finally stood up. Dimly, she heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper in the background and he was back, pushing into her body with inexorable strength.

She arched, taking him as deeply as possible. He reached around, grabbing a nipple in one hand and sliding down to her clit with the other. He tug, tug, tugged the ring, sending bright shards of pleasure through her when she wasn’t sure she had any left to give.

But he continued to f**k into her, slow and deep, while he played with her clit. All it took was a few gentle squeezes between slippery fingers and the orgasm he’d been carefully crafting over the last minutes exploded through her.

Writhing helplessly as he thrust deep into her body, she continued to come, cunt clasping around his cock. But he held on, continuing to stroke deep into her. His hands had moved back to her hips, where he gripped her, keeping her at precisely the angle he wanted.

She lost herself in receiving him, in her body making way for his over and over until he finally thrust one last time, deep, and came.

He stumbled away a step to get rid of the condom, pressing a kiss at the small of her back before he left.

In the bathroom he splashed water on his face and stared at his reflection. His pupils were large, his skin flushed with sex. With something more. He’d never used a belt, or anything other than his hand, on a woman. The high of it rode him, surged through his senses. He’d loved it, loved watching her skin turn pink, loved the slight welts he’d made. He worried at first that he’d hurt her, but he listened to her sounds, watched her body language, and if the slickness of her pu**y had been any indication, she enjoyed it too.

He went back out to her, knowing she might need a bit of snuggling. He wanted her to understand that what had happened, despite its roughness, was tender on his part. He hoped it hadn’t been too much, so soon after she’d told him that little bit about her daughter. Hoped he hadn’t made a mistake.

She was in the kitchen, singing as she dug through the fridge. Still naked, her ass and thighs still bore welts, and he felt awful even as the sight hardened his cock. She turned to him, smiling.

“Thirsty?” She drank deeply from a bottle of water, holding a spare one his way.

“Are you all right?”

She set the water down and moved to him, sliding into his arms like they were made just for her to be in them. “I’m more than all right.”

“I just never, ever want to harm you. I don’t want you to fear me. You’re precious to me.”

She looked up into his face. “I’m not afraid of you, Todd. I wouldn’t have allowed you to do any of this if I hadn’t trusted you not to harm me.”

“I don’t know how to do this. I’m sure you’re more experienced with it.”

She laughed. “I know what I like, but I wouldn’t say I was experienced. I’ve played over the years.” She put a hand on his cheek as he began to blush, thinking about her with other men. “But never what we’ve had between us. We’ll learn together. There’s no ‘Big Rule Book of Bondage’ or anything. It’s about what works for us. And the belt works for me.” She fanned her face and his angst lifted.