Echo (Bleeding Hearts #1)(22)

His fingers trailed along my spine and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Shhh…” He leaned forward and pressed his lips against the back of my neck. “It’s okay, baby girl. Just breathe for me.”

I took a couple deep breaths, and he kissed his way back down my spine, distracting me. I didn’t like it. I didn’t want him to be gentle or try to comfort me when he was playing these sick games.

“You have a beautiful back,” he murmured. “Every part of you is beautiful, but this…” He pressed his fingers into the dimples on my lower back and squeezed. “This was meant to be naked.”

Something else trailed along my skin then, and it wasn’t his fingers. It was soft, yet hard at the same time. Leather.

I squeezed my eyes shut and took another deep breath, willing myself to stay calm. I could do this. I could do this. I had to do this.

“Do you remember what I said in the agreement about your body?” he asked.

“How could I forget?”

A small sting spread across my skin when he tapped it with the belt. “I’m not playing games here, Brighton. When I ask you a question, I expect an answer.”

“You said my body belongs to you,” I snarled.

He laughed then, stroking his hands over my back again. He couldn’t seem to stop touching it.

“That attitude is going to get you nowhere,” he replied. “But nonetheless, it does amuse me that you still think you’re above admitting it. Am I not up to your standards, my little lotus flower? The high and mighty daughter of Frank Gallo thinks she is too good for me?”

There was clear venom in his words, and it was obvious he was taunting me. It had the intended effect.

“You think you know so much about me?” I spat. “You didn’t do your homework well enough because he was never anything more than a sperm donor. Now let’s get this over with.”

“Very well.” His voice was pure silk now. “I’m going to count to ten,” he explained. “And every time I strike you, I want you to repeat part four of our agreement, verbatim. Do you remember what that is, Brighton?”

“My body is yours to do with as you please,” I stated blandly.

“That’s it,” he praised me. “See, I knew you were a clever girl. But don’t stumble over the words or forget to say it, because if you do, that means we have to start over. Understand?”

“Perfectly,” I snapped.

I wasn’t prepared. I thought he was going to draw it out longer as he seemed to be relishing that idea today. So when the first strike sang down against my ass, his voice sounded like it was under water when he counted the first blow.

I reared up in surprise, and he pushed me right back down with a firm palm in the center of my back.

“Forgetting something?” he asked.

“My body is yours to do with as you please,” I panted.

“Good girl.”

It didn’t really hurt the first time. I learned that the second time when he hit me harder in a different place. It was more the shock of it than anything, but my natural instinct was to try to get away.

He swatted me harder still and grabbed my hips to pull me back into place. “You’re making it harder than it has to be, Brighton,” he admonished. “Now we have to start over.”

I whimpered, but I learned my lesson. I clamped my jaw and curled my fingers into the bedspread if I needed to, but I never moved. And with every number he rattled off, I echoed his claim on my body. With every blow, my skin flooded with warmth, and my voice raised to a crescendo.

I was on fire, everywhere. My core ached, and even my breasts were heavy and full. I didn’t understand it. But somewhere along the way, the discomfort had subsided. I had transcended the pain and embraced a euphoric high I’d never even known existed.

It wasn’t until I heard myself moan that I realized the belt was long gone. In its place was him, thrusting into me so hard he sounded possessed. I was still screaming out part four of our agreement with every thrust. I couldn’t stop myself, and it was driving him out of his f*cking mind.

His teeth scraped down along my spine, his fingers biting into my hips. He kept telling me how good I felt. How beautiful I was. How much he liked to degrade me. His voice was nothing but a husky whisper in my ear, his breath ragged in his chest. He f*cked me like I was the only thing that mattered to him. The only thing that ever mattered. The exchange of power was intoxicating. I was in control now, and there was nothing that could stop my descent into oblivion.

Or so I thought.

I was on the verge of exploding when he stopped, making me whimper in frustration. My orgasm was the only thing I had to look forward to during this exchange, and he was taking it away from me.

“Not yet.”

He was determined to show me who was in control here, and I was determined not to let it be him. But when his thumb started working against my clit, my body won out over my mind.

I bucked against him and cried out for my release when he stopped again.

“Please,” I begged, rocking my hips upward. I was so sensitive I didn’t think I would survive if he didn’t free me from this agony.

“You want to come?” he asked softly.

I didn’t reply. Because as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t give him the satisfaction. Cool air settled over my skin when he pulled away, and for a minute, I worried that he was going to punish me again. But after a few adjustments, the heat of his breath skated over my inner thighs. With the first lick, he had me on the edge. Again. He teased me with the softest of touches before pulling away.