Not Until You: Part VI Read Free Page A

a betting man, I’d say a little exposure does your body good.”
    My eyes squeezed tight and I kept counting as he added a second finger, but hard, shuddering need went through me. I didn’t know what he considered punishment. This was starting to feel like anything but. I was so wet, his fingers gliding deep and coaxing responses from me, that I knew it had to have been painfully obvious to anyone who may be near exactly how turned on and desperate I was for him. Somehow, I forgot I should be embarrassed about that. At the moment, I didn’t care.
    Soon, his fingers slipped out of me and he grabbed my hips, situating me against him. The hard length of his cock pressed again the wet fabric of my panties. “And knowing this gets you so turned on and slick has every man watching hot and hard for you.”
    My breath caught, the words sending a bolt of shock through me. “Foster.”
    “Start your count over, beautiful,” he said as he stepped back. I could picture him standing there in front of me, that suit coat stripped off, his tie gone, and a wickedly satisfied smirk on his handsome face.
    I couldn’t let my mind wander to the idea that there were other people who could see me. So I just did what he’d told me to do, I focused only on him and his voice. That’s all that mattered. I started my count over. His footsteps sounded off to my left, and then behind me again.
    “When you get to fifty, this next part stops,” he said, the words holding an ominous edge. Before I had time to digest that, a snapping sound filled my ears and a sharp, stinging sensation lit up my left thigh.
    I hissed, the pain pointed and more intense than the flogger had been. Shit, that hurt.
    “This is a riding crop,” he explained. “Give me a color, Cela, for that level of pain.”
    Color? A color? My mind apparently wasn’t translating English at the moment. It was too busy buzzing.
    He snapped me again on the other thigh, and I cried out. “This is your test, angel. How well did you study? Stoplight colors were covered both in the binder and in class.”
    I shook my head, bracing for another blow, when the picture of a stoplight entered my mind. Just like when I was taking a test, I remembered where it was on the page. Green for
I’m okay
; yellow for
might be too much, check in with me
; and red for
stop, too much
. He wanted me to give him an idea of how much pain I could handle.
    “Green,” I said automatically, despite the angry protest my skin was giving. The level of pain wasn’t a breeze, but it wasn’t beyond what I could handle. In fact, after the initial sting, the warmth that chased it was kind of pleasant.
    “Good girl,” Foster said. “Get back to your counting.”
    I resumed my count, and the blows began to rain over my back and thighs in a steady rhythm. I winced for the first few, the bite of the crop hard to ignore, but by the time I got down to seventy-five, my entire backside was tingling with heat and a pleasant, heady sensation was clouding my thoughts.
    As promised, he stopped when I hit the right number, and I sagged in my bindings, letting the rush of it all filter through my bloodstream. His palms ran over the welts that were, no doubt, rising on my skin. “Still with me, gorgeous?”
    “Yes, sir,” I said softly.
    “God, you are so fucking sexy, angel.” He pressed his front to my back, my skin seeming to throb in time to my heartbeat. He left a trail of kisses over my shoulder. “I’ve lain awake at night, imagining you like this. Tied up and trusting and enjoying being under my hand. I can’t even tell you what it does to me to know you’re taking this risk for me, pushing past your fear.”
    The words vibrated through me, creating a glowing warmth and a catch in my throat. His voice was so sincere, so reverent, that in that moment, I may have done absolutely anything he asked. It should’ve scared me—the depth of my willingness—but right now, I couldn’t think past the blind pleasure