Two Strikes Read Free

gently, one hundred and eighty degrees so her ass faced the sub.
    Hope you’re enjoying the view, girlie.
    What was Max up to this time?
    “Queen G knows I’ll take immaculate care of her. She’ll want for nothing, but if she begs…”
    He gave her ass a light pat with the crop, and her pussy clenched. She’d never thought she’d like a little sting to go with her pleasure until she’d said yes to Max that second time they’d run into each other at The Den. He could turn her ass and thighs into a patchwork of welts, and then quickly make her forget the pain with the aid of his tongue and cock.
    “She mustn’t beg. Begging means I’m not anticipating her needs. Isn’t that right, Queen G?”
    She drew in some air and fought the urge to cross her legs at the ankles. Goddamnit, she was wet already, lubricating her own thighs, and when Max inhaled, she suspected he knew his effects on her.
    “Yes, Maximus,” she said, fighting to remain perfectly still, perfectly relaxed, but fuck if it wasn’t hard.
    “Two strikes for hesitating. Would you like my crop or my hand to heat your ass?”
    Great. He was going to do that reverse psychology shit on her and do the exact opposite of what she expected. What she wanted was irrelevant, because she could never predict how her response would spur him. His mind was like a hedge maze, and if you tried to enter it and map it out, you’d find yourself even dizzier and disoriented than when you started. Going with the flow was easiest with all things concerning “Maximus”—the man ladies often referred to in whispers as the dark dom . Giselle didn’t think it was his sexual proclivities so much as all that nearly-black hair falling over his shoulders. An unusual look for a man who was more or less a high-paid cop.
    “Shall I make it three?” he asked, and his voice near her ear was practically a purr.
    If she had the ability of sight at the moment, she’d probably look down to see a bulge forming in his leather pants. She’d get so hot, so ready for him, and he’d hold himself back until she was ready to give up.
    Well, he only had forty minutes. He wouldn’t be holding out all that long.
    “Punish me as you see fit, Maximus. I deserve either the snap of your crop or the crack of your hand,” she said, and tried her damndest to keep the amused smirk off her face.
    Hand, please.
    If he used a hand, he’d not only spank her, but also rub her when he was done. Knead her rear and delve his fingers into her cleft. He’d make it seem like it was all part of his dominance, but the truth was, he loved her ass, and on the rare occasion she let him take her there, he’d whispered a thank-you for it.
    Quiet filled the room for a long moment, and then there was a loud smack. She heard the sound of his palm’s strike before she felt the sting of his bare hand.
    “One. Two. Three,” he counted, and then his strong hands gripped her ass, parting her cheeks.
    With his fingers so close to her pussy, he could probably feel her wetness now.
    She could hear his swallow close to her ear, and then his naked chest pressed against her back. “Yes?” he whispered.
    “No,” she whispered back. She needed to be able to walk. She had a four-hour shift left, and hobbling down the halls with that cart and nursing a sore ass didn’t sound like her idea of a good time.
    “Pity,” he said. He eased away. “Come here. What’s your name?” He addressed the other woman.
    Giselle rolled her eyes behind her blindfold. He knew damn well what that woman’s name was. Ms. Gibson would have briefed him thoroughly before he accepted the woman’s companionship for the weekend.
    “Dawna,” she said in a quiet voice.
    Giselle clamped her teeth and suppressed a sigh.
    Max would be on the hunt for a submissive again by Monday. He’d liked them a bit inexperienced because they’d come to him with fewer bad habits he’d have to correct, but first-timers drained him. Dawna was either really that