His hands squeeze my hips like vices. His cock bores into me deeper than I’d have thought possible, stretching my walls in a way that was painful but now only feels good, like a blur of the most incredible white light spreading inside me to fill me until I’ll burst.

Just when I start to inch closer to my point of climax, he brings the leather paddle down against my ass. The pain of impact is sharp, spiking through me for an instant of discomfort only to blend with the pleasure in a confusing way that seems to ramp it up to a higher intensity than before. He snags the tie off the ground again and ties my wrists together in a blur of frantic motion, never even stopping his relentless pace as he rocks into me again and again.

I ride the wave of his presence and power, losing track of everything until all that remains is the blinding white of pleasure and the sharp reminder of pain from the paddle.

He turns me over, ripping the belt free from my ankles so he can position himself between my legs. He pulls the blindfold up from my eyes too, giving me the first chance at seeing his face in what feels like hours. His brow is furrowed while he moves within me, eyes scanning my body but somehow distant.

I can barely think straight from the pressure of my building climax, but something breaks through the fog—a sudden need for this to be more than moving through the motions for him. I thought it was what I wanted when I came here. I thought I wanted a detached night, like scratching an itch. But I bring my wrists, which are still bound together by his tie, below his face and cup his chin. The furrow in his brow deepens and he increases his pace.

“Look at me,” I plead. I know I’m going to cum whether he looks at me like he cares or like he’s going to forget me by tomorrow, but I suddenly can’t stand the thought of this meaning nothing.

His gorgeous eyes flick up to mine. The change in his expression is immediate. Visceral. His jaw flexes and his lips press together, nostrils flaring. He takes me by the back of the neck and pulls our lips together with a hungry ferocity that steals my breath.

The orgasm that he has been stoking like some great flame since he brought me here finally bursts to life. I breathe him in with the force of it, lips locked to his and fingers pressing into his jaw. I wrap my legs behind his firm ass and press him into me deeper with my heels. He groans against me, pulling himself free and pressing his cock above my pussy, where it twitches and releases burst after burst of his hot cum all over my stomach.

I try to hold onto him, to keep him close. I may have thought I wanted this to end as quickly as it started, but now I don’t want to let go. A man who could give me something so beautiful has to be worth something—he has to mean something. I can’t just walk away from that like I thought I would.

But he peels himself away effortlessly, unwinding from my legs and pulling away from my hands. He hikes his pants up over his still-hard cock and grabs his shirt from the ground, sliding into it as he walks away from the couch. “There are spare bedrooms if you need a place to stay tonight,” he says distantly. “My driver’s number is on the counter if you want to go back to your place instead.”

“Seriously?” I ask, holding my bound hands up to him like the most insane part of all of this is that he’d forget to untie me.

He half-turns his head and notices my bound hands with an expression that shows me he’s struggling with something. He moves back to me quickly, untying my hands and taking the time to inspect my wrists and ankles, like he’s making sure I’m not hurt.

“Turn over,” he says, voice still businesslike.

“Talk to me like a person,” I say desperately. I already feel the tears welling in my eyes because I knew this was coming and I was still dumb enough to walk into it. “Look at me!” I demand, reaching for his wrist.

He pulls back, jaw and mouth tight. “Turn. Over. I need to make sure you won’t bruise.”

I glare at him, but do as he says, presenting my ass to him in a way that makes me feel shame well up from deep inside me. He touches the skin just outside where he was hitting me with the paddle softly. “It won’t bruise, but you may want to wear a soft pair of pants tomorrow. Nothing too tight.”

“That’s it?” I ask when he turns to leave again. “We’re just done?”

He pauses, not facing me at first. His hand balls into a fist and unclenches in a way that makes me think he’s hesitating between two choices. “What did you expect?” he asks, turning now to face me with a cruel glint in his eye. “I spelled it out for you. Didn’t I? No relationships. No marriage. No white picket fence. You get the night of your life. Don’t blame me because you didn’t fucking listen.”

He turns around again and takes three quick steps before pausing, fists balling again. He half-turns, then shakes his head and storms out of the room without another word.

Jamie pulls up to his house half an hour later. I get into the passenger seat, too ashamed of myself to even make eye contact with her.

“Did he hurt you?” she asks me in the most serious voice I’ve ever heard her use. “Steph,” she says even more firmly, lifting my chin so I’m forced to look at you. “What happened? Because I swear to God I’ll Google how to make pipe bombs and make this asshole regret he ever fucked with my friend if he hurt you.”

“He was just an asshole,” I say quietly. “Can we please go?”

She watches me a few more seconds.

“Jamie. I promise. Just go. Okay?”

She sighs, shifting the car into gear and pulling away from his house.