After their dinner of a frozen pizza—and the nerves that had made it impossible to think—Aimee fled to the bathroom.

She turned the taps on and added a heap of salts. Lavender, she understood, was relaxing, not that it ever worked for her. After testing the temperature with her toes, she clipped her hair up, then stepped into the water. Steam rose, and she sank in to rest her head on the rim as water rose around her.

Ever since she and Trace had returned from their run this morning, Aimee had tried to act as if it were an ordinary day. It was anything but.

After her conference call, she’d lost herself in work before she stopped to take a shower. The break in her concentration hadn’t been good. Over and over, her thoughts returned to Trace, and that led to fantasies about what might be later in the day, if she found the courage to move forward.

Midafternoon, she and Trace had gone to the grocery store and the coffee shop. He’d been cordial but nothing more. He didn’t bring up the evening ahead or anything about BDSM. It was as if their kiss had never happened and their deep discussions hadn’t occurred. Whatever happened next truly was up to her.

She leaned forward to turn off the taps.

There were a million intelligent reasons for her to go to her bed instead of returning to the living room. The sound of his voice reached her, and it was oddly comforting to know she was so protected. He moved through each room, checking and rechecking locks, looking for anything out of the ordinary. He left nothing to chance.

Once she was sure he was no longer in this part of the house—Eureka’s squawk of “Agent!” was proof of that—she leaned forward to pull the drain plug.

She’d made her decision. Trace had been right. Theory was one thing. Experience was another—like moving from a classroom to the laboratory. She may never have another chance to have this kind of experience, and certainly not with a man like Trace.

Wrapping herself in a towel, Aimee bypassed her dresser in favor of walking to her closet.

How was she supposed to dress for an introduction to BDSM?

If he’d invited her to a club, she could have gone shopping to order something appropriate. And sexy shoes.

As it was, her selection was limited. She bypassed her one sexy black dress—too forward—in favor of a long casual T-shirt. She skipped a bra but pulled on a thong and a pair of shorts. Since her hair was wild from the humidity in the bathroom, she pulled it into a ponytail.

Barefoot, fighting a sudden surge of nerves, she walked into the living room.

Trace looked up from the documentary he’d been watching. He clicked the remote’s Off button. “I wondered… Hoped.” He stood.

“Uhm…” She floundered. She’d never been this uncertain before. Now that they were so close together, this seemed premeditated, shifting her sense of the world. The few times she’d had sex for the first time, there was a rhythm to the encounter. Dinner, a movie, holding hands, a sweet kiss, an inevitability. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I’ll guide you. You can trust in that. In me.” He rounded the couch to take her shoulders.

“Aimee!”

She looked over at Eureka. “Night-night.”

He closed one eye, but she swore he regarded Trace suspiciously out of the other. “Night-night,” she repeated.

Eureka turned his back on them.

“That crazy loro is too damn smart.”

“I keep thinking the same thing.” Eureka’s interruption had allowed her a moment to regroup, and while she was still off-balance, her hand had stopped trembling.

Trace stood in front of her, overwhelmingly large. His black T-shirt hugged his chest. She couldn’t remember if his arms had always been that developed or whether he seemed bigger because of their proximity.

For a moment, she fixated on the size of his hands. They were enormous. To think of them curved around her breasts or landing on her bare bottom… She shifted from side to side.

“Have you thought of a safe word?”

“Krypton.”

“Preciosa, I think you’re going to be my kryptonite. Nothing else on the periodic table you’d rather choose?”

“I like krypton.”

“Krypton it is.” An approving smile slipped across his features, and her heart fluttered in response. “Use it at any time. This isn’t about terrifying you.”

She already was.

“But about helping you learn about yourself. Is it the fantasy you want? Or the reality?”

He pressed a thumb beneath her chin to tip it back while he gripped her left shoulder with his free hand. His strength was undeniable. Yet she had no doubt he would let her go if she struggled.

Trace captured her gaze. With the force of his own, he compelled her not to look away. His scent, his masculine presence, overwhelmed her.

“I want to know everything about you. Be honest with me and yourself.”

Surely that was his most difficult request.

“Don’t hide, querida.”

“You know I’m nervous.” Ever since Jack had used her words against her, she’d been careful to disguise her vulnerabilities.

“Nervous?” he pressed. “Or frightened?”

For a moment, she considered his question. “I’m not scared.”

His smile sent her heart spiraling to her toes.

“Will you take out your ponytail?”

They both knew this was about more than her hair. He’d told her he’d give her commands to see if she would obey. In her books, the heroines were much braver than she was. They instantly complied, while she had a bucket of fear to contend with.

“It starts with a single step.”

“What if it’s the one that sends me off the edge of the cliff?”

“It will be,” he promised.

His surety made her gulp.

Keeping her gaze fastened on him for strength, she pulled off the ponytail holder.

“Muss up your hair.”

As if knowing what she needed, he continued to hold her. The last of her resistance melted. She fed her fingers into her hair, drawing some around her face, then toying with the strands until they teased her shoulders.

“Beautiful. But you’re beautiful no matter what.” He leaned in to capture her lower lip between his teeth, gently at first, then with a bit more force.

Rather than pulling away, Aimee surrendered. As she gave herself over to the slight pain, she found intense pleasure. Yes. This was what she’d craved. It was as exquisite as she dreamed.

He continued the pressure on her lower lip. Rational thought became impossible.

Subtly he changed what he was doing, demanding entrance to her mouth.

Willingly she surrendered.

She liked to be kissed, and this man knew how to kiss. He tasted of temptation and determination. There was no hiding from him or his demands.

Her arms went around him. She flattened one palm on his back, and with the other hand, she dug her fingers into his black hair. She raised on tiptoes to meet him more completely.

He was kissing her, and she was kissing him back.

Though they’d done this before, there was nothing similar about the experiences. Trace was more demanding as their tongues met in thrust and parry. She had a taste of what sex with him might be like, and she wanted more. His insistence awakened her, and the way he drew her tight and held her there gave her security she didn’t realize she’d been lacking.

Slowly, he drew back, ending the kiss. “Your responses are exquisite.”

The approval in his husky voice sent a tiny jolt of excitement through her. She’d taken that first step. Instead of terrifying, it was liberating.

“Shall we continue?”

Slowly, her lower lip throbbing, she nodded. Trace took his time releasing her before he took a couple of steps back.

“What are you wearing beneath the T-shirt?”

“Nothing.”

“Show me.”

His quiet command was a raw thrill, disconcerting and so different. Drawing a breath, she pulled the garment up, then off, dropping it to the floor.

“Oh, querida…”

That raw huskiness in his voice thrilled her. She’d never been with a man so appreciative.

“How do you play with them?”

“I…”

“Fight through your embarrassment.” His voice was the encouragement she needed.

Aimee tipped back her head, closed her eyes, then used her forefingers to circle her nipples until they hardened.

“Beautiful.”

She opened her eyes to see him staring at her. She needed him. “Will you touch me?” The words were more a plea than she’d intended. “I need your touch. I want to feel your hands on me. I want your mouth on my breasts, your tongue on my nipples.” She lifted her breasts in invitation. “Please, Trace.”

“It would be my pleasure.” He was there for her, his arms around her, supporting her, one palm pressed against the small of her back, the other cradling her nape.

He lowered his head to capture a nipple between his tongue and top teeth. “I want to know what you like. Too much?”

“No. It’s…” Not enough.

Then he sucked, hard, and her knees buckled.

He caught her, sweeping her from the ground and carrying her down the hallway to her bedroom.

“Please,” she whispered.

“I haven’t even started with you yet,” he promised, setting her on the floor.

He put his pistol on the nightstand. She was so caught up with what he was doing that she didn’t even protest the gun being in her bedroom. Her arms fell to her sides as she surrendered to him. He sucked her right nipple while he pinched the other between his thumb and forefinger. She arched her back, asking for more.

“Keep still,” he ordered.

“Keep still?” Had he lost his mind? Because she was definitely losing hers. She’d never experienced anything like this, exquisite and painful, creating a demand from the inside out.

“Part of your lessons,” he said, returning to her nipple and torturing it relentlessly.

She’d taken the first steps, she realized, and he was exerting his will more powerfully. He’d force her to be an active participant. Already she was learning there was nothing passive about being involved with him.

She began to squirm as heat flooded her body. She wanted more. More pressure. More intensity. She wanted to orgasm.

“Distract yourself,” he said. “Think about something else, anything else other than how your body is responding to what I’m doing. Think about the fact I want you to keep still. Think about pleasing me.”

“I…”

“Can,” he told her. “You can. You’re a runner. Breathe. Use the same techniques you use there.”

“But—”

“Breathe.” He sucked, gently at first, then with unyielding force.

She squirmed. She was coming undone. He couldn’t possibly have any idea what he was asking of her, demanding of her. He’d assigned her a task, and she was doomed to failure. Staying still was nearly impossible with the way he tormented her. She’d never realized how sensitive her nipples were, never knew she could get so turned on from breast play.

She tried to follow his instructions.

When the only thing she could think of was how much she wanted to come, she forced her thoughts to her project and looming deadline. She met his gaze, saw the slight smile that toyed with his lips before he moved that skillful mouth to the tip of her other breast.

She wanted to do what he said, she realized, wanted to please him, wanted to see him smile at her.

He moved one of his hands between her legs. Helplessly, shamelessly, she ground her crotch against him, wishing she’d taken off her shorts. Even though she was dressed, he unerringly found her swollen clit and pushed his thumb against the sensitized nub. When she could no longer breathe in a controlled way, she settled for panting. Hearing his instructions echoing in her mind, she struggled to fend off the orgasm. But no matter how hard she tried to keep still, she couldn’t.

He moved to her other nipple and bit. She cried out as a million tingles zapped through her.

Unexpectedly, an orgasm caught her. In a powerful and undeniable wave, it crashed into her, over her. “Oh, Trace!” She moved faster and faster against him, riding the wave of the climax, her pussy clenching.

He kept his mouth on her, his hand between her legs as she ground it out, damn near achieving a second orgasm.

When he finally moved away, her shoulders slumped forward. She was shattered. Complete. Overwhelmed.

Uttering soft, reassuring words that she couldn’t quite understand, Trace wrapped his strong arms around her, offering support as he feathered a kiss against the top of her head.

Seconds later, when her breathing had returned to normal and her brain regained its functionality, she realized she was lying on the bed and he was beside her. She placed her head on his chest and said, “That never happens quite so fast.”

“You’re as responsive as I hoped.” He traced one of her eyebrows.

She’d always believed there was something wrong with her, and Jack had reinforced that. When she’d been at college, her roommates had talked about their experiences, and she didn’t have much to share in return. It seemed her friends enjoyed sex a whole lot more than she did. But now she was wondering if she’d just been with the wrong men.

“How are you feeling?”

“Satisfied.” She wanted to wrap her arms around herself.

“Good. We’re just getting started. I want you naked.”

She eased back away from him a bit in order to meet his gaze. She saw tenderness in the depths of his brown eyes, but his jaw was set, the lines telepathing implacable power. She had waded into dangerous territory. Now there was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

Even as she questioned whether or not she’d actually go through with it, she climbed off the bed and took a couple of steps backward.

Her nipples were still hardened into little pebbles, the cool whisper of air from the overhead fan keeping them taut.

She hooked her fingers beneath the band of her shorts and wiggled until they slid down her legs. She stepped from them, leaving them in a pile on the floor. They both knew she could have simultaneously removed her underwear, but she didn’t have the guts for that.

“A thong?”

She nodded.

“Leaves your ass bare. Were you hoping for a spanking, Aimee?”

“No!”

He laughed.

“Well, maybe.” He was right, but she didn’t want to admit it to him, or even herself.

“It’s pretty. But it needs to come off.” He patiently waited while she discarded the scrap of material. The crotch was damp from her earlier climax and from the continual wetness his words caused.

Finally she stood there in front of him, bare. She tipped back her head, then folded and unfolded her arms a couple of times, not quite sure what to do with them.

“Lovely,” he said. “I had no idea whether or not I’d find you shaven. I like it.” His tone was rich with approval. “I would have shaved you myself.”

The idea of having him so close, so intimate, while she was spread before him, vulnerable, sent goose bumps down her arms.

“When in doubt, keep your hands behind your back.”

“Do you miss anything?”

“When it comes to you? Not ever, Aimee.”

Having his attention so focused on her made her heady.

She moved her hands behind her back, and the act thrust out her breasts a little more.

“So pretty. I want your legs apart, regardless of whether you’re kneeling or standing.”

Kneeling? She gulped. Then, realizing he was waiting for her compliance, she spread her legs.

“Farther,” he encourage. “Shoulder width, at least. I always want access to your pussy.”

Her insides turned molten.

“That’s it.”

His constant approval made her want to please him more. He was a master of her seduction.

“Now face away from me.”

She was reluctant to do as he said. Looking at him helped keep her grounded.

“Do as I say.” His gruff tone let her know he wouldn’t be disobeyed.

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered. With trepidation, she followed his order.

“Now bend over and grab your ankles.”

If she did so, with her feet so far apart, she would be totally exposed. Humiliation threatened to pull her into an undertow. She almost protested, but she stopped herself. He knew exactly what he was asking her to do and how much it would cost her emotionally to yield to him.

Trace didn’t repeat his command. Instead, he waited, not touching her. Since he was behind her, she couldn’t drink encouragement from his expressions. She was at a turning point. She could refuse, end this, maybe have hot sex, or she could go for it, embracing the things she’d always fantasized about.

Decision made, she hurriedly bent and grabbed her ankles—needing to do it before she changed her mind. The sight of the world upside down was too much, and she closed her eyes.

As she waited, schooling herself to be patient, she concentrated on the sound of the overhead fan and felt the air on her exposed parts, and she wondered what he was doing.

Looking at her, that was for sure. Thinking? Planning? Enjoying the sight? Please God, she hoped he liked what he saw.

All her senses hummed, supercharged.

She inhaled the scent of him, that intoxicating blend of man and spice. She hungered for the sound of his voice.

“Almost perfect.” He moved in behind her. He used his foot to exert pressure against the inside of her right ankle, forcing her into the position he wanted. “You’re gorgeous. Everything about you.”

He stroked her between the legs, long, sweeping motions with his large fingers. “Beautifully wet, Aimee.” He parted her labia and glided a fingertip across her clit. “Your body is so honest.”

Involuntarily she jerked.

“Try to keep still. Accept what I give you while I take what I want.”

He feathered her clit again, and she gasped. But instead of moving, she squeezed her eyes shut even tighter and drew a deep breath.

“Quick learner,” he said. He pressed a finger firmly on her clit. She moved forward a scant inch, trying to get away from the maddening, delicious intensity of the feeling. “Accept it,” he reminded her.

He put a palm against the middle of her back, keeping her bent and preventing her from moving away. Then he increased the pressure on her tiny, already swollen nub.

“Trace,” she murmured. Unbelievably another orgasm was already building inside. She told herself she could come from just this tiny amount of sensation, but she knew she was wrong. It wasn’t just about his touch. It was about his mastery of her. It was the combination of the words he used and the force he exerted.

Even she could smell her arousal.

He began to move his finger in a tiny circle, and at the same time, with his palm, he pressed harder. “Focus.”

She whimpered. Her hips began to sway, even though she fought against it. “Actinium,” she said. “Aluminum. Americium.”

“The periodic table?”

She didn’t answer him. Instead, she focused. “Antimony…” She trailed off as he continued his relentless assault on her body. “Argon… Please! Please stop. Otherwise I’m going to come.”

“Not yet.”

“Trace!”

“Do as I say,” he snapped.

Unbelievably, his sharp tone turned her on even more.

“I—”

“Breathe!”

Her knees threatened to give out. She could barely keep hold of her ankles. Thinking about anything except what he was doing was impossible. She needed to let him know that, but she couldn’t find the words. “I…”

“Your orgasms are mine to give or deny. Fight it out, Aimee.”

She did. Her eyes still scrunched closed, struggling for breath, she whispered, “Arsenic, astatine, barium…”

“Now.” He slid a finger inside her. “Come now.”

The orgasm swamped her. She lost her footing, and Trace grabbed hold of her, supporting her as he turned her, then scooped her from the floor and carried her to the bed. He lay down with her, careful to keep his boots off the mattress. He held her close, cradled her tenderly, her head on the soft material of his T-shirt.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Until now she’d never understood why the female subs in the stories she read would be so appreciative after a climax. She figured they were because that was what their Doms demanded. Now she knew differently.

Her gratitude wasn’t just for the earthmoving climax. It wasn’t just because he’d relented and given his permission to come. Her gratitude was for all that and the way he read her so perfectly, recognizing what she needed, when she needed it, and for having her hang on longer than she might have so that the experience was even more meaningful. Most of all, it was for catching her, caring for her when she wasn’t sure she was able to.

“That’s a start, Aimee. Your introduction to turning over control.”

She bunched his shirt in her fist, and he stroked his fingers down her spine, soothingly, possessively.

“When you’re ready for more, I’ll give you that spanking.”

Before she thought it through, she swallowed. “I want to do that now.”

“Now?”

“Yes.” Get it over with, so that she would know whether it was for her or not. So far, what they’d done had exceeded her wildest dreams. But taking it further?

“You’re sure? You don’t need to think about what just happened?”

“I’m more sure of this than anything else.

“In that case, I want you to come find me when you’re ready. Be naked.”

“But…”

“I’m giving you a couple of minutes to think it through. I also want to check in with the team, look at the cameras.”

She placed her hand on his chest and pushed herself up a little to meet his gaze. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

His slow smile made her proud of her decision. “Good.”

He untangled their bodies—when had she gotten so wrapped up in him?—and slowly circled one of her nipples before sliding from the bed.

After watching him go, she collapsed against the pillow, her heart thundering. He moved through the house as if he owned it, his footsteps sure. He talked on his phone, and his voice was steady, in sharp contrast to the firmness that had undercut it while he was playing with her.

Heaven save her.

They’d played.

As each second ticked by, Aimee wished he hadn’t given her time to reconsider. As the sexual high faded, she started to question herself. Who in their right mind walked naked to the living room and trusted the big badass agent there to spank her?

A few minutes later, silence shrouded the house. He’d finished his rounds, and he was waiting for her decision.

Until this evening, she hadn’t realized how much was expected of a submissive. He made it clear that she had to be a participant at every turn. She had to go to him, without clothes, shedding her inhibitions. For a woman with as little experience as she had, it was a huge challenge.

But to get what she wanted, she had to follow through. Forcing aside her hesitations, she left the bed to join him.

He was seated in the dining room, and when she drew close, he put his phone facedown on the table and looked at her. “This is a surprise. A very pleasant one.”

Earlier, he’d given instructions, been there as she undressed, but standing before him like this was ten times more difficult than it had been earlier.

Remembering his requirements, she placed her hands behind her back and spread her legs.

“Very, very well done.”

“I… Thank you? Am I supposed to say that?”

He grinned. “You can say whatever you like. Tell me why you’re here.”

Really? He was going to make her say it? “Uhm, for a spanking.”

“Nervous?”

“In college, I’d ask if I could take tests early.”

“Masochistic tendencies. I like that.” He stood, picked up his chair, then moved it into the living room before taking a seat. “Come here and lower yourself across my lap.”

“Is it possible to take it easy? I mean, virgin spankee and all that.”

“Ah.” He laughed. “No.”

“It was worth a try.” Behind her back, she twisted her fingers together.

Each step toward him was like trudging through quicksand. This was nothing like her fantasies. There, she was fearless, welcoming everything her Dom threw at her.

The reality was so different.

Her heart raced, and her brain cells had scattered.

Trace extended his hand. She slid her palm against his, but he didn’t squeeze it reassuringly. Aimee had never suspected that she’d turn to him for comfort, even though he intended to deliver pain. The realization bent her thoughts in a dozen directions.

“To be clear…”

Since he was sitting and she was standing, they were eye to eye. His gaze was all-seeing. “Yes?”

“You may not come.”

She almost laughed. “You’re forbidding me from orgasming from a spanking?”

He grinned, and for a moment, she almost forgot to be nervous. “If you do come, we’ll have to start the spanking over.”

No chance.

“Ready?”

She nodded.

He exerted a small amount of force on her wrist to bring her toward him.

He tipped her over, and her stomach landed on his powerful thighs. She was terribly aware of how much smaller she was than him. Of his strength and power.

She reached for the hardwood floor for stability, but couldn’t quite touch it.

“Spread your legs.”

A tendril of panic crawled through her, and the word krypton pinged around in her mind. Krypton, krypton, krypton. If her brain could have completed a circuit and gotten the word from her subconscious and out of her mouth, she might have used it.

As it was, in this position, even gravity worked against her, and her hair fell forward, framing her face, a few strands getting in her eyes. She used her abdominal muscles to lift herself, but he pressed her back down.

This was terrifying. Exhilarating.

“You okay?”

She thought she nodded, but he prompted, “Aimee? I need you to answer me.”

Was she okay? She was terrified. Excited. Anxious. “Yes,” she managed.

He rubbed her rear, and she liked the feel of his hand on her. When he dipped a couple of fingers between her legs, she was stunned to feel dampness there.

“You were made for this, Aimee.”

She forgot to be self-conscious. If he’d just touch her there…

“Now point your feet inward.”

She fought against her natural inclination to refuse, to protect herself as much as possible.

“Point your feet inward,” he repeated with as much patience as he’d made the original command. “Good girl,” he said when she did as instructed.

She hadn’t been aware of following his order, but there was something hypnotic about him that compelled her response.

He rubbed her skin, making her relax, with what she guessed was a false sense of security. He moved on to more vigorous strokes, increasing her anxiety a couple of notches.

“How many for your first experience?”

She wanted to be brave. “Eight.”

“Not nearly enough. Ten.”

Why had he even asked?

“Count them for me.”

Before she was fully prepared, the first one landed hard on her buttocks. She yelped. Good God, it hurt. She started to squirm. Some people actually liked this? Were they out of their minds? This was not what she’d expected.

But then he was there, soothing the hurt with his palm.

“Count,” he reminded her.

“One,” she whispered. Then, a second spank landed. “Damn!”

“Damn is not a number,” he said, and she was sure she heard amusement in his voice, which meant at least one of them was enjoying this. “I can repeat it, if you wish.”

“No! It was two.” She wiggled. He placed a hand on the small of her back, effectively imprisoning her.

He spanked her again.

“Three!”

He rubbed over the sore spots, and she was surprised how soothing that was.

The moment she exhaled, he delivered another swat.

She moaned, but didn’t cry. “Four.”

“Much better. Relax into it.”

“Relax into it?”

“If you fight it, your muscles will be tense. And you’ll enjoy it less.”

“Enjoy it. Right.” Since she was still imprisoned, hanging upside down, she couldn’t draw a full breath, and her words were muffled.

“I hope you do,” he said. “I want you to.”

He stroked between her legs, unerringly finding her clit. She moaned and shifted, trying to encourage him to put more pressure there.

“Naughty girl,” he said.

He took away his hand, and she whimpered in protest.

He placed the next spank at that tender spot on her right side, on her thigh, right below her buttock.

She gasped but somehow managed the word “five.”

He delivered the next one to her left thigh.

“Six.” She whimpered. Tears swam in her eyes. She was barely over the halfway mark. Forty percent more to go.

“You’re fighting.” With extreme gentleness, he rubbed her tender areas. “Remember to breathe.” He slid a hand between her legs again.

No way could this be arousing her.

“You look so beautiful,” he told her.

His words did something to her, just like what happened when she read. She had never had a man’s words so turn her on before. But the appreciative tone in his voice almost made it all worthwhile.

He spanked her three times in quick succession. The pain was so fast, so stinging, she couldn’t even count.

“Seven, eight, and nine,” he said.

Somehow, though, the pain receded quickly, leaving her warm. The overhead fan turned slowly, cooling the droplets of sweat that dotted her back.

Trace—her Dom—masturbated her. She was wetter than she ever remembered being. Her hips began to jerk, from the combination of his touch and the heat in her buttocks and thighs. Her toes dug into the floor as she struggled for control.

“I wish you could see what you look like,” he said. “How desirable. Feel how hard my cock is from looking at your red ass.”

“Trace!” Despite his earlier warning, the beginnings of an orgasm began to unfold. It didn’t matter how much she told herself it was impossible. It was real. “Stop,” she begged. “Please. Spank me. Spank me!”

“You’d rather I do that than stroke your swollen clit?”

“Yes!” The word was somewhere between a demand and a plea.

He drew some of her dampness over the nub. His finger slipped effortlessly, and she was going to go out of her mind.

“To be clear, you’d prefer me to stop doing this?”

Her body became rigid as she forced away thoughts of her impending orgasm. Silently she started through the elements of the periodic table again. Actinium. Aluminum. Americium. Antimony. Argon…

But it wasn’t working.

The man was diabolical. Diabolical and good. He knew exactly what he was doing, just how to touch her to make her shatter. He could keep her on the edge as long as he wanted. But just as frightening, maybe more frightening, she knew he could force her past it at any moment.

Arsenic.

Now there was a good element

Arsenic, arsenic, arsenic.

“Please…” She wasn’t thinking about krypton.

“You’re not going to come, are you?”

He slid a finger inside her, and she bucked against him. He fucked her with it for long, torturous minutes before pulling it out again.

She was no longer certain what she was begging for. For him to keep it up until she climaxed, or for him to stop so she wouldn’t have to start the punishment again.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Spank…spank me!”

He still had one hand pressed against the small of her back. The other, he rested across the fleshiest part of her butt cheeks. Even though he wasn’t touching her intimately, her pussy was throbbing. She was still ready for him.

“Ask me again, nicely, for the last one.”

Something had changed inside her. She was turning herself, her reactions, over to him. A moment ago, she didn’t think she could survive to the end.

Recalling what he’d told her, she focused on the last one, exhaling and spreading her legs again, without being told.

“You are a quick study, Miss Inamorata.”

Nothing she did would change his pace, so she patiently waited on him.

“Last one. You will feel this, and you will remember it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Oh, Aimee…”

He spanked her exposed vulva.

She screamed, her body going rigid as the pain ripped at her.

Instantly she was in his arms, but instead of holding her as she expected, he carried her to the couch and placed her on the edge. He knelt on the floor and placed her legs over his shoulders.

No. He wouldn’t. She couldn’t… “Trace…”

With his strong hands, ones that had just relentlessly spanked her, delivering unimaginable pain, he kept her thighs spread wide apart. He kissed her tortured pussy, then licked her with long, slow strokes.

She tried to escape, but she was helpless.

He took away the pain and simultaneously made it worse. “I—”

“Come for me,” he said. He entered her with two fingers, stretching her, seeking and finding her G-spot.

An orgasm, all the more intense from the physical assault on her private parts and mental assault on her thought process, swamped her.

She was dragged under, gasping and panting.

And when she recovered, he was holding her, trying to tame her messy hair. She blinked, unsure what to think, how to feel.

“How was your first spanking?”

It wasn’t just the spanking, though. It was her first submissive experience, and it was the first time a man had ever gone down on her. Any of the three would have been enough, but to combine them into a single encounter altered her.

Aimee sought the right words to let him know what she was feeling. Nothing came to her. It was difficult to believe she’d won a spelling bee in elementary school, when right now she wasn’t sure she could spell her own name—her first one, not her surname. She settled for “Unimaginable.”

“Go on.”

She should have known he wouldn’t let her get away without elaborating. “A little confusing, maybe.”

He waited without question.

“When you had me over your knee…”

“Were you tempted to use your safe word?”

“I was, at the beginning. For a few seconds, I thought I might panic when I realized how vulnerable I was. If my mouth would have worked—well, for anything other than gasping—I might have used it. But then you kept talking to me.”

“I’ve never seen anything quite as spectacular as the sight of you across my lap. When you turned your toes inward, spreading your cheeks, parting your labia to expose all of your pussy, believe me, spanking you was about the last thing on my mind. I’ve never been with anyone like you, Aimee, and I want you to know that.”

She met his gaze. No other man had ever had this kind of talk with her. “You seemed to know that I needed your touch. Then I knew you were watching me, it was… Disconcerting at first. And now, with you demanding to know what I was thinking, for me to describe my experience…” She shrugged. “It’s as if I can’t hide or keep secrets from you.”

“When BDSM is part of a relationship, honesty is even more important.”

“I see that.” She nodded. “I guess the unexpected thing is how liberating I found the whole thing.”

“Liberating?”

“I was able to give myself over to the experience totally. I stopped being self-conscious. And I think it’s a bit odd that I did get off from the pain.”

“Erotic pain,” he corrected. “Deliberately inflicted, placed, and timed. I watched you every step of the way. I saw the way you responded, and I played on that. If something hadn’t been working for you, I would have changed it up. I doubt you’d get off from random pain.”

“I’m puzzled, though, about… I was naked but you weren’t.”

“Deliberate as well. I wanted your introduction to be all about the act of your submission, not as a prelude to sex.”

“I thought it was all connected.” She frowned. “I mean… You don’t want—”

“Are you asking if I want to be buried inside you, Aimee?”

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “I’m afraid of rejection. But yes. I want you, Trace.”