Garrett brings the flogger down sharply on my ass, making me cry out again, a ragged sound that leaves no doubt how deeply he affects me. We’re barely ten minutes into the game, and I’m already crumbling, tumbling, falling to pieces, forgetting all the reasons jumping off the high dive with him is such a bad idea.

But I can’t help myself. It’s been so long since I’ve felt anything close to this, to the way he cracks my soul open and sends light shining in.

“Quiet, Kitten,” he says. “From here out, I want you to keep those pretty lips closed until I tell you otherwise.”

I moan, and he responds with another sharp swat of the flogger against my sweetly suffering ass. “No sound, Dakota. I mean it. If you disobey me, you’ll be punished and not in one of the ways you enjoy. Nod if you understand me, sweetheart.”

I nod, head spinning and pussy clenching as he taps the clamp trapping my clit softly in approval.

And damn, but it feels incredible. Horrible, wonderful, and so unspeakably intense my mind is having a hard time wrapping itself around the sensations flowing from between my legs.

But my body isn’t having any trouble at all. My body is singing one long, loud song of praise, and every word of every verse is Garrett’s name.

“Spread your legs wider,” he commands, his voice going deep and dangerous as I comply. “Perfect, beautiful. Nod if you’re ready for me to give you what your body is begging me for.”

I nod again, biting down on my bottom lip, willing my vocal chords to stay still as Garrett brings the flogger down harder, striking between the clamps on my ass.

But God, it’s difficult. So very fucking difficult.

I clench my jaw and tighten my throat, swallowing every whimper, willing each wail and moan to stay locked inside my chest as the blows come faster, transforming my body into a brightly burning flame. And then Garrett whips the flogger sharply to the side, dislodging one of the clamps with a sting that sizzles out across my every nerve ending, and I can’t stop the cry that bursts from my throat.

“Quiet,” he commands, squeezing my breast, making the clamp there feel suddenly, brutally tight. “I don’t want to punish you, Kitten, but I will.”

My lips open on a gasp, but I force it down.

There have been times in the past when I wanted to be punished, to push my limits further than Garrett thought I was ready for. But tonight, I just want to come out whole on the other side of this lesson in how much more I have left to learn.

And God help me, I want to learn it all with him, through him, this man whose touch rearranges the universe and whose body teaches me that I’m so much stronger than I give myself credit for. That I am a warrior, a goddess, a siren who calls him to crash into me again and again, no matter how much damage we both sustain.

But the hurt always heals.

We heal each other. With pain. With pleasure. With hot, desperate kisses as he plucks the clamps from my nipples and spanks them from my hot, throbbing ass. As he suckles the metal from my clit, sending blood surging into my ultra-sensitized tip, making me come so hard and fast I can’t stop the scream that bursts from my chest.

But luckily that’s the exact moment Garrett says, “Scream for me, Kitten. Fuck yes, baby, scream for me.”

And I do. I scream his name as he flips me onto my back and makes me come on his mouth a second time. I howl my feral, shameless pleasure to the vaulted ceiling as he drives into me with enough force to send my tailbone skidding across the carpet and make my swollen pussy clench tight with fresh waves of yes, yes, oh hell yes.

I dig my fingers into Garrett’s thickly muscled ass and hold on tight as he rides me hard and fast, giving me everything, every bit of his body and soul as we come together with a desperate determination that leaves no doubt that he needs me. That I need him. That we both need this shattering as I come apart in his arms, as I overflow with more bliss than one body can contain.

He comes hard, his cock throbbing inside of me for long minutes while I float high above the everyday world, drunk and spiraling into him, deeper and deeper until his pleasure is my pleasure and there is no end or beginning, only us.

Later, as I lie heavy on his chest, marveling that my body still remembers how to do simple things like inhale and exhale, I admit to myself that it’s pointless to resist. “All right,” I whisper. “You and me. One day at a time.”

“One day at a time,” he echoes. “But since it’s nearly midnight, I would like to claim tomorrow, if that’s all right. I would very much like to ravage you into a state of well-fucked bliss and then feed you pasta by firelight.”

I smile. “I will allow it. But only because I know there’s no way the snow plows are going to make it all the way up here tomorrow. And since I’m already trapped and at your mercy…”

Garrett’s hand settles possessively on my lightly bruised ass. “That’s one of the ways I like you best. At my mercy.”

“Don’t I know it,” I say with a happy sigh.

“But I also like you free to choose and freely choosing me,” he adds, the playful note leaving his voice. “So, I hope you’ll give me at least part of your Monday, as well. I have some things I want to show you. Things I hope will prove I was paying attention, and show you how much I would treasure a front seat in your life.”

“Three days is pushing it, Lawler,” I say with mock reticence.

“Two and a half days,” he amends, playing along. “You’ll be free by noon if you decide you want to go. But of course, I hope you’ll stay.”

“I do have to head back to work eventually.” I shift my gaze to the window, where snowflakes race by at the speed of light as if competing to see which one can hit the ground first. “Hopefully the roads will be clear by January third?”

Garrett hums contentedly, his ribs vibrating beneath my cheek. “Now you’re talking. That’s over a week.”

“I didn’t say I was staying here until the third.”

“You didn’t say you weren’t,” he says, sounding so pleased I can’t help but laugh.

“Fine. Maybe.” I press a kiss to his lightly furred chest. “But after that, we’re back to one day at a time. I live in D.C. now, you know, so it will be more complicated than it used to be, Mr. Always Working Late.”

“That’s okay. You’re worth complicated. And maybe I’ll move.”

I sit up, staring down into his face, wishing there was more light in the room. “But you love New York.”

He shrugs. “I do. But I love other things more.”

Before I can respond or talk my softening heart out of my throat, he kisses me. And one kiss soon becomes two, and then three, and then he’s carrying me into the bathroom, where he introduces me to the majesty of his fancy shower with the water shooting out of the walls on every side, and I decide it’s okay to relax, to let go for a little while and see if things might be okay.

If they might be better than okay.

If they might be every Christmas wish I’ve ever had rolled up in one sexy, wonderful, oh-so-deliciously Dominant package.