The leather straps bit against my thighs when I pulled up the harness to secure it around my waist. Having stripped down to just my panties, I didn't feel in character enough without something extra. I was still hurting, still trying to let go of the mixed emotions from earlier.

It was never a good combination to cross anger and sadistic behavior, but that seemed to be his intent. I knew what he wanted, and I knew why he wanted it. This kind of pain was a distraction—a way to give ourselves a break from the true pain, even if only for a brief moment. To say I didn't want it as well would be a lie.

With accessories in hand, I went into the room where I had left him and closed the door, locking us away in our quiet isolation. The ends of the long flogger dragged against the floor when I walked. I watched his eyes focus on it when I approached him. "I want your hands up there," I pointed above him.

He stood, reached above his head, and wrapped his hands around the metal rail. His muscles flexed as his lean frame elongated, his manhood hanging swollen between his legs. He was too tall to be overextended by the reach. A simple kick against his foot widened his stance and stretched his arms out straight.

I tied the silk around his wrist and tightened the knot onto the rail above him. He avoided my gaze. As I did the same to his other wrist, that same look of defeat lingered on his face. "Say it. When you need to—before you need to," I instructed him. He started to shake his head but I stopped him with a hand at his chin and my lips against his. When I pulled away, I insisted, "I need to know you'll say it."

"If I need to," he paraphrased.

As I ran my hands down his chest, against his abs, and over his slender hips, I stared into his eyes. My hand wrapped around him, my lips caught his again. 

He kissed me hesitantly at first, but as I stroked him, he gave into me. I teased my tongue against his between each taste of his lips. In the quiet, echoless room, the sounds of our kisses seemed louder and closer. Lost in the sound, it was as if we were two bodies in a void, that we had no existence beyond those walls.

I pulled my lips from his and began to lower myself. My tongue teased over one nipple, then the other, then my lips feathered kisses down his abs, lower still. 

I took him into my mouth. As I moved up and down his length, I sucked him hard, feeling him swell between my lips. When I looked up, I found his lips parted and the pain behind his eyes muted by desire. 

With my last piece of silk in hand, I tucked it beneath his package, wrapped it around the base of his cock, and pulled it so tight he winced. I picked up the hood from the floor, stood, and yanked it over his head.

Taking the flogger in my hand, I ran it through my other, feeling its weight, and testing its edges. It was good quality—unsurprising for a leather fan like himself. I stretched my arms and shoulders and I watched him stand ready. Every breath he took was calm yet expectant. A quick inhale followed by a slow, quiet exhale. He wanted to be here. He wanted to be with me. As much as I kept pretending I hated him, I reminded myself to only give him as much as he needed, rather than what he wanted.

From its position above my head, I swung the flogger hard, catching his ass and legs with my downward motion. He grunted with the impact, but wouldn't give me the satisfaction of letting me know it hurt. I swung again in the opposite direction and flipped my arm to repeat the path of the first, his skin reddening in an X as perfect as the position in which he was tied. His quiet moan was muffled by the hood. 

Like a dance, I traced the strands against my palm to angle my strike, lashed it against his skin, circled my arm to its original position, and caught it by dragging them against my palm once more. I walked around him slowly, the sound of every strike titillating me, teasing me, the pull of desire in my sex making me feel more alive. His body was a canvas onto which I painted my pain, my regret, and my desire for power over both.

The lashes hit his chest his thighs, his upper back—every safe location I could find until he was pink and shying away. His breath was quicker in the wake of my assault, but it wasn't enough. I whipped him straight against the strong muscles of his upper back. He growled quietly, his arms quivered in response. I did that same against his core, his abs flexing and jumping with his stuttered breaths.

I stopped the flogger in my hand and noticed my excited breath came in too short, too heavy, the ache in my sex unignorable.

"Say it," I commanded him.

He shook his head.

Swirling the flogger over my head, I whipped it hard against his front. His body shivered with pain. "Say it," I repeated.

"No," he growled.

I whipped his ass once, twice. The third time he groaned. "Say it!" I yelled, my final thrash loud in the quiet room.

"Agh!" He went slack, leaving him hanging by just his wrists. He stood himself up with shaking legs. His skin was red, the lashes raised. 

As beautiful as it was, I knew better. I knew I was going too far.

I dropped the flogger and went to him. He flinched when I pulled the hood from his head. 

His eyes focused on mine when my fingers touched his face. The pain I had inflicted was apparent in the deep stitch of his brow and the shakiness of his breath. I brushed his hair from his face as he panted. When he leaned forward and caught my lips between his, I pushed him away from the throat. "You didn't say it," my voice quivering slightly, ruining the force I intended.

"I didn't want to."

"But I told you to say it. I told you to stop me."

"I didn't. Want to," he bit out through gritted teeth.

I slapped him, then kissed him passionately. 

His kisses were needy, hungry. His shoulders flexed as he pulled against the restraints. As his tongue slid over mine, my sex ached with need. I couldn't deny him any longer.

I released one of his arms. He quickly wrapped it around me, pushing me back with his emphatic velocity. When I freed the other he stumbled forward until he pinned me back against the wall.

He pulled my leg up by the strap on my thigh and ripped my panties to the side. Without a second's pause, he started pushing himself inside me, staring at me while my mouth dropped open with something between a gasp and a groan.

He filled me, stretched me around him while he pushed himself deep. His lips never left mine, his fingers clawed at my skin in an attempt to pull me closer. With his hips against mine, his body trembled between my thighs.

I took his face in my hands and pulled him from the kiss. He stared into my eyes with a look of desperate desire. "Down," I whispered. That was all the permission he needed to let himself slip from me and sink to his knees. I draped my leg over his shoulder and pulled his head closer.

His mouth met me eagerly. His tongue swirling and flitting against me. I pulled him by his hair and rode his face, stroking myself against his tongue until he gave into my control. I leaned my head back against the wall with a moan.

Over and over, his tongue teased me and brought me closer. His hand slid up my thigh when he hummed his enjoyment. My hips jerked, ruining my rhythm. The feeling was too strong, my body wound too tight. I needed him inside me.

Lowering myself to my knees, he sat on his heels. I pressed my hand against his chest until he obediently laid on his back. I crawled up and straddled him.

The pressure of my hands against his reddened chest made him flinch. Seeing his twinge of pain made me more desperate. With my hips aligned with his, I angled him to my entrance and sank down. A moan slipped from me before I could stop it.

I swirled my hips as I raised and lowered myself over his hard length, stroking him inside me in every place I needed. It didn't take long for me to feel drunk on the ecstasy. The heat rushed through me. My head floated, my vision blurred. He circled his thumb against my clit and the pleasure shot through me like a bolt of lightning.

He caught me mid moan and in a swift move, pinned me to my back. I wrapped my arms around him while he fucked me hard, spreading my legs wide to take me just the way he wanted. With his hips crashing against mine, he gave me just what I needed.

There was no talking, no questions, no answers. It was simply intertwining bodies and vindication in the form of inexplicable passion.

Face to face with my hands in his hair, we met where we left off in Beijing. What we had wanted since that day—the heat, the passion, the place of perfection between our pleasure and our pain. I moaned after every groan that escaped him. My brow twisted as hard as his. We were right there, and yet . . . we lingered. 

He kept fucking me hard and deep, over and over until my body around him and my nails dug into his swollen back. I watched his pupils dilate, his mouth open and with that, the feeling exploded within me so hard I nearly screamed.

With the first contraction of my orgasm around him, he twitched as he filled me with his first stream of heat. Again and again, my sex milked him with every contraction. My head fell back, my skin prickled beneath a mist of sweat, the pleasure downed me in a heat that flowed hard and heavy from deep in my core. He stroked himself slowly against a spot that kept the orgasm rolling through me. The tears streamed down the sides of my face.

The wet sounds as loud as my cries, he picked up his pace to finally end our torment. The orgasm hit me in a second wave, the sensation as intense as when it started. Suddenly, he stopped. As if the pain finally set in, he caught himself as he began to collapse onto me.

My legs wrapped around him, holding him still while the last hot wave fluttered in my sex. With a desperate whimper, I pulled him to me and kissed him passionately.

His fingers dug into the skin of my lower back when he pulled me closer. My hands tangled into his hair. Our kisses were a salve that coxed our breathing back to normal and calmed our fire to a warm, comfortable glow.

When the kiss ended, he surprised me when he hugged me tight against him. "Thank you," he whispered against my cheek. 

I slid my hand up and down his back for comfort, but he flinched. I sighed. "I know it hurts, I know it does. But this—what I do to you—isn't going to erase what you've already been through." He turned to look me in the eyes. "Let me help you. Really help you. Let me—" I stopped when his mouth crashed onto mine.

He held me close, his lips pressed against mine lingered. His thumb brushed back and forth over my cheekbone. Finally, he pulled away, his dark eyes finding mine again. "Alright."

. . .

I poured the epsom salt into the hot water as Augustine climbed in. The modern tub sat across the room from the shower like an expensive, decorative bowl. Once settled, he sighed.

"Join me?" he asked. Given what I just put him through, it would have been wrong for me to deny him what he needed to come down. 

I untied my robe while he moved forward for me. Carefully, I climbed in behind him. The water sloshed toward the edge, but I managed to keep it all inside.

I washed the water over the red marks on his back, but it wasn't enough. He needed to soak. I pulled him to me, coxing him between my legs, his back against my chest. He slid down into a comfortable position. I laid his head back on my shoulder.

Even in the oversized bowl, both of our knees protruded from the white-tinted water. But, in our lounged position with him cradled in my arms, I could think of few moments I had been more comfortable.

I moved the water to wash over his chest and shoulders. He stared ahead as if in a daze. "I'm sorry I never thought to ask about your family," he said.

"It's okay."

"May I . . . May I ask how you lost your parents?"

His question made me pause, but it was far from the most intimate thing we had done that night. "I lost my mom after a long battle with metastatic breast. And my dad . . . I lost him to a heart attack." The memory made my chest hurt. Sympathy pain, I thought. "I still believe it was heartbreak syndrome. It was almost three years to the day my mom passed away."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I've had a lot of time to process it." Though I couldn't manage to say it outright, I hoped he saw where my worry for him originated. I ran my fingers through his hair, using the water to keep it out of his face. His expression hadn't changed.

"Did you have a good relationship with them?" he asked after a moment.

"I did. A very good one."

"I can only imagine that."

"You didn't?"

"No." He sighed and shifted his weight. The water lapped at the side of the tub's walls. "I believe I was born out of duty and not love or desire for a child. I was raised by my nanny—a few actually. We only speak during dutiful holiday check-ins."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"All I've known to do is to give the children the best life I can possibly give them. Have them want for nothing." The fingers of his left hand brushed back and forth against the top of my knee. "I'm too far gone with Matthew. All I can do is give him the tools to leave me and create a happy life for himself."

I pressed a kiss to his jaw. "He can have a relationship with you and a happy life, you know."

"I don't know that he wants that. Or that I deserve it."

I ran my hand over his hair and let it linger. "You do deserve that." He disagreed with a quiet hum. "You won't know what he wants unless you ask."

His fingertips continued their pattern against my skin. He said nothing else.

. . .

In the bed, the lashes on his back and legs were still red, but no longer raised. I smoothed the aloe vera over his skin, massaging his sore muscles at the same time. He looked as tired as I felt. I wanted nothing more but to curl up right there on his back and pass out.

When his muscles felt cooled beneath my palms, I thought he had drifted off to sleep. I rolled onto my back next to him and found his eyes open. 

"Are you feeling any better?" I asked him. He contemplated it for a moment then nodded. "Do you want me to stay?"

"Yes," he muttered half into his pillow.

"Will you be able to wake me before the kids do?"

"Of course." His accent made his words seem warmer than they were.

I settled into the pillow with a sigh, my exhaustion heavy when my eyes closed. Just as I began to drift, I felt his arm around my middle. A moment later, he pressed his chest against my back. His warmth was soothing, the tickle of his breath against my neck calming.

"I am yours, Aubrey," he whispered against the nape of my neck. "In this bed and out. I won't fight it any longer."

I stroked my fingers over the top of his as I fell asleep.

. . .

I woke up at what I thought was an early hour. The sunlight glaring through the windows showed I was wrong. I cursed under my breath and turned to Augustine. To my surprise, he wasn't there. I wasn't in his room.

He must have carried me in here at some point. Had I slept so hard I didn't notice? I searched under my pillow to find my phone where I had left it. My screen was full of a missed call and two text messages.

Guess who's coming to the big apple!

Can you get away to meet us?

Crystal. I had been a horrible friend, so concerned with my current situation, I couldn't even tear my focus away for ten minutes to give her a call.

I pressed the facetime button, not bothering to sit up or get out of bed. "Babe!" she squealed. Her pretty face made me smile. "Looks like someone's been too busy getting her brains fucked out to call me."

I laughed and wiped the hair from my face. "I'm sorry."

"Still getting your rocks off with the eligible bachelor?"

"Yes and no. I mean, yes, with him but . . . I don't know. Things have gotten a bit complicated."

"Oh, things were easy before?"

I sighed. "Good point, as always."

"What's going on now?"

"Something happened in Beijing," I began to explain. "Sebastian called me 'mommy' and it pushed him over the edge. When we got back he tried to fire me and we got in a huge fight."

"But you're still in his house and sleeping with him so I assume things went well after that?"

"Yeah. I mean, after a while. I blew up, told him off, and I think we came to an understanding. He opened up to me."

"Oh, wow. Shit, I was starting to think that would never happen."

"I know. It feels like we're on the same page, that he understands how I can help him and why I would want to."

"You told him about your parents?"

"Yeah."

"Are you okay? Do you need a session?" she asked.

"No, I'm fine." Her mouth twisted in the way it always is when she can't figure out whether to scold me or accept my poor choices. "I was actually hoping you could help me get one for the kids."

"Of course. I'll get something set up for when I'm there."

"Thanks, girl."

Her eyes narrowed. "Aub . . . what am I missing here?" I raised an eyebrow in question. "You got in a fight. You talked to him about the thing you never want to talk about and it sounds like he did the same."

"Yeah?"

"It sounds like something more is going on. He wouldn't be so affected if you were just his nanny or just his fuck buddy," she said. "I think he cares about you. I think he might have feelings for you." My brow tensed with confusion. "Do you feel something for him?"

I blinked. The thought had never crossed my mind. An anxious feeling ached in my chest. "I . . . I don't know."

"Well, while you figure that out, let's figure out these appointments."

I let out a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, sounds good." I could feel the smile on my face, but I knew it wasn't real.

_____

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to vote, comment, and add to your library if you want more!