"But I trust you…" I gasp when I feel his tongue at the base of my back, licking all the way up my spine. "Mmm… Yan…"
"Weren't you taught not to trust a Morelli, sweetheart?"
He bites my shoulder all of a sudden and I cry out, the delicious pain followed by the massage of his tongue and mouth. He's playing with me, hurting and loving me at the same time, making me delirious with need. That's what's happening right now. I need him. I NEED him.
"Painting," I pant, "Let's use painting."
"Painting it is."
Let's be honest, I already know I won't need any safewords with him.
"Tell me what you want, Ree," he asks, and then I feel something flat and leathery up my leg. I realize it's the paddle.
"Spank me."
"Say it like you mean it."
"Spank me, please…"
"Again."
"Spank me, please, Sir."
There's a pregnant pause in the air, and I don't feel him moving behind me until he speaks again.
"What did you call me?"
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