He moved a hand to her pussy, sliding through her wetness. When his finger traced over her clit, she gasped at the sheer rush. But his finger eased away, gathered moisture, and then circled her clit. Around and around.

Pressure built inside her, and everything tightened, begging for just a little more. She moaned.

“Lovely,” he murmured and stepped away. Before she could whimper a protest, the flogger struck her again, up and down her legs, front and back, then over her bottom, and a sting joined the thudding sensations. Not hurting, not really. Over her shoulders lightly and her hips, the blows circled her, and each time, the strands landed a little harder.

Still it didn't hurt, exactly, but she'd rather have his hands on her.

His eyes narrowed. “There goes that mind of yours, thinking away. You definitely need a tad more.”

She caught her breath, hoping he'd touch her. Amazing how her inhibitions had disappeared.

Smiling slightly, he laid the flogger down next to his bag and pulled out a leather collar, fully as wide as his hand.

A collar? What kind of “more” was that?

He fitted it around her neck, adjusted her chin to rest in a small notch, and buckled it. Then he stood in front of her, caressing her cheek. Waiting.

He hadn't fastened it too snugly, and yet when she tried to move, she realized it raised her chin and kept her from looking either around or down. A flash of panic went through her and died at the steady look in his eyes.

“I won't leave you, sweetheart. If anything bothers you too much, use your safe word. Do you understand?”

She tried to nod and couldn't.

His eyes crinkled. “Say, 'Yes, sir.'”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Now you just stay put while I enjoy myself.”

What did that mean? Her hands curled into balls as he knelt. With her chin held up by the collar, she couldn't see him. The bastard. Yet the arousal in her body edged up a notch as she waited for his touch. She had to wait; couldn't do anything else.

She heard a rustle, felt his hands on her pussy, and damn, it felt so good, his firm hands doing whatever he wanted. He buckled some sort of harness around her thighs and waist. Okay, that wasn't so bad, but then something pushed up inside her. Something cool. Hard. Not his fingers.

“What are you doing?” Her voice shook.

“Whatever I want, sweetheart.” Liquid drizzled down her pussy, wet and cold, and she jumped. She felt a pinch over her clit, one that didn't release. Not painful but…disconcerting. A few clipping sounds and then tugs on the harness. “I'm just adjusting everything so it stays in place.”

So what stays in place? She throbbed from the pressure of whatever was inside and from whatever sat over her clit. What was he doing?

When he stood, he had a microphone on his collar and a box— a control box?—

clipped to his waistband.

Before she figured out what that combination meant, he ran his firm hands over her, stroking her skin, cupping her breasts, sending the warmth rising in her again. His lips settled on hers, and he took a long kiss. God, he could kiss. Her body relaxed…and heated.

He pulled back, smiled into her eyes, and then flipped a switch on the box.

Something made tapping sensations her clit and up inside her. Like tiny hammers. She jerked, her eyes wide. “What is that?”

“I'll show you in a bit. Your only job is to let me know if anything becomes uncomfortable.” He put a finger on her chin and gave her an uncompromising look.

“Otherwise I do not want to hear you speak. Am I clear, pet?”

She stiffened yet melted inside at his low, resonant voice and the commanding look in his eyes. “Yes, Sir.”

As the tapping increased—somehow different from a vibrator, more inside than out—her clit tightened until it felt as if it would burst. Everything down there coiled, aching for more, and it wasn't enough. She smothered a moan. And she realized he'd stepped away to study her reactions.

He nodded. “Perfect.” And then his flogger struck her thighs. The added sensation shocked through her and zoomed straight to her clit. Her legs tensed, and she rocked. He didn't stop. The leather strands hit lightly up her back, and each blow made the burning need in her pussy worse, so much worse.

She closed her eyes, swamped by the sensations.

He lashed her bottom, the backs of her thighs. “Rona.”

With his words, the tingling on her clit increased in force and speed, and she moaned uncontrollably.

A second later the tapping abated. The flogger didn't. “Rona. Look at me.”

Again, the vibrations intensified for a few seconds. Not nearly long enough.

And the flogger never stopped, weaving a sensory spell around her. Up her legs, almost touching her pussy.

Oh God, just a little more. Her hands closed into fists, and her neck arched.

“Look. At. Me.”

Again, the tapping strengthened, quickened, and the searing wave of arousal inside her and across her clit almost got her off, but then the vibrations slowed. She forced her eyes open.

His smile flashed in that chiseled face. “That's a girl.”

Her back arched as the jump in sensations blew through her again. As they decreased, she stared at the mike clipped to his shirt. Oh, Crom. He could change the intensity of vibrations with his voice—with sound control.

The flogger struck her harder, each blow a flashing pain that stung and shunted more urgency through her until every nerve seemed swallowed by need.

But she couldn't, couldn't get off. She whimpered. “Oh please…”

He chuckled, and just that tiny amount of sound shot through her like he'd pinched her clit.

Her hands clenched as she hovered on the pinnacle, with pain and pleasure so securely wound together, she just might die.

“All right, sweetie,” he murmured.

Oh God, the feeling with his words. Sweat rolled down her back as she strained toward the climax she couldn't reach.

And then he said loudly, oh so loudly, “Let's hear you scream, pet.” The vibrations turned exquisitely powerful inside and across her clit, and his flogger lashed across her breasts.

She exploded, wave after wave of blazing pleasure pouring through every nerve in her body, shaking her like a rag doll. Her legs simply collapsed.

“Very nice,” he said, and the sound kicked off more vibrations. As the intense spasms shocked through her, she couldn't move, couldn't do anything except feel each rippling wave. When they finally stopped, she hung limply from the chains, her mind hazed. Satisfied. Stunned.

She barely registered his removing everything, undoing the harness on her thighs, then the collar. Too heavy to stay upright, her head rested against her chained arm.

“Hang on another minute, lass.” He unchained her wrists and caught her around the waist when she'd have folded right onto the floor. A second later her brain went into a roller-coaster swirl. She blinked in astonishment— he's carrying me?—and stared up at his corded neck and strong jaw. Rock-hard arms held her against his solid chest, and the scent of his subtly musky cologne surrounded her.

The disconcerting sense of fragility blended with the wonderful feeling of being cherished.

Chapter Three

Now wasn't she the nicest armful he'd had in a long time? The way her body fit against his made Simon wonder if their personalities would match equally well.

Logical or not, everything inside him said yes.

He took a seat in a nearby leather chair and settled her comfortably on his lap.

Her soft ass pressed against his painfully rigid cock, and she obviously felt it. “What about you?” she murmured. “Can I—”

“No, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of her head, warmth seeping into him both from her body and from the knowledge that she wanted to give back as well as to receive. “This evening was for your pleasure.”

And for his, in a way. He'd enjoyed introducing her to BDSM more than anything he'd done in a long time. He smiled, remembering how the wariness in her eyes had warred with the arousal of her body. When she had set her hand in his, the trust she'd given him had squeezed his heart.

He rubbed his chin on her silky hair, pleased with her light fragrance of vanilla and citrus that created the feeling of a garden within the wilderness of the club. Her cheek rested against his chest, and she gripped the front placket of his old-fashioned shirt as if she feared he'd leave her. Not a chance.

But he shouldn't let her get too comfortable. This woman needed to be kept off balance, at least for now. So he contracted his grip and ran his free hand over her bare breasts, smiling when she startled.

“Don't move, pet,” he cautioned her.

Sweetly submissive, she stilled, although her breathing increased.

He pleased himself with the feel of her round breasts. Despite her recent orgasm, her satiny nipples responded quickly, forming dark pink peaks. When he pinched one, she quivered and looked up at him.

Her turquoise-colored eyes were very vulnerable in the aftermath of the scene and roused all his protective instincts. Odd. He hadn't felt this intensely about anyone since the birth of his son. He kissed her lightly, reassuringly, and felt her muscles relax.

“Did you like your first experience with BDSM?” he asked. He knew one answer, considering how hard she'd come, but a woman's fears and worries couldn't be plumbed in just one evening.

“Well. I… Yes, I did.”

No coy answers from this sub. Damn, she pleased him.

He stroked her cheek, holding her gaze. “What part did you like the most?”

She stiffened, obviously unused to intimate questions. She'd have to learn better. Not only did he require it as a dom, but also as a lover. And he wanted to know her all the way down to her soul. He tightened his grip and moved his hand back to her breasts, increasing their physical intimacy to match the emotional.

“Answer me.”

Her body softened at his firm order. Submissive. But still silent.

“All right, I'll help. Did you like the flogging?” He ran his hand under her round ass to where he'd struck the hardest, and squeezed her undoubtedly sore flesh.

She jumped.

“Or the electrical play?” He touched her still-wet pussy, enjoying the drifting scent of her arousal.

Her body stiffened, and she tried to sit up, but his arm around her shoulders kept her in place. She was going nowhere. He ran his fingers up and down her swollen labia and grazed the vulnerable little clit.

She inhaled sharply.

Was she this responsive with everyone, or did her body also recognize the connection between them? “Do I need to show you the choices again?”

Two people walking past overheard and laughed.

Her cheeks flushed a lovely pink. She cleared her throat. “No. The electrical stuff. Only, if I'd known you wanted to do that, I—”

“You'd never have allowed an electrode anywhere near this pretty pussy?”

“Crom no.”

Crom. He'd heard that odd word used as a soft curse one time before. Where?

Then he smiled slowly as he remembered. “The riot after the football game.”

“Excuse me?”

“Last year, you helped my son when he got hurt in the riot.” While Simon had fought the surging crowd from trampling Danny, Rona had braced his son's broken arm and checked him for other injuries. Her low, soft voice had been compassionate, and her matter-of-fact tone, reassuring. She'd directed her two teenage boys to help Danny stand, so Simon could get him out of the mess. Then, trailed by her sons, she'd moved on to assist others. Danny still called her his football angel.

“Oh.” She frowned at him. “I don't remember you.”

“You concentrated on my son.” He rubbed his chin against her wavy hair. A ball cap had hidden it that night, and she'd worn jeans and a high school letter jacket. No wonder he hadn't recognized her. “What is a Crom, anyway?”

When she gave a husky laugh, he grinned. He'd been right, her voice had indeed deepened after she'd come. “It's the god of Conan the Barbarian. My superhero-worshipping sons and I decided Crom wouldn't mind if we took his name in vain.”

“Ah.” Both practical and quirky. “Well, my son and I thank you for your help that night.” He kissed her gently for thanks, then continued, teasing her mouth, savoring the softness, the willingness to enjoy, and the delightful skill with which she ran her tongue over his lips, alternating with gentle nibbles.