Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 163328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
“This?” My pulse rammed like a sledge in my ears. “What—?”
In a blur, his hand stabbed into my hair, fingers clenching in the curls at my scalp and yanking my head back.
“Listen carefully, Goldilocks.” He forced my eyes to meet his tyrannical glare, his voice chillingly absent of storm or wind. “I will not give you the reaction you seek. But I will always make good on your punishment.”
I didn’t need the higher learning of a titled lord to comprehend his meaning. Not with my cunt still swollen from last night’s smiting.
Reaching back, my shaking fingers closed around the hand in my hair, and I felt the trembling in him, too.
He was shaking. I hadn’t invented that reaction nor the hunger pulsing in his gaze. He wanted this. Not just to maintain order. The thought of reddening my backside aroused him.
A shiver ran along my spine and curled into my belly.
“No restraints.” I wet my lips, my eyes watering from the smarting pain in my skull. “I’ll obey.”
His hand vanished. My knees turned to liquid, and I stumbled against the table.
The humiliation from a spanking would hurt more than the physical blows. But with his hand in contact with my arse, there would be a measure of intimacy in that. A step in the right direction.
“How many prisoners have you spanked, Commodore?” I folded at the waist and braced my elbows on the table, holding his gaze over my shoulder.
“None.” He stepped behind me and kicked my feet apart, staggering the rhythm of my breaths. “Arms over your head.”
My skin heated, and a shiver of uncertainty invaded my nerves. But I did as ordered, sliding my hands across the table and bringing my chest and cheek to the wooden surface. The position prevented me from looking at him, but I felt him everywhere. His muscled heat, commanding presence, penetrating gaze on my bottom…
He lifted the weight of my hair to the side. Then a firm finger touched the base of my skull. From there, it trailed down my spine, over the stays, and pressed low, forcing me into a deeper arch.
His other hand rested on the back of my thigh, the heat of it seeping through the thin linen and making me quake. I didn’t want him to know how easily I responded to his touch, but my body didn’t understand the wisdom in discretion.
My flesh rose in prickling bumps like the skin of a plucked goose. Noisy gasps heaved from my chest. Tremors danced up and down my legs, shivering the muscle beneath his hand.
Beyond the open door of the balcony, the distant thunder of waves rumbled on the horizon. Wood creaked with the rolling of the warship. And behind me, masculine breaths grew deeper, louder.
“Do you like what you see?” I closed my eyes and ordered my limbs to relax.
“I never imagined,” he murmured, “that a view could pertain to the sense of touch. Yet when I look at you, I don’t just see beauty. I feel it.”
The compliment shocked my eyes open as each word sank beneath my breastbone and saturated the spot where I was the softest and easiest to injure.
“Seeing you like this…” He shifted, leaning along my side and taking in my form. “It’s a feeling of such…relief. Like stepping into the rain after years of drought.” His gaze strolled along the length of my body, his voice deepening. “The untamed serenity in it, soft as velvet, gentle waves of perfect beauty, glistening with life. One look is a shower that washes the senses anew.”
I didn’t know if he was talking about the rain or me, but I clung to his voice, to the pledge in it. For a man who didn’t express his feelings, he could enslave a woman’s emotions through language alone.
If this was a maneuver to knock me off-balance, he wasn’t failing. Every wistful particle of my being was on its way to believing.
He straightened and removed his frock. It fell over a nearby chair. His waistcoat followed. Then the fabric on my backside slid upward, exposing me from the waist down.
His breathing altered, and I felt everything inside me accelerate. He was inspecting me, staring hard at my squirming bare arse.
“Don’t move.” His hoarse command scratched my ears, restraining me without rope or iron.
Through layers of nothing but thinning air, he rubbed his gaze against me, taking his time, stirring me up. Christ, he was a master at this—dominating a woman without so much as a touch.
Shivers of anticipation sprung from each passing second he made me wait. I delighted in the moment, pierced with the thrill of danger as I strained to hear him, see him, and feel his punishment light up my skin.
His patience shocked me with wonder. I imagined he fought battles at the helm of this ship with the same hard, enduring stillness. I fell so deeply entranced by it that I wasn’t ready when the atmosphere shifted.