Free Safe in His Arms by Renee Rose Page A

picked up his belt from the floor and stood as he doubled it, watching the way her eyes flickered from his face to the implement. He cupped her chin. “You’re not going to cry French fry on me today, are you?” he asked.
    “No, sir,” she whispered.
    “Good girl. Now bend over the bed and hold your own wrists behind your back.”
    She took the position, her hesitation seeming to be over a desire to get his instructions right rather than out of unwillingness. She folded her arms behind her, gripping her own wrists.
    “Good girl.” He brought the strap down with enough force to make her jerk and gasp, then repeated the action again and again, not allowing her to catch her breath or manage her emotions.
    Her toes began to scramble on the floor as she wriggled in pain. He saw a sheen of sweat break out on the skin of her back. She released her wrists, then caught them again, her natural instincts to avoid pain clearly battling with her desire to please him.
    He whipped her hard, because this was a lesson he truly wanted her to learn, beyond any kind of kinky fun and games they might play. Her safety meant everything to him. He would kill or die for her, and to have her take such a needless, stupid risk wasn’t something he would let slide.
    He whipped until the sound of a sob made him falter. He didn’t want to go on. He’d spanked soundly and she was already crying. His urge to protect pushed to the foreground, as he let go any desire to teach her a lesson. He cursed himself for promising a paddling as well. Dropping the belt, he rolled her up into his arms, kissing her wet cheek. A stinging behind his own eyes surprised him and he blurted out its cause in a choked voice: “I love you, Becca.”
     
    * * *
     
    She’d been hiding her face against his chest, but her eyes flew open at his words as she stared at him in surprise. He looked shocked himself, as if he hadn’t meant to say such a thing out loud. He blinked rapidly.
    “Speak low if you speak love,” she murmured.
    His brow furrowed, then cleared. “Shakespeare?”
    She nodded, reaching up to touch his cheek, then pulled his head down to hers, her mouth hungry for his, her tongue aggressive. His hands tightened on her, and he lifted her as he stood, returning her kiss with a heat and urgency that sent an enthusiastic spasm through her pussy.
    He broke the kiss and tossed her back on the bed, peeling his shirt off in one swift motion, unbuttoning his pants as he climbed over her. The sight of an angry gash across his ribs made her gasp, but he ignored it, grabbing her knees and pushing them back to her shoulders, rolling her up like a ball and opening her sex to him. She jerked as his warm tongue licked into her, already just one stroke away from orgasm. The fresh pain of the whipping morphed into nothing more than a titillating sensation to track, along with the stimulation of his fingers pinching and tugging on one nipple as he worked his magic below.
    “Please,” she pleaded, palming his head as his tongue penetrated and retreated, then circled her clit. She moaned and pushed his face into her, unable to move her hips against him in the position he had her pinned. “Please…Zac. Please,” she begged. She fought for control of her legs, but he smacked her flayed butt to keep her in place, turning her to mush with the evoked submission.
    He slid two fingers inside, finding her g-spot. She let out a squeal, panic at her loss of control welling up moments before she squirted. Embarrassed, she tried to squirm away, but Zac didn’t relent.
    “Oh, yeah, Becca,” he murmured approvingly at the squirt, pumping his fingers in and out of her, hitting the g-spot each time until her muscles clamped down on his fingers and she howled with the orgasm that ripped through her. Her entire body trembled as he gradually released her knees and slid his fingers out of her. She collapsed in a limp heap, panting, staring up at him. He climbed over her, settled his hips