When he lit it, a shudder went through her. She gritted her teeth and looked down.

“Did you use lotion after showering as I asked?” His voice was casual, like checking if she’d added pepper to the seasonings.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Excellent. It’ll keep your skin nice and moist.” He soaked a bath blanket in the sink and wrung it out. That, a pitcher of water, and a fire extinguisher went on the floor at the far end of the desk.

“You going to set the place on fire too?” As well as me? Her voice came out a high whine.

“It’s a corollary to Murphy’s law. If you’re not prepared, bad things will happen. If you are, nothing goes wrong.” He pulled a fabric-covered pad out of the cabinet. It was so thick it raised the top of the desk to his waist. He smiled at her. “And this material won’t burn, gatita. Now come here.”

I’d rather not. “Yes, Sir.” She rose, striving for poise, since three people had already gathered outside the window. She’d never felt less like putting on a show.

He followed her gaze, then grasped her waist and set her on the desk. The material was cold against her butt, the foam soft. “People will watch, and it’s nice to know they enjoy what we do, but this scene, Kimberly, is only between you and me.” He kissed her lightly, and she inhaled the faint scent of his cologne, the one she thought of as sea mist and testosterone.

After walking behind her, he pulled her hair to the center of her back and…

“You know how to braid hair?” she asked, recognizing the tugging feeling.

“Mmmhmm. I used to brush and braid my mamá’s hair.” He was actually humming along with the music, and she realized it wasn’t the Goth band playing on the dance floor. The room had its own sound system, and this was a Secret Garden album. One of her favorites. Soothing.

“You’re trying to calm me down before setting me on fire.”

A sharper tug on her hair. “This will not hurt you…unless I wish.” He pinched her arm, a sharp nip. “That’s as bad as it should get.”

She breathed out. “You’re sure?”

“I have been doing this for many years, sumisita.” He tied a string around the end of her hair and stepped in front of her, taking her face between his hard palms. His eyes were so serious and caring and yet…stern. She might be afraid, but this was what they were going to do. He wouldn’t back down—and why did that seem as reassuring as it did terrifying? Sometimes she didn’t make any sense, even to herself.

“This is about trust, cariño, as so many scenes are. Human instinct is to fear the flame. Now we shall see if your trust in me can overcome it.”

Oh, when he talked like that, she knew he’d never hurt her. “I trust you,” she whispered.

“Brave gatita,” he murmured. “I know you do. Now I want you on your knees, ass high, leaning on your forearms.”

What? He planned to set her butt on fire first?

Once she was positioned, he ran his hands over her, rubbing firmly, waking her skin, waking her, darn him, as he moved from her shoulders, to her waist, and slowly down. He fondled her bottom for a long while, never touching anything, until all her anythings throbbed, needing to be touched. Her fingers tightened on the foam as she realized he was deliberately arousing her.

As he pushed her legs slightly apart, she felt her wetness dampening her inner thighs. A second later, he pressed open her folds with his fingers, and he gave a satisfied hum.

Dammit, after the past few days, he knew just how to turn her on, and her body roused for him at a finger snap anyway. Too easily. Her head bowed, and she shut her eyes tightly. Slut. I’m a dirty—

The sound of a hand hitting flesh was simultaneous with the shocking sting on her bottom. “Ow!”

“You don’t think those nasty thoughts about my sumisita, Kimberly.” Another ruthless swat made her grimace as the pain shot through her.

His thick finger touched her pussy and pushed firmly into her. She gasped. Her need to wiggle was stopped by the heavy palm on her ass. He slid his finger in and out and chuckled. “I think if you stay with me much longer, we should have a few spanking sessions just for fun.”

Her no was contradicted by the way her pussy contracted around him.

“Spread your legs more,” he said, and as she opened, his other hand traced a path between her labia, spreading wetness upward. When one calloused finger grazed over her clit, slick and rough at the same time, she moaned at the excruciating jolt of pleasure.

“Feel, gatita. This is ‘A.’” His finger slid up and around her clit in an odd pattern. “B.” A different pattern. “C.” Swirling touches over her clit. Never the same place twice. But with each new letter and the slow thrust of his finger, in and out, her need steadily increased.

“G…”

No. Stop. She could feel the blood swelling her tissue until her lower half pulsed in time with her heart.

Two fingers slid into her, filling and stretching. “L.”

“I don’t want to come. Please, Master. No. Not here.”

“This time you don’t have a choice, cariño,” he said levelly. He never slowed, actually pressed deeper. “O… But since you don’t want to share with our audience, then you will come without moving or making any noise…or I’ll spank you some more.”

Oh God, that just made her more frantic—and he knew it. Drown him. Her fingers gripped the edges of the foam pad as her willpower started to disintegrate, leaving her unmoored, floating away on the tide.

“R.” After kissing the hollow of her back, he nipped her bottom, and the zing of pain sent a tremor through her.

Don’t move; don’t make noise. She trembled, trying to hold still, needing to wiggle, feeling how her vagina tightened around his fingers as she got closer. No, I don’t want to. Her world narrowed to his slow tracing of the alphabet until each nerve around her clit quivered in anticipation of his touch. Oh God, she needed more. More. Her pulse hammered in her ears and between her legs. As her muscles tightened, her ass tilted just a little more.

“V.” He chuckled, a low sound that almost sent her over. And then, to her shock, he added another finger, thrusting hard. She gasped as every muscle contracted around him, increasing the sense of fullness.

Her body gathered; her breathing slowed to nothing. Almost. Oh please.

“We should try clamping this someday.” His words made no sense…until his fingers firmly pinched her clit.

Oh oh oh. Explosion. Mind-shattering pleasure blasted outward as every nerve in her body fired at once. She shuddered—don’t move—and her immobility intensified everything until her skin itself pulsed with the sensations. She shoved her hand into her mouth, trying to stifle the cries.

“Pretty sumisita.” As he chuckled and released her clit, the blood surged madly back into it, and the rush of sensation seized her body, shaking it out of her control.

He slid his fingers out and gripped her hips, holding her firmly. Her heart thudded against her ribs as she gasped for air.

“I heard too much noise, and you definitely moved,” he said. Before she had a chance to regain her breath, four more stinging swats landed on her bottom.

Her insides clenched as the sting somehow engulfed her clit in another rolling wave of pleasure. She tried not to moan. Who knew what he’d do?

His sure hands rubbed her stinging cheeks, soothing the burn. Soothing her. Her breathing started to slow.

“Down you go,” he said, pulling her legs out straight and flattening her, stomach-down, on the pad.

Oh God. Her butt throbbed, and her body still jerked from coming so fast and hard. Now more? I don’t want to do this.

He dangled her braid off the side of the desk, laid a damp hand towel over her hair, and pulled the sturdy table of torture toys closer. When he lit the candle, it flamed up like a torch, scaring her spitless. With a grunt, he took something from his boot and snipped the wick. Making the flame shorter. Flame.

She closed her mouth over a whimper.

He returned the tool to his boot, then leaned over the table, his hand on her back. With a squeeze on her shoulder, he kissed her cheek. She saw the stern set of his jaw. His dark, dark brown eyes looked into hers. “Do you trust me, cariño?”

The question melted whatever resistance remained after his demonstration of how easily he could control her body. “I do,” she whispered.

He waited.

“I do, Master.” He’d showed he owned her body; now he wanted her soul as well—and he had it. God help her, he did.

His knuckles grazed down her face, over her lips. “You please me very much, gatita,” he said softly.

Oh, she wanted to, so very badly.

He moved away to lower the lighting in the room until it was like dusk after a sunset. Then he leaned on the desk, close enough she could feel his body brush against hers. “Breathe, Kimberly, and listen to the music. I picked this for you.”

As his calloused hand stroked up and down her back, her muscles relaxed, flattening into the pad. Her breathing kept pace with the rhythm of the song, the slow sweep of his hand.

She felt something different—a cool streak and a flashing warmth almost simultaneously, and his hand slid over the same spot. Again, and again, and she realized there was no pain, just a touch of cool, then heat following and disappearing under the rough stroke of his hand. A circle around her bottom. Down her legs and up to her back. His rhythm was the lapping of water on the beach, not quite regular, but so natural. Warmth, stroke.