Bound With Pearls Read Online Free PDF Page A

own pace for now. She put her left knee on the cushion, which brought her breasts eye level.
    He reached out and tweaked a nipple. She froze, a moan escaping her lips.
    “Christine, I’m adding.”
    She scrambled over him, laying her upper body across the bench and her pert ass over his lap.
    He trailed his fingertips along the tender skin at the back of her knee and up her thigh. She shivered. Her breathing was erratic, her response uncontrolled.
    He stopped and focused on her back. He hadn’t expected a tattoo.
    He pushed her hair out of the way. It was tribal, but done in shades of red and purple in such a way that the ink blended with her freckles. Entranced by the swirls of color, he traced a line, finally realizing it was a bird of some sort. The wings curled and fanned up in an arc, the neck arched toward her spine and long tail feathers swirled down her ribs.
    “What’s this?” The stylization wasn’t a typical tribal, it was different and soft.
    She turned her head to look over her shoulder. “A tattoo?”
    He brought his hand down hard across her ass. Christine yelped, unprepared for the hard blow, hands scrabbling against the cushions.
    “I can see it’s a tattoo.”
    “I don’t know what you want to know, Sir.” Her voice wavered, her body tense.
    He ran his hand over the hurt, her skin warm and pink. She slowly relaxed.
    “Fine. What’s the inspiration?”
    “Oh.” She sighed as he kept his touch light, stroking the globes of her ass, exploring the crease where her thigh and bottom met. “Our family has Russian roots. I read a kid’s book with these beautiful pictures. I liked the firebirds.”
    He lightly paddled both sides of her ass. The flush was paler, though the area from earlier was still an angry red.
    Daniel wasn’t one for inflicting pain. It did little for him. It was the response he was after. The way her skin turned colors—from rose quartz to something closer to a rhodolite garnet—turned him on. Even the way she gulped down air and braced herself for the blows that had stopped coming.
    Gently massaging her skin, he leaned back. If she were his, he’d be tempted to order her to lie across his lap anytime he watched TV so he could pet her ass as though she were a cat. The mental image had him muffling a chuckle.
    “What’s funny?” Her voice was husky.
    He smacked her other cheek, giving it a red, blazing handprint to match. She yelped, but instead of tensing, pushed her ass into his palm. A cat, indeed. For good measure, he delivered varying blows, concentrating on framing the two splotches of color. Her yelps turned into moans and her head tossed back and forth while one leg kicked up.
    “Up,” he ordered.
     
    Christine’s head spun. How long had it been since someone spanked her? She was learning her lesson—when Daniel wanted her to do something, he wanted her to do it immediately.
    She slid off his lap and into a crouch. Fingertips resting on the polished concrete, she used the coolness to steady herself.
    He reclined as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t petted and smacked her. As if she hadn’t been moaning her head off.
    “I want you to go to the wardrobe. Inside the bag is a yellow pouch. Bring that here. Go.”
    Obeying was easy. If she concentrated on what he told her to do, everything would be okay. Her ass would hurt tomorrow. She bruised easily, but she didn’t care about the marks he’d leave. She wanted to please Daniel. Show him that she was better than her sister.
    The yellow pouch was sitting on top of an assortment of toys she wanted both to try and to run from. In comparison, the pouch looked innocent.
    Returning to the chaise, she kept her eyes down.
    “Straddle me.”
    Her head snapped up. She hesitated, at least until he lifted a brow. Bag in hand, she did as he asked. His hands settled on her thighs, thumbs rubbing small circles against her.
    “Open the bag.”
    She followed his directions and held it in front of her without