Waiting for Him Read Online Free PDF

of bliss. She gripped the table edge harder, the wood digging into her skin a good distraction. If she concentrated on that…
    The paddle connected with her arse, and she let out a whoomph of air and a strangled groan. She hadn’t been expecting him to strike so quickly, and cursed herself for not being ready. The hit was light enough that she only received a smidgen of pain compared to what she’d endured in the past, although someone being spanked for the first time might say it was more than a smidgen. For her it was much like the bite of the whip, something she had grown accustomed to. But he had gone easy on her—too easy—and despite the warring emotions inside her— you should have struck me hard straight off, John… I’m glad you didn’t hit me full force… God, I’m so glad you didn’t do that —she allowed a second or two to berate herself then relaxed. Waited for the next hit. Her arse stung in what felt like a million places, a million pinpricks of delight that burrowed from the surface of her skin right down into her hip bones. She liked it, loved it, adored it, and for a moment wondered, if this light hit gave so much pleasure, what a harder one would deliver.
    John struck again, double the strength of the first one, and her body shunted up the table. She almost lost her grip on the edge, and as a shout of surprise brewed she inhaled deeply, losing herself in the million pinpricks becoming twofold, the heat of pain tunnelling deeper still, right into her damn marrow. She shuddered, the kick of getting what she wanted streaking through her to mesh with the sensations of pain. Her breath caught in her throat, her head spun, and one of her knees jolted.
    “Are you all right, pet?”
    She nodded again, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.
    “Is there anything you want to say?” he asked.
    “More. Do it again. Harder. Sir.”
    She lifted her head and glanced back at him, primarily to check whether he was willing to go further but also to let him see her eyes. The naked want in them, the message that she was fine, that she could handle this.
    “Very well, pet.”
    He lifted the paddle and for a split second she toyed with the idea of watching it arc, seeing it soar through the air then hit her. Instead, she closed her eyes and managed the count of ‘one Mississippi’ before that stud-covered rectangle whacked onto her arse, overlapping the previous site by what she judged as a couple of inches, gifting fresh, deliciously spiteful pain to the skin closest to her crack. Her flesh quivered from the assault, sending ripples of movement down her arse cleft and into the pulsating folds of her cunt. She wanted to order him to strike again, harder, faster, with barely any space in between, a full-on, frenzied thrashing that would have her sinking to her knees, her hands sliding over the tabletop as she scrabbled to regain purchase.
    “What do you want, pet?”
    “Lots more. One after the other. Quickly, Sir.”
    She angled her head and opened her eyes, looking at him in the mirror. He didn’t meet her eyes in the reflection but studied her in person. A curved curtain of his hair hung against one cheek, the ends resting on his shoulder, the other side flicked back so she could see all of his face. She felt like a voyeur, ogling his bare emotions this way, like someone spying on a private moment that wasn’t meant for anyone else’s eyes. But he wasn’t one to shy away from expressing himself—he’d given her all of himself too many months ago to count.
    Guilt prickled her. So why couldn’t she do the same for him? Why did she feel she needed to hold on to that one remaining thing?
    Because if I let myself go completely…I risk getting hurt.
    Shoving that thought aside, she held her breath as he lifted his arm. He grimaced, possibly steeling himself for the barrage she’d requested, then brought his arm down. This time she watched the paddle meet her flesh, surprised he had used the