Grant turned back around, a small box in his hand. He gave her a wry smile as his gaze drifted over her body. “I see you like my collection.”

Her brows knitted. Did she? Picking apart the difference between fright and anticipation was growing murkier and murkier.

“Stop trying to analyze your response, sweet Charlotte. I can hear your cogs grinding from here. That’s not going to do you any good.” He stepped closer and pulled something out of the box. “Maybe this will help you get out of your head.”

She glanced down to see a flesh-colored dildo in his palm. The chains rattled again, her heart now pounding louder than the rock music filtering through the barn.

He tossed the empty box to the side and then tapped her inner thigh with his free hand. “Spread your legs wider.”

She did, her body acting before her mind caught up. She flinched when he dragged the cool silicone along her folds, but her muscles trembled in anticipation. He tucked a finger inside her, readying her, then moved his hand away and inserted the dildo. She groaned, the fit tight, the sensation intense. Her fingers flexed against the ropes above as he slid it out a bit, then back in, nudging it deeper. God, was he going to be this slow and methodical about everything? He was going to drive her mad.

“Very nice, Charlotte. Now squeeze your thighs together. You’re not allowed to let it slip out.”

She shifted her legs back into position, her body clasping the invasion. Grant removed something from his pocket and pressed a button. Charli’s body arched as the dildo hummed to life, vibrating inside her. “Oh…”

Her face tilted toward the ceiling as sensation radiated outward, crawling over her nerve endings.

“That’s right, darlin’. Give over to it.” Grant gave a little tug on the chain between her breasts and she jerked, the combination of pain and pleasure almost sending her right over into orgasm. She yanked at her bindings, desperate for that release, for that one little extra touch that would trigger it. But he didn’t give it to her.

Grant brushed her cheek, his expression surprisingly tender. “You don’t like your body. You think you’re too tall, not soft and curvy enough.” He stepped back toward his cabinet and selected a riding crop. He faced her, rolling the shaft of the crop between his fingers. “You know what I see?”

She shook her head, fighting to stay focused despite the throbbing need overtaking her body. “No, sir.”

“I see an athlete, a woman who can endure more than most, a woman who I don’t have to worry about crushing when she’s beneath me.” He walked forward and circled the tip of the crop around her navel. “A woman I can play rough with.”

He snapped the crop against her mound, hitting right above her clit, and her control nearly shattered. She moaned and canted her hips forward. “Oh, God.”

He smiled and walked around the bed, disappearing from view. But she could sense when he stopped behind her, feel his stare. “I see a woman who isn’t afraid to bungee jump off a bridge or go after what she wants. A girl who likes to play at the edge.”

Grant traced the tip of the crop down her spine, sliding it over her sweat-dampened skin. “And that, sweet Charlotte, is the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

She heard the riding crop slice through the air before it landed with a sharp smack against her ass. She reared up with a soft moan, the sensation foreign but somehow exactly what she craved—painful and sweet all at once. The vibrator shifted inside her and she clamped her thighs tight again, making sure not to let it slide out.

Grant hit her again on the back of her thigh, then on the other cheek. She writhed against the sting, somehow aching for more.

“That’s right, darlin’. Look how perfectly you respond. Let go and I’ll take you under.”

He increased the speed, landing blow after blow along her ass, her thighs, her back and shoulders. Smack. Smack. Smack. The rhythm of his swats matched the driving beat of the music, sending her senses into a tumble. Adrenaline flooded her system and her brain began to buzz, a soft, pleasant hum she could get lost in. She sagged against the bindings, sweat glazing her skin and her body pulsing with need. Her sex throbbed around the vibrator, silently begging for the real thing.

Her fingers curled, her palms opening and closing, searching for a hold on something as everything inside her seemed to be breaking open. Her breath rasped out of her. “Grant, sir, please…”

The crop stilled, but the vibrating inside intensified as Grant apparently dialed up the strength. A groan rumbled out of her, and his boots came back into view. She closed her eyes, needing every ounce of focus to fight off her release. Her whole body began to tremble.

The smooth leather touched her folds. “Come for me, Charlotte.”

Grant tapped the crop against her sex with a quick, smarting snap, and all semblance of her control fragmented into a million flecks of sensation. She screamed, her voice echoing through the cavernous space, as her orgasm flooded every nerve ending.

Grant continued to tap her with the crop, though with a softer hand, as her release rolled through her. Then, when she thought every ounce of energy had been wrung from her, he pulled off the nipple clamps, sending fiery pain spiraling in with the bliss. Another orgasm chased the first, short and intense. And she could do nothing but let it have her. The blinding sensations had stolen any control she had left over her own response. She was merely a blissed-out passenger on Grant’s train.

“That’s it, my girl,” Grant soothed. “Let it take you down.”

When her body finally quieted and the vibrator had been turned off, she melted against the bindings, the rope the only thing keeping her upright. Cool fingers touched the abraded skin at her wrists, and the tension gave way. Grant lowered her arms to her sides, rubbing the numbness from them, and then slowly eased the vibrator out of her. When he stepped back, she managed to raise her head and found him staring at her with the look of a man starved.

The sight stole her breath. Even though she knew she had to be a sight with streaked makeup and sweaty skin, she felt…beautiful.

He leaned forward and swiped moisture from her cheeks with his thumbs. “Are those good tears or bad ones, freckles?”

Confused, she reached up, touched her face. Had she been crying?

“I should give you a break,” he said gruffly and moved to take a step back.

But with speed she wouldn’t have thought herself capable of at the moment, she grabbed his forearm, halting him. “Please. Don’t. I need…” His pulse beat hard and steady beneath her fingertips as she formed her thoughts.

Yes, part of her felt spent, like she’d been sliced right open and emptied, but something deep and indefinable yearned for more. Yearned for Grant. Inside her. On her. Invading her every cell. She wanted him to overtake her. To lose herself in him.

“I need you,” she whispered.

His expression darkened, a sinister and wholly carnal desire flashing through his blue eyes. He pulled his arm from her grip. “Undress me.”

Her blood surged at the words alone. She was going to be able to touch him, to see him. She scooted to the edge of the bed and stood on still shaky legs. “I’d love to.”

She went to work on the buttons of his shirt, taking her time and enjoying the heat of his skin beneath her fingers. Without taking his eyes off her, he shrugged it off his shoulders, revealing a broad chest dusted with dark hair—sexy and masculine with a few scars from battles he’d probably never tell her about. She touched one smooth slash high on his shoulder, and he put his hand over hers, silently warning her.

She moved her hand away and went to the waistband of his jeans. Her fingertips traced over his hard belly, following the faint line of hair disappearing behind his jeans. She unbuttoned his fly and dragged the zipper down, finding no underwear beneath. His hard length sprang forth, and she dipped her hands into his open fly, unable to resist cupping and stroking him.

He grunted, a short, deep sound that told her he was more wound up than his expression revealed. “I didn’t give you permission to touch.”

Reluctantly, she pulled her hand back and dropped to her knees to pull off his boots. “I’m sorry, sir.”

He asked her to remove his shoes and his jeans. Then when she stood again, he clamped a hand around her throat, pressing her collar into her skin in a possessive hold. “Apology accepted. On your back, sweet Charlotte.”

She let him guide her down, his hand still on her neck as he climbed onto the bed with her. The sheets were cold against the sensitized skin of her backside, but all she could focus on was the man looming above her and the intoxicating feeling of being beneath his hand.

His hair fell across his forehead as he shifted his weight, planting his palms on each side of her and settling between her open thighs. He rubbed his cock along her still slick folds, sending sparks through her. “You look good with my collar and marks on you, freckles. You like wearing them?”

“I do.” And it was the truth. She didn’t want to study that fact at the moment, but knowing the welts on her back and rope burn on her wrists were his made her feel warm in all the right places—including squarely in her chest.

Fuck, she was in trouble.

Grant rose to his knees and turned, locking both of Charli’s ankles into leather cuffs attached to the footboard, then positioned himself over her again. She tugged at the chains, but he knew there was only enough slack for her to bend her knees. Her body stiffened beneath him as a glimmer of fresh panic went through her.

“Breathe, darlin’.”

She inhaled a few deep breaths, and as her instinctive response gave way, lovely surrender came to the surface. Her pupils dilated and her nipples, red and swollen from the clamps, hardened. God, she was perfect.

He could feel her wet heat pressing against his shaft and his balls tightened with want. She’d said she needed him. His gut had twisted at the plea. Had sent him entertaining the idea of extending this two-week training. She was everything he craved in a sub. Adventurous, feisty, and so fucking responsive it made his head spin. The things he could do with her, the edges they could find together. He could spend hours finding ways to draw that sexy whimper from her.

He glanced at the condom he’d placed on the bedside table, then discarded the thought. The urge to mark her, feel her against him without any barrier, gnawed at him. They’d both been tested and she’d put in her paperwork she was on birth control. “I don’t want anything between us tonight, Charlotte. If that’s not okay, tell me now.”

“Screw condoms.”

He smiled and pinned her arms above her, his palm flattening her forearms to the bed but avoiding her rope-abraded wrists. “You’re so pink and swollen everywhere I could spend hours just nibbling and licking each part of you.”

He bent down and circled the tip of his tongue over her abused nipple. She rewarded him with that sexy mewl of hers, and his cock stiffened to the point of no return. He had to have her. Right. Now. He lifted his head, then buried himself inside her without finesse. Another minute not inside her was a minute too long.

“Oh.” She arched off the bed. The feel of her clenching around him, skin to skin, was almost too much pleasure for his body to compute. Her snug heat wrapped around him like a cashmere glove, drawing him deep. God, he’d forgotten how good that could feel.

He rocked back, sliding out, then sheathing himself again. The slow pace was insanity making, but he wanted to savor it, savor her. He liked feeling her writhe beneath him when he pulled out, as if she couldn’t bear to not have his cock filling her. She tilted her head back, eyes closed, and soft, begging words passed her lips.

He groaned and thrust into her again. Fuck, he loved having her beneath him, hearing her, feeling her. He kept one hand pressed down on her arms and moved his other hand back to her throat. Her eyelids snapped open, but her gaze was unfocused, enraptured. She liked him holding her like that. Her need for real surrender was palpable.