Wilde Nights (The Brothers of Wilde, Nevada 4)

Page 12

But what about Austin? Would he ever want someone like her? Not if she couldn’t let even angels watch her while Sir train—
Sir’s open hand hit her bottom, delivering a sting. Her legs jerked, and hot pain jolted her from her thoughts. Unable to move her head enough to see Sir, she looked at Jackson, Phoenix, and Dallas. Their sinful stares were fixed on her.
“You’ve drifted off from me, sub.” Sir kneaded her ass. “That displeases me.”
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
“I need you out of that head of yours. I want you to feel. To really feel. Let go, sugar.”
Another slap. Her arms and legs jerked from the impact of his hand, and a burn seared her backside.
“What do you think, Master Dallas? The round paddle?” Sir asked.
Outside the club, Denver would only refer to his brothers by name or nickname. Inside, she’d learned, things were more formal and had a protocol. Once you left the reception area, the game was on. Titles were to be upheld. There was a sensibility that Jessie liked about—
Wham! Her bottom burned.
“Stay with me, love. Too much in your head.”
She took a deep breath to steady herself and to hold back the looming tears. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
“Master Denver, I think the eight-inch round paddle would do nicely on her pretty little ass.” Dallas’s voice was deep and lusty, thrilling her down to her toes.
Sir came into her view, walking in front of the bench. He went to the table, and she watched him select the paddle Dallas had described. Her heart jackhammered inside her chest, and she feared what was about to come…but she also craved it. She was in her head, like Sir had said she was, analyzing everything and everyone. Too much. She wanted rest and release from her spinning thoughts.
Sir came back and bent down. He placed the paddle in front of her face. “See this.”
Jessie nodded.
“Kiss it.”
She did. It was made of some type of rubber material and felt a bit cool on her lips.
“This is going to send you to a space of absolute arousal, love.”
Meekly, she asked, “Sir, how many times will you strike me with it?”
He laughed. “Just enough, sugar. No more. No less. Leave the count to me.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Sir went out of her peripheral sight. She bit her lip, anticipating what was about to hit her flesh. It didn’t come. Instead, she felt his lips kissing the small of her back. She relaxed and let out a long sigh. Then the whack of the paddle hit her ass. The sting went clear into her clit. Another slap. And another. Sir never hit the same spot on her twice. Every inch of her bottom stung and ached, yet strangely, each smack made her body hotter, her mind softer, and her pussy wetter. Another blow sent her to the moon and back. Her body arched off the flatness of the bench, and instinctively she ground her clit into the bench’s hardness.
Then the paddle stopped coming down on her ass.
“Jackson, is this woman yours?” Sir asked.
“Yes. She’s mine.”
“Come up here, take this paddle, and give her three strokes on her gorgeous ass.”
Jackson came up to the stage. He stroked her hair. “You look so beautiful, darlin’.”
The next instant she felt three quick strikes, softer than the ones Sir had delivered but still with a nice sting.