The Bride (The Boss #3) Read Online Abigail Barnette

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Contemporary, Erotic, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Boss Series by Abigail Barnette
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Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
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“Who said you’d pleased me?” He lifted his foot off me and walked around my body in a slow circle. I heard him pause before the drawer we were using as a stand-in for the toy cabinet, but I didn’t dare look up to see what he was getting.

I didn’t know he had the paddle until he dragged the wide leather surface down my back.

“Have you been a good girl?” he asked crouching to trail the top edge of the paddle up and down my spine.

“I don’t know, Sir. Have I been? It’s not my place to make that kind of judgment.”

The paddle swept up and over the curve of my buttocks, before Neil brought it down on his palm with a loud crack. “Right answer.”

His footsteps left the room, and I heard the television click on in the bedroom. The noise would provide cover for us, but the first time he’d ever done that during sex, I’d been furious until he’d explained it. I’d just thought he was stopping to watch TV. It had been one of our funnier arguments.

He came back and rummaged through the toys again, before ordering, “Sit up.”

The moment I lifted my head, a length of dark silk covered my eyes. As he knotted the fabric behind me, I slowed my accelerated breathing and found my center through sheer determination. I was trying to learn to pace myself, to not become over-stimulated or overwhelmed too early in the game. It was a losing battle. With every new order he gave me, my desire intensified. Soon, my need would be unbearable.

“Up.” He helped me to my feet. I swayed a little, disoriented by the loss of a sense, but I could tell he was taking me into the bathroom. As we passed through the door, he guided me to the counter where his-and-her vessel sinks stood on brown Italian marble. He positioned me between them and bent me over the counter, making sure every inch of skin possible touched the cold surface. I whimpered. I couldn’t help it.

“A bit cold?” he asked, one palm gliding over my ass. “Then perhaps this will warm you up a bit. Put your hands on the counter, where I can see them.”

I’d no sooner done it than the paddle hit me, a resounding crack echoing off the stone and glass in the room. I squealed; he usually worked up to the hard ones. I wondered how much worse they’d get, and my pussy clenched in anticipation.

“The telly only covers so much noise, darling. Don’t make me gag you.”

I pressed my lips tightly together, but who was I trying to kid? I was going to end up gagged one way or another tonight.

Another smack of the paddle, just as ferocious, was followed by a gentler one, and a soothing kiss on the wide swath of burning skin left behind.

“Poor dear.” He pressed the paddle against my backside. The leather cooled me, but there was a sadistic undercurrent to comforting me with the instrument of pain. “Marks tonight, or no marks?”

“Marks, please, Sir.” I hadn’t had a truly brutal spanking in a while, and I loved the way my ass looked with big, red welts and purple speckled bruises. If Neil was going away for the weekend, I wanted something to remember him by.

The paddle raised, then fell again with cruel force, and he kept it pressed tight against my flesh to drive the blow deeper into my muscles. I cried out. I couldn’t help it.

His hand fisted in the back of my thong and he jerked it down, the lace scratching like razor blades along my aching skin. He slapped one of my thighs and I stepped obediently out of the leg holes; I knew where those panties were going.

“Open,” he ordered, pushing the scrap of fabric against my mouth. I dropped my jaw, and he forced the panties inside, pushing his fingers to the back of my throat until I choked. The taste of my arousal on the lace brought a renewed pulse to my groin, and my pussy clenched in delicious longing.

“Good girl.” He squeezed my face, and I mumbled a muffled curse through the panties, just to goad him on. That earned me a slapped cheek before he pushed my head back down, and I grinned around the gag and tried to say, “Thank you, Sir.”

This time, when the paddle landed, I was glad to have my cries muffled. There was no way I would have kept quiet enough… Though I doubted Emma and Michael would really hear all the way down the hall, over the noise of two different televisions, I would have been mortified if they had. I’d asked for marks, and Neil gave them to me, blow after blow. He’d learned my body and my limits to perfection, and the moment I thought about asking him to stop, he did so of his own volition.


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