Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 101872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Fuckity fuck.
Her back was really fucked now.
“Don’t be doing that,” he told her quietly.
“Doing what?” she asked, just as quietly. “Unbuckling my belt?”
Hmm. Look at them. Both managing to lower the decibels of their voices for once.
“That too, since it obviously hurt you. I haven’t forgotten about your back.”
Lucky her.
“Don’t call yourself names. I said I wouldn’t put up with you calling yourself a whore and I’m not going to put up with you calling yourself a bitch. And there ain’t nothing wrong with wanting to shut down your brain for a few hours.”
“Yeah, well, I couldn’t even manage that. Screwed it up like everything else.”
“You know if you want a spanking, you just have to ask,” he said mildly. “I’m happy to oblige. Nothing I like more than spanking a sub’s ass. But that sub doesn’t actually have to brat if she’s wanting a spanking. All she has to do is ask nicely.”
“You . . . you . . . what?” she squeaked.
“No one’s told you about me? About what I like at the club?”
“I’ve never even seen you at the club,” she told him honestly.
“No, I haven’t been in a while. I’m a sadist.”
She jerked in surprise and then groaned.
Why the hell did she do that?
Before she could muster up the breath to protest, he had her belt across her and buckled in.
“Right. That’s it.” He started up the truck again.
What was what?
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Where are we going?”
He was backing out of the driveway, and he was doing that really sexy thing where he put his hand on the back of her seat so he could turn and look where he was going.
Lord.
Fuck.
Hot.
What was wrong with her?
“Taking you to the doctor,” he replied.
“Uh, no, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“The clinic isn’t even open! It’s the early hours of the morning.”
“Good point. Luckily, I know where Jenna lives.”
“You’re going to take me to her house?” she cried.
“Yep.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because you’re in pain and I don’t like it. There’s a lot of things I don’t like, Opal. And that is right up at the top of the list.”
“How long is this list?” she asked curiously.
Damn it, Opal.
Focus.
But she couldn’t help but wonder . . . like, if it was five items long being on the top of the list wouldn’t be a big deal. But if there were twenty things on it . . .
“Last count? A hundred and eighty-three.”
“You have a hundred and eighty-three things that you don’t like?” she asked.
“Yep.”
“Is there anything you do like?”
“Sure.”
“Like what?” she asked.
“Your smile.”
Oh. Hell.
That sucker punch was a good one even though it stole her breath.
She had to force herself to focus back on what was happening.
“I don’t want to go to the doctor, Renard. I really don’t want to go to Jenna’s house and wake her up. Especially when this isn’t an emergency. It’s just a sore back. I don’t need to see the doctor.”
“Don’t like you being in pain.”
“Pretty sure Jenna doesn’t have an instant fix. And it will probably feel a lot better if I get some heat on it and lay down, which I can’t do if you’re lugging me all the way across town.”
He grunted.
She wasn’t sure if that was agreement or not, but then he drew the truck over and did a U-turn.
“Thank you,” she told him. There was a long pause. “Soo, you like causing people pain?”
“I enjoy the control. I like giving people what they need. There’s a number of people that go to Saxon’s especially to see me. Men and women who want some pain, who need it. I’m not a damn therapist. I’m a guy who’s good with a whip and a paddle and who likes to cause pain. But only to someone who wants it. I hate tears any other time. You should know that for future reference.”
“Um, are you telling me not to cry?” she asked.
“Unless it’s during a scene, yes.”
“Pretty sure that you can’t just tell someone not to cry,” she told him. “And I’m not really a crier, but I’m willing to bet that there will be instances where I cry in the future.”
“Not liking that at all,” he grumbled.
Okay.
Why did she now feel like smiling? It felt like she was going through a full gamut of emotions.
But the petulance in his voice over the idea of her crying . . . except when she was in a scene . . . yeah, it was making her grin.
“You can’t control everything, you know,” she pointed out gently.
“I don’t know. I think I can try.”
A giggle escaped her.
“Why are you laughing?”
“It’s just . . . you sound so put out over the idea of me in tears.”
“I just don’t want you to be upset.”
Okay.
That was sweet.
He just kept surprising her.
“Unless you’re causing the tears,” she said huskily.