Patrick: A Mafia Love Story by Kit Tunstall, R.E. Saxton

still as he unzipped the exquisite gown to let it fall to her feet. It was too beautiful to risk anything happening to it in a frenzied moment or if they were playing rough. After it was off, she stepped out of the pool of fabric and bent to retrieve it. Patrick watched with hooded eyes as she took the dress and folded it over the chair at the vanity table. Then she came back to him, straightened her shoulders, and met his gaze. “Should I have a safe word?”
    He flashed her a grin. “You’re always safe with me, honey. I’m not going to hurt you.” His hand cupped her breast, his thumb and forefinger fastening around her nipple. He suddenly tugged sharply enough to make her cry out. “Much, anyway.”
    She was still fearful, but staring into his eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to actually, truly be afraid of him or what he had planned. Patrick had done nothing but take care of her since she had become his ward four-and-a-half years ago. He had been good to her, and he was still taking care of her even now. She wasn’t certain she approved of or cared for this aspect of his care, but she was willing to see where it went. “If I say stop…?”
    “No.”
    Why did that simple, stark word make her tremble with desire instead of shudder with fear? “Is this a trust thing?”
    “Yes. I need to trust you, and you need to trust me. You need to trust that I won’t hurt you, and I have your best interests at heart.” He pinched her nipple again, eliciting another sharp cry from her from the discomfort in her nipple, even as a spark of pleasure made her thighs clench around her tingling pussy.
    “What are you going to do?”
    He stared at her for a moment. “Stand there.”
    She forced herself to remain utterly still as Patrick disrobed, standing near enough that she could have reached out to touch his body, but she didn’t. She was doing her best to go along with whatever Patrick wanted from her.
    He didn’t stop taking off his clothes until he wore nothing. She was still in lace-trimmed thigh-highs, pumps, and skimpy panties, but nothing else.
    “Lay on the bed, on your stomach.”
    Nibbling on her bottom lip, she walked the distance to the bed in the high heels, torn between kicking them off or leaving them on. Finally, she decided to keep them on since they were so sexy. Anything that distracted Patrick from his little discipline lesson could only help, right? She sprawled on the bed with a dramatic collapse, until she was lying right in the center on her stomach, head cradled by a pillow, with her arms and legs spread wide.
    “I do love that look.” He moved, the rustle of fabric revealing he was doing something, but she wasn’t certain what. The anticipation was driving her insane, and she assumed it was part of her punishment. Maybe it was even the majority of her punishment, to guess and wonder and fear what was coming next, even as she longed for it.
    “This is a new belt.”
    It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why he was sharing fashion information with her, but the realization filtered through her brain at the same time the first sharp sting of leather against her cheeks shot through her. She yelped her protest and went to turn over, but his hand on the middle of her back, lodged firmly between her shoulder blades, prevented her from moving. “I don’t like this, Patrick.”
    “Who likes punishment, my love?” He ended the question by swatting lightly on her other cheek. She realized his motions were far gentler than she had first assumed. The sting was already fading, and it was the sound more than anything that had given her the impression of true pain for a moment. She had expected it, so she had found it.
    As he struck again, this time in a different spot on her other cheek, she felt the sting again, but it wasn’t terribly painful. In fact, her pussy was suddenly flooded with moisture, and she squirmed on the bed, unable to find relief as he continued to spank her with the leather belt.