Then his hand was gone.
I groaned, pushed back with my hips, and tried to find him again.
What found me instead, was a strip of leather.
I cried out in pain and pleasure, craning my neck to look back over my shoulder. I closed my eyes, the red heat radiating from my ass cheeks, traveling down my thighs.
Frost stood there, his hands tightly gripping the stretch of leather, a cruel set to his jaw. “Count them,” he said. “Count them out loud for me.” He struck me again, this time across the other cheek.
And I cried out again, the sensation almost more than I could bear. “T-t-t-two!”
Again and again he lashed me, leaving strips of heat and pain across my creamy white butt and thighs.
“Three!”
“Four!”
“Five!”
Each time I called out the number, my words were more ragged, more drawn out
