Read Online Crash for Me (The Blankenships Book 7) by Evelyn Glass - Free Book Online Page B

again, but he didn’t hit her this time. Instead, the buckle touched her spine, up between her shoulders, and then dragged down the bumps of her spine. It scraped, just a little, and she let herself twist with it, small hissing sounds dragged out of her mouth by the sensation tracing down her body. She heard the leather dragging through Leo’s hand as he doubled it again, and she relaxed this time before the blow landed on her thighs.
     
    She groaned with it, suddenly conscious of the weight of her small tits as her nipples pointed softly towards the floor. Her hips shifted again, but not trying to get away from the blow this time, her ass tilting up towards him, wantonly begging for more. More strikes, more fullness, more anything. “Oh, yes,” Leo whispered behind her, his hand cupping the curve of her ass, teasing at the crease of her thigh, one single fingertip running up the curve of her cunt, then delivering a light slap on her ass again. “I see why he enjoys you. You’re not just trying to make him happy. You really do love this.”
     
    She was almost too far away to answer. “Yes,” she whispered. “It feels like sunshine.” It wasn’t what she would have said if she’d planned it out, but it felt true. Leo gave a little chuckle behind her.
     
    “Maybe it does,” he said, and this time, the belt smacked into her breasts. He’d shortened the belt substantially, and the blow was much lighter than the others had been, but the intimacy of the strike made her cry out. She went back up onto her tip toes, fighting the pain for a moment before she could relax back into it. Every time she managed to relax back into the purity of the sensation, without judgment or fear, she found that it took away just a little bit more of the guilt and hurt and misery that had torn her up since the night Claire died. They would be there, later—she’d learned that over the past few weeks, there was no easy short cut through the grief—but they would be easier to pick up after the respite.
     
    She felt her mind drift into what Alex had called subspace, where she was aware of what was happening to her body, but not involved in it. Leo checked in with her every few moments, making sure that she hadn’t gone too far, that she was still there with him, paying enough attention to her body to tell him if something hurt too much. And he was kind, gentle with the belt, taking just enough to push her along that soft edge towards the purest sort of light.
     
    She heard Alex’s voice in the room, and she turned her head ever so slightly in his direction. Leo hit her harder, then, hard enough to make her yip. “You’re still mine,” he grumbled. “I haven’t given you back yet.”
     
    “Yes,” she murmured, “yes, sir. I’m so sorry, sir.”
     
    She heard Alex’s rough groan as the bed shifted under her. She realized that her eyes were closed, that she had shut them who knew how long ago to block out the visual input and focus on the sharp sensations that were happening in her body. The blows from Leo slowed slightly, and she made a whimpering sound, not at pain, but at the cessation. And then she felt something below her, the kind of odd awareness that always made her want to believe in auras. She didn’t open her eyes, and nothing touched her arm, but she knew that someone was below her. Which didn’t make any sense, her back was stretched flat, her arms extended to grip the foot board, why would someone be below her?
     
    And then warm, wet heat enveloped the tips of her breast, suckling almost viciously at her. Her cunt was already a burning coal of wet heat between her thighs, but this—this was so much more. She cried out as Leo whipped her ass again, her hips bucking into the air, desperate for anything, any kind of contact to ground her. She had one spare moment to think of how she must look, frantically fucking the air, and then the pleasure somehow twisted into a moment more intense than orgasm, too big for