Mr. Smith's Whip by Brynn Paulin Read Free Book Online Page A

didn’t want to reveal how integral her role was. Not yet. He didn’t want to scare her, and like her, he wasn’t one to jump the gun. He squeezed her hand. “I’m a planner and backup planner. My family’s pretty staid, but my father taught me to always be prepared. My father and Scouts,” he laughed. “Be prepared and all that.”
    “There are Boy Scouts in England?”
    “They were there first, actually, but they’re called Scouts in UK not Boy Scouts. Both my father and grandfather were in troops. We’re all exceptionally good at knots.” He ran a thumb over her wrist, thinking of what she’d look like with her wrists tied, her face contorted with pleasure and torment as he brought her to the edge of release, over and over.
    “Are they all…” She bit her lip and glanced around. “In the lifestyle?” she whispered.
    He chuckled, amused and delighted by her tentative question. “Not openly. My father is in the parliament so he maintains a high level of decorum. Obviously, I’m not entirely open about it. I keep my private life quite private .” His mood darkened slightly as thoughts of his parents crowded in. They disapproved of his life as an “artist” which was what they considered writing—a pointless dabbling. They’d made that clear, even eschewing his success on the bestseller lists. They’d be heartily displeased when they learned of his decision to remain in the States. Especially his father. Though Colin wasn’t the first son, his father had wanted him to enter the political arena and follow the family’s footsteps. He contended it wasn’t too late for his son to change directions. Colin was uninterested.
    Unwilling to let his family situation shadow the evening, he turned the dinner conversation to popular culture, drawing her into a conversation about music and movies. They soon learned they both enjoyed the same movies, though her tastes tended to lean more to romance and his more to action. Still there was a lot of common ground. To his surprise, Ms.
    Orderly had a hugely eclectic taste in music which surprised him since it was so random. She even liked some of the classic rock he preferred. Again, he was struck with the thought that this was a good pairing.
    As the waiter brought the bill and cleared away their plates, Colin was surprised at how quickly the meal had progressed. Though he was anxious for the next step in their sexual journey, he’d enjoyed simply talking with her. He’d often spoken with women for short periods of time, much like he had as he’d walked Livvy to her car the past weeks, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an actual conversation like tonight—or when he’d even wanted to have one.
    “Ready?” he asked after the bill was settled.
    She nodded quickly. Her teeth sank into her lush lower lip. Such abuse. He had something far better for her to do with her lips…later. Gently, he pulled the abused flesh from beneath her incisors. He tapped the plump bit with his forefinger. “Don’t.”
    “Yes, Sir,” she replied, naturally sensing he’d brought them back into a scene. She dipped her head deferentially and watched him through her lashes as he stood. Her face revealed her torment as she slid from the table and rose. He’d have to be mindful of her ass for the remainder of the evening. He wanted her to remember this first outing for the pleasure not the torture.
    Olivia’s stomach was a mass of butterflies as Colin threaded his fingers through hers and led her up front. The silk of her dress brushed constantly against her abused ass, but she couldn’t say she found it disagreeable. In fact, it seemed inordinately sensual, a reminder of his domination over her body. Did that make her a pain whore or a masochist?
    She glanced at him as they walked to the coat check desk, and found Colin looking at her.
    His gaze was possessive. Owning. Devouring. Right then, in that moment, she was his.
    “I left a small bag earlier,” Colin