He stood over her, his belt in one hand and a drink in the other. Raising his glass to his lips he noticed the ice had melted more than he expected, the large cubes watering down the bourbon. That was probably a good thing, he knew he would hurt her if he lost his head and she wouldn't tell him to stop when she was this far in. This was the sixth weekend in a row she had been to see him and her pale skin showed evidence of his work over the last few visits. He couldn't see her face but knew her right cheek still bore his handprint. He had never backhanded a woman before but there had been many things he had done with her that were new. She brought out something primal that almost frightened him. He took one more sip and placed his glass carefully on the table behind him then raised his arm, aiming for her outer thigh.
She heard the stiff leather hit her skin an instant before she felt it. A sting and then heat spreading through her body. He rarely spoke when they were together and never gave a warning before delivering a blow, but the first was always warning for the next. She sucked in a breath sharply and arched her back. The next strike caught her across the buttocks. A third and fourth followed quickly and she cried out, only to have him push her head down into the cushion of the ottoman she was kneeling over. Once more and then she heard ice clinking on glass as he took a drink.
