“You still bring me to my knees, Mrs. Falke.” He rested his lips against mine, nipping with unholy intentions.

Every day, he thrilled me, scared me, and punished me in new and exciting ways. He was still a practicing Catholic, still went to church every Sunday, and when he returned from Mass, he still fucked me like a heathen.

But our days of desecrating the altar of his church were over, and I mourned that loss.

I glanced out the window and found the soaring skyscrapers of Manhattan glittering around us.

“We’re going to your hotel?” I widened my eyes. “Is that safe?”

He owned a wealth of luxury real estate. If someone were going to attack us, they would look for us in the penthouse of his Manhattan property. It was our home away from home.

“We’re not hiding.” He dipped a hand between my legs and caressed me through the panties. “But we’re going to be safe about it. I trust the security in the hotel more than any other in the world.” He yanked the gusset of fabric aside and penetrated me with a long finger and a vibrating groan. “So fucking wet, thinking about my collar.”

His hot mouth descended, latching onto my lips. With one hand working between my legs, his other roved my spine, my ribs, and the shape of my breasts.

The shoulder straps fell, exposing my chest, and his hungry gaze followed, soaking me in.

My body heated. Shudders gripped my thighs, and impatience rocked my hips into a frantic rhythm.

“Always so horny.” He pinched my swollen nipple, tweaking it ruthlessly. “So goddamn beautiful. You have no idea the lengths I will go for you.”

Then his hands were everywhere, stroking and teasing as I panted and squirmed. My legs widened shamelessly, and I bore down on his rock-hard erection, smearing wetness all over the expensive fabric of his tuxedo.

I didn’t care that I would leave a stain. I didn’t care that the driver could hear us. I was wild with need, feeding on his hissing breaths and begging him to open his fly and give us what we both needed.

When he didn’t, I reached between us and tackled his zipper myself.

A fiery blast slammed across my backside, making me yelp.

“You’re not in charge.” He caught my waist, lifted me higher, and spanked me again. And again.

I choked, gasping through the shocking pain, my hands grappling him around the neck as the punishment stole my breath.

His palm came down again, only this time, it landed softly, sensually, gliding across my welted flesh and melting my bones with white-hot bliss.

Good lord, he was good at this. A master at balancing pain and pleasure. I could come just from his discipline.