“I really love reading Ashley and Tom’s story. I have enjoyed reading all of Ms. Barker’s books so far. The sex is great. But what I enjoy most is the depth of the characters. I love sexy stories but I also like a good story plot and Ms. Barker delivers both.”
… and check out the reviews on Goodreads
Meanwhile, here’s a scorching snippet from Surefire.
“Ten more, then we’re done. I want you to continue counting and I’ll wait for you to say the number before each stroke. Ready to carry on?”
My slight nod is enough and the eleventh stroke lands on the back of my right thigh. That’s a sensitive spot for me, so this really hurts, and I know I won’t be sitting comfortably for at least two days. Maybe more.
“Eleven. Christ, Tom…”
“Just count, or you can thank me if you want to. Nothing else.”
The next strike lands on my left thigh, and I gasp the number. “Twelve.” I can’t bring myself to ask for more, or to thank him for his efforts.
He chuckles, well aware that I’m struggling now, his punishment is having the desired effect. I know he’s watching me carefully though, and whether I safe word or not, he’ll stop if he has to. I absolutely trust him to do that, so I relax into the blanket, my eyes closed and my teeth gritted, and I ready myself for the next blow. And the next, and the next.
We’ve reached fifteen, and I’m regretting not asking him to tie me to the bale. It’s a real struggle to remain on my feet. Tom peels back the edge of the blanket to reveal the hay beneath and helps me to curl my fingers around the rope stretched tightly around the whole thing, holding it all together.
A few seconds go by then number sixteen lands across my upper left thigh, right at the crease where it joins the lower curve of my bottom. I know my buttocks and the backs of my legs must be covered in deep red stripes, and without doubt this lesson is one I will never forget. I manage to whisper the number, and tighten my vice-like grip on the rope to stop myself from sliding off the bale. Just four more. That’s not much, surely I can manage that.
I might think so, but Tom has other ideas.
“Enough. We’re done here.” He drops the belt onto the floor and reaches for me. He turns me carefully, wrapping the blanket around me before he lifts me in his arms and strides out of the barn. I’m not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. I really thought I could complete the twenty, but I hurt like crazy now, everywhere, and I’m glad Tom called a halt.
He carries me inside and straight upstairs, placing me face down on our bed.
I sigh. “Yes, that sounds wonderful.” Every muscle is aching, my body feels to be on fire, I hurt in places I never even knew I had, but I feel utterly contented. Cared for. Loved.
And there’s no doubt at all in my mind regarding where my home is.