Damon wished more than anything that he had ordered Elena to strip. He wanted to see the way her breasts crushed against the black leather of the bench, and the flush crept up her back.
"That's my girl," he rasped out. "Just let it go."
He wanted to hear her, every cry and every whimper. Not wanting to spoil her, Damon returned to the heavy blows across Elena's ass, the strike made sharper by the wetness of his hand.