My lack of vision made everything more intense: Rohan's cologne, the air conditioning humming over my skin, the scrape of the belt along the base of my spine.

Rohan ran a finger down the side of my neck and along my collarbone. I suppressed a gasp at the contact. He whipped the belt off me, using it to stroke me everywhere: toes, hands, stomach, legs, breasts - mapping my body.

Goosebumps trailed in its wake.

The leather creaked and then the buckle clattered ...