Chapter 23
AMELIA
Two months later.
Christmas break.
The words should have a nice ring to them, but this year, it doesn’t feel much like Christmas. I have no real family to visit, and on top of that, I’m stuck working on a project for Mr. Adams, due the moment we’re back from winter break. Leave it to him to ruin even the magic of Christmas.
I tried decorating parts of the mansion, even putting up a nice tree—one that Blade punched a guy for calling ugly—but the holiday spirit just hasn’t hit me yet.
It’s getting chillier in Albuquerque, the early mornings especially have begun to bite. We’re pretty far south, so it’s mainly a subtle chill, but some days tights are my best friend as I wear them under my outfits. I refuse to give up my skirts and dresses yet—they’ll have to be pried from my cold, dead hands.
I still can’t wrap my head around Skye’s sudden disappearance. Yeah, we had a fight but I didn’t think she’d up and leave the entire school. She even left behind some of her favorite trinkets, ones she always kept out and never let anyone touch. I went to the Dean’s office, but he couldn’t tell me anything other than she dropped out.
On the bright side, Frankie and I have been getting closer, and she’s always there for me when I start to miss Skye or have other problems. It’s like she has an innate ability to sense when I need her the most. She’s really an angel on earth. But at the back of my mind, I can’t help but think… what if she leaves me like Skye did?
Tonight, we’re in Frankie’s room at her father’s house, getting ready for the annual Christmas charity ball John hosts. The room is a flurry of dresses thrown around, shoes tossed to the side, and of course Frankie’s stuffed animals here and there. The girl can’t live without those.
I’ve finally settled on a beautiful dark green dress that reminds me of the lush pine trees we have surrounding the college. I often get fashion inspiration from nature.
My phone vibrates on the dresser—a text from Blade. It’s a selfie from the guest bathroom downstairs, he’s wearing a form-fitting black shirt and a pair of grey boxers that leave nothing to the imagination. His print is showing, and even covered in the fabric, it’s freaking huge. His thigh tattoo peaks out too. I bite my lip, tilting my head as I study the picture.
Damn.
Blade: I’m about to start getting dressed. Send me a picture of what you’re wearing
I step in front of Frankie’s full-length mirror, strike a pose, and snap a picture to send. About three minutes later, he texts back.
Blade: Fuck, you’re beautiful. I just palmed my cock and came to that picture
My mouth drops wide open.
Blade: You’re wearing green?
Me: Yes, it’s Christmas?
Blade: Hmm, put on a pink dress instead. Send me a picture so I can match
My eyebrows knit together. I groan in frustration, hurling my phone onto the bed.
The sudden outburst startles Frankie, making her jump in surprise. She pauses, brush in hand, and glances over at me from her seat at the vanity where she’s been applying makeup. “You scared me, girl. What’s wrong?”
“Mr. Control Freak wants me to wear pink tonight. On any other day, that would be great. But it’s a Christmas party — everyone will be in either green or red, I’m sure. I’ll stick out like a sore thumb. And I hate drawing attention to myself in a crowd. He’s so…” Irritating, but hot while he’s doing it.
“Ew, screw him for trying to tell you what to wear,” she says, wrinkling her nose in distaste.
“Frankie, Asher tells you what to wear all the time.”
“Oh, yeah…” she admits, looking sheepish for a moment. Then she brightens up again and waves her hand dismissively. “But anyway, that’s not the point. How about you just keep that dress on? You look great in that one. It’s that simple.” She picks up her mascara wand.
“But…” I bite the corner of my lip.
Frankie gives me a pointed look. “You don’t have to listen to every single thing he says, you know? He’s not a prison warden or something.”
“That’s hypocritical coming from you. When Asher kissed you goodbye, he told you to let your hair down because he likes it that way, and unless I’ve taken drugs and I’m hallucinating, your hair is down this very second.”
“We’re not talking about me right now. And I like my hair down too.”
“I kind of… want to listen to him, though.”
She shakes her head. “How we’re best friends when we’re the exact opposite, I’ll never know.”
“What? You don’t like—”
“No, I like it. But I like being a raging brat and giving him a headache about it first. That’s where all the fun is.”
I laugh and sit on the bed. “That does sound like you. But, you’re not worried about the… repercussions?”
You’d think this stuff would be easier to talk about with your best friend, especially one who lives the same life, but I’m squeamish getting the words out. I didn’t have the courage to outright say spanking .
She shrugs nonchalantly. “Think of it this way—if you get in trouble, that’ll last, what? Ten minutes? Ten minutes of trouble for a whole night of doing what you want seems like a good trade-off to me.”
I sigh, rubbing my temples. Maybe she has a point. I’ve never thought about it that way.
Okay, I’m going to keep on the dark green dress. Even though my body is desperately trying to tell me to change.
···
His intense eyes bore into me from across the ballroom, peeking over the cup of tea he’s taking slow sips of. I know it’s tea because he hates alcohol, for some vague reason he gave me about his dad, so he uses tea in social settings to look like he’s drinking whiskey. There are dozens of people here, including Frankie beside me, but he’s all I can focus on. His icy stare is making me want to melt into a puddle on the ground.
Even though my heart races under his disapproving gaze, I can’t help but take in how gorgeous he looks in a suit. Why does he always have to look so damn hot, no matter what he’s wearing, no matter what time of day it is?
I turn my head, trying with all my strength to focus on anything but him. The ballroom is adorned with grand decor—twinkling lights, red flower centerpieces, a decked-out tree that must be at least twelve feet tall. Before I know it, Blade is beside me, his looming presence commanding my attention, and I can’t ignore him anymore.
He takes my right hand in his. “You look…” He draws in a breath, then releases it slowly, his pupils dilating like a match about to strike. “Damn, words can’t even begin to describe how stunning you look.” With his fingers still locked onto mine, he effortlessly twirls me in a circle.
I bite my lip to conceal a smile. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to his flood of compliments or the way he looks at me—like he wants to set me on fire just to watch me burn for him.
Then his voice darkens, dipping into a low, dangerous rumble. “But it’s not what I told you to wear, Amelia.”
“I know. I wore this so I wouldn’t stick out.” I gesture around the room, showing that everyone else is wearing red and green, except a few people.
“The whole point is sticking out, but sticking out with me. You see the details of my suit—pink. Meaning you were to put on pink, and everyone here would know from first glance that you’re with me and not bother you.”
I glance at what he’s wearing. I was so busy checking him out that I didn’t even notice he has on a pink tie and a little pink napkin in the suit pocket.
“She can wear this if she wants!” Of course, Frankie adds her two cents in. At least she’s sticking up for me.
Blade narrows his eyes at her for a few seconds before pulling out his phone and putting it on speaker. “Frankie’s here, and you would not believe what she’s doing with some other guy, Ash.”
“Liar!” Frankie yells before putting her glass down and running off. “Now I have to go hide!”
I hold back a laugh as Blade hangs up, but the amusement runs out when I’m back facing his cold expression—alone now, with no backup.
“Go change. I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Can I just keep this—”
“No.”
“But I—”
“ No, Amelia .”
I’m a little taken aback by the way he growls my name. He drops my hand that he was holding and starts to walk away, expecting me to go change.
Well, he’ll be expecting for a long time, because I’m not changing.
I huff and plant my feet firmly on the ground, refusing to move an inch. I’ve come this far, might as well see it through, right? “No.”
He stops in his tracks, his boots scuffing against the floor as he turns back, eyes narrowing in on me. He nods and chuckles, almost to himself, before tilting his head. Damn his intimidating head tilt. “Not changing, huh?”
“Isn’t the necklace enough?” I ask.
“No, it’s not. Not with the elite here.”
What kind of explanation is that? Like I even know what an elite is, or how it works.
“If you don’t start moving in one second to go change, I’m going to move you myself.”
“I—”
I don’t even get a chance to finish before he grabs my arm and practically drags me out of the ballroom. A few guests take notice, their curious eyes following our movements. So much for not drawing attention to myself.
I didn’t expect him to do anything during the party. At the most, I expected some kind of reaction after we’d already gotten home. And maybe… I kind of wanted that reaction. But not right here, right now.
“You need to understand something, Amelia.” After the door to the guest room slams shut, he reaches into his slacks, and suddenly, the metal of his knife gleams in his grip.
Before I can process what’s happening, he turns me around, the sound of fabric tearing as he slices through the dress. A sharp gasp escapes my lips as the cool air hits my exposed skin. He pushes me forward, bending me over the bed, the heat of his body pressing against me. “You belong to me. So if I tell you to wear a certain color dress signifying that you’re mine, that’s what you’re going to do,” he rasps.
He puts the knife away, and I hear him unbuckling his belt. I gulp. But I don’t feel fear exactly, I feel… excitement? The good kind of rush. But also a little nervous.
The leather grazes along my skin as he lightly taps the belt against my ass. Seemingly on its own, my body jerks upright, a surge of adrenaline rushing through me. Only for him to immediately clamp his hand down on the back of my neck, forcefully shoving me back onto the bed.
“If you get up again, I’m adding ten more,” he threatens, and a chill goes down my spine at the confirmation that he’s going to use the belt.
“O-okay, I’ll go change.”
“Oh, you’re gonna do that, anyway. After I’m done with you.”
My breath catches in my throat.
“You know what I think? I think deep down you wanted this punishment.” He trails the belt over my thighs softly, the buckles chiming in the air. “That’s why you didn’t listen—on purpose. You wanted me to punish you.”
He doubles the belt in his hand and brings it down across my backside. The sharp sting makes me gasp, burying my head in the bed.
Slap.
“Ahh!” I yell, tears immediately pricking at the corner of my eyes. The pain is on a completely different level from when he used his hand those other times.
Three sharp slaps land in a flash, each one hurting more than the last, giving me no time to brace myself for the next. The covers muffle most of my cries. It’s a good thing because we’re not too far away from the party.
Another slap.
I feel the sting lingering, searing in a way that leaves me breathless. “Pl—easeee! It hurts!” I want to put my hand back, but I know that would only make it worse. So instead, I grip the sheets as if they’re my last lifeline.
“You should’ve thought about that before,” his raspy voice taunts as he rubs over my burning ass.
I did think about that. But when Frankie said ten minutes of trouble was worth it, it made sense at the time. She didn’t tell me the belt would hurt this much. I’m never listening to her again. If she wants to get in trouble all the time, she’ll have to do it on her—ah!
Another crack sounds in the air before the belt lands down piercingly—twice. By this time, my ass is on fire , and I’m sobbing uncontrollably. Pain radiates through my entire backside, but I also feel an aching throb between my legs.
I can’t believe I’m getting turned on by this, and even getting wet from it. I guess I can believe it. I get turned on by sick things. The knife, the spankings, the control—all of it.
“I’ll make this the last one,” he reassures me. But when the final blow lands, it strikes down hard on my upper thigh, the pain so sharp and sudden it steals the breath from my lungs. The agony ripples through me like a tidal wave, and I have to clamp my hand over my mouth, stifling the scream that threatens to break free.
The belt drops to the floor, and my shoulders slump with relief.
Blade’s hand moves to rub my ass, his touch soothing against the tender skin. His other hand weaves into my hair, massaging my scalp. It feels nice. The relaxing sensations slowly unravel the tension inside me, calming the sobs that shake my body.
When I’m no longer crying, his hand glides down, tracing my spine before they slip into my panties. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he groans, desire thick in his voice. He presses himself against me, and I can feel the unmistakable hardness of his growing cock poking against my ass.