Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
FRANCESCA
“Wakey, wakey, Francesca. You’ve been a bad girl.”
The sound startles me from the midst of a dream. I barely have time to register the voice is real—someone’s in my room —then a hand closes around my upper arm, shaking me. My pulse explodes into high gear.
Kincaid flicks the lights on, smirking as I struggle to work out what’s happening, my mind still dazed with sleep.
“I thought I laid the rules out in simple terms, but it appears there’s been a misunderstanding.” Steel fingers grip my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. They’re cold at first glance, devoid of humanity. Then he blinks and they fill with golden-tinged fire. “We’re going to play a quick game and by the end of it, we should be on the same page. Okay?”
No.
Fuck.
I thought he would wait until morning.
I leap to the side, but Kincaid snags my shirt and pushes me back on the bed.
“Let’s start with an easy one. When I give you an order, what do you do?”
“Nothing.” I kick behind me, my heel connecting with his ankle. “I’m not your dog and this isn’t your house. You can’t walk into my room whenever you want.”
“Yet, here I am. Such misplaced confidence.”
He grips my upper arm and hauls me from the bed, setting me on my feet and tugging at his rugby jersey that I’m using as a nightshirt, and I’m appalled he’s caught me wearing it again .
“What’s this, Francesca?” he asks in a mocking voice. “Are you wearing my number to bed, hoping for a grubby dream?”
“I always wear the ugliest clothing to bed. The stuff I’d be ashamed for anyone else to see.”
He wrinkles his nose, smirk widening by the second. “In which case, you won’t mind if I take it back.”
Before I can move, he gathers the hem in both hands, yanking it up and over my head in one smooth motion, discarding it on the floor.
“That’s better.” His gaze fixes to my wide eyes and crawls with agonising slowness down the curve of my neck, along my jutting collarbones before coming to rest on my breasts. “I’ve never seen a prettier pair of tits.”
My nipples tighten at the praise. I want to think it’s because of the cold—and the air is chill enough to see my breath—but watching his hypnotic gaze travel across my body also makes heat pool between my legs.
My self-disgust rises at the same time as my desire and rather than cancelling each other, the two effects grow in tandem, leaving me in a confused mess.
“You look thirsty, Francesca.” He moves forward, crowding me until my head fills with static. “Is there something you want?”
“For you to get out of my house.”
A pinch on my nipple makes me yelp, and his face bends closer to mine, eyes still ablaze. “Try that again.”
“For you to leave me alone until I forget I ever met you.”
He pinches the opposite side, the sharp sting easing into a low-level burn. Even as they throb, recovering, part of me craves the same again, and I put my hands flat on his chest, pushing with all my might. “Get out!”
“You’re the one who wanted me here. It’s your behaviour that earned this wake-up call.”
“I didn’t do anything to you!”
“Yes, you did.” He pushes me against the wall, bending so his mouth is against my ear. “You filled my head until I can’t think straight. This is all down to you.”
He grabs my hand, pressing it against his bulging erection. Even through the thickness of his jeans, I can feel it pulsing.
“Until I can stand to have anyone else touch me, you’ll meet all my needs. Understand?”
“I’m not your sex toy.” I push against him, using all my strength, and can’t move him an inch. Tears spill down my cheeks. Tears of anger. Tears of utter frustration. “This isn’t some fifteenth century fantasy where you’re lord of the manor and I’m a starving peasant who has no choice but to do your bidding.”
He throws back his head and laughs. “That’s exactly what this is. You have nothing. You are nothing. You could call the police right now and I guarantee they’d have more questions for you than they have for me.”
“Because your family’s as fucking psycho as you are!”
“Yes. And what are you going to do about it? Because those tears won’t get you anywhere, cry-baby.”
I throw back my head and scream at him. No words. Absolutely tongue-tied with rage.
In response, he sits on the bed, throwing me across his knees, my bare arse high in the air, and spanks me.
The stinging shock of the first blow hasn’t fully registered before the next one comes, and the next.
“This is what happens when you misbehave,” he growls, the bulge of his erection pulsing against my hip. “Now tell me, what do you do when I send you an order?”
“Go to hell.”
Another stinging slap lands on my arse, the skin heating with pain but that’s not the worst.
The worst thing is the matching heat that ignites low in my belly. A jolt of arousal that pierces to my core until I feel the telltale wetness of my response. My face floods with colour until both sets of cheeks are bright red.
“Try again,” Kincaid orders and his gravelly tone tugs at my centre again, amplifying my reaction. “What do you do when I tell you to get on your knees?”
Embarrassed by my traitorous body, I spit out, “Tell you to fuck off and leave me alone.”
The next blow lands. The sting intensifies.
And so do the rest of my reactions.
Especially when Kincaid changes tactics, smoothing my fiery skin with his palm, caressing in a circular pattern until the pain eases. “Are you really so eager for punishment you want me to keep going?”
I shake my head, halfway broken already and not keen on taking it any farther. The repetitive motion of his hand is nice. Instead of stinging, my skin softens to a dull throb.
“If you’re don’t behave tonight, how can I expect you to do what I need next week? Or next month. Are you going to make me fight you every single time?”
My jaw locks, teeth so tightly clenched I wouldn’t be able to speak if I wanted to. But I force my head to shake, acquiescing to his demands, needing this lesson to be over. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” His laugh is harsher than sandpaper. “Sorry doesn’t cut it, sweetheart. I need to be able to rely on you. To know you’ll be where I tell you to be.”
The anger in his voice isn’t reflected in his posture. His hand shifts position, the soothing motions now moving back and forth instead of in circles.
“But I don’t want this.”
“It’s no longer a choice, Freckles. I already fixed it so you could stay in school and vouched for you with my uncle. It’s only fair you give me something in return.”
“I didn’t ask for your help.”
“But you accepted it, and for that kind of money, I expect you to be nicer to me. If you won’t be my actual girlfriend, store-bought is fine. Just offer me a first-class girlfriend experience.”
I nod, conceding the battle, my internal voices falling silent the longer he caresses me, clenching around his fingers to maximise the effects of his touch.
His fingers brush against my pussy more with every stroke until his finger glides along my seam, increasing pressure until he slips inside, stroking along my folds and discovering for himself how wet I am.
The mortification hits so deep it’s like I’m turning inside-out as he continues to caress me, lightly dipping inside my entrance.
When he lifts and repositions me so I’m straddling his lap, facing him, I don’t even bother to struggle. His hand pulls my head down to his shoulder and when his finger returns to duty, a moan escapes from my throat and he chuckles, the low sound puffing across my ear.
“And I want you to promise me something…” he says, licking his finger clean before reaching inside his jacket pocket. “The next time you need money, you ask me, okay?”
He sets the phone on my bedside cabinet and fastens the ladybug bracelet around my wrist. I blink, staring at the gifts I pawned earlier today. I’m puzzled he isn’t angrier, but most of all, I’m cold. The only way he could know is by tracking me. Another barrier to freedom.
I shift my weight, and he taps his forefinger on my brow. “I’d love to know what’s going on in there, Freckles.”
My jaw aches, tears prickling.
“If you were planning a great escape, please save yourself the bother.” His fingers splay across my skull while the rough pad of his thumb strokes along my cheek. “No matter where you go, I will hunt you and bring you home to be by my side where you belong. You could travel halfway around the world, and I will find you.” He presses a kiss to my temple. “You belong to me, remember?”
His thumb glides over my bottom lip before he reaches forward to suck it into his mouth, releasing it with a soft pop.
“From now on, you’ll use the phone I gave you and keep it turned on throughout the day, is that clear?”
I nod but he taps my head. “Use your words.”
I’m biting my lips but manage to stop long enough to say, “Yes.”
“And what do you do when I text you an order?”
The urge to fight is still inside me but with his rhythmic stroking continuing to flood my body with heat, it becomes less important.
They’re just words.
They don’t have to mean anything.
They’re not tangible like the freezer in the garage or the knife under my pillow.
So, I whisper, “Obey,” and pretend not to feel his cock twitching against my abdomen or the soft sigh of his breath as I give him what he needs… and he does the same. Continuing with his gentle, arousing touch until my breath quickens, my core clenches tight, and my hips tilt, chasing my release.
He undoes his fly, freeing his cock, and rubbing my drenched pussy along his thickening length.
His fingers plunge into my hair, holding my head flush against his chest while his other hand grabs my arse, forcing my spread pussy up and down his cock, riding him while his eyes narrow and his breath grows ever louder in my ear.
I hate the noise. The wet slap of my arousal is humiliating in my ears and yet… I love it too. It massages some sick part of my brain, making me wetter and hotter and closer to the edge with every sound.
His hand clutches me harder, holding me still against his cock while he increases the pressure and it’s what I need, catapulting me into my release, convulsing while the sweet fog of orgasm clouds my brain, dialling down every other emotion.
“You don’t deserve that,” he mutters, pulling me back into motion, making me ride him as he seeks his own climax. “Next time you’re punished, I won’t let you off so lightly.”
The sensation is too much for my sensitive clit, still twitching with the aftermath of orgasm. I push against him with arms like noodles, getting the expected result as he continues to use me, stroking me along his length, his fingertips tightening.
Pinpricks of clarity puncture my hazy afterglow, and instead of fighting, I pull him closer. My fingers close around his straining cock, taking control. “Lie on your back.”
He obeys and I willingly straddle him, slowly lowering myself onto his length, wincing at the tenderness, pushing his hands above his head the same way he did to me.
There’s pleasure again but it barely registers. I’m too intent. Too focused.
Tightening my walls around him, offering the only distraction I can think of at short notice, I reach under the pillow and grip the fruit knife in my clenched fist.
Then I sit upright, raise my hands, and bring the blade down, stabbing with all my might.