Muse

Chapter 22

twenty-two

. . .

Jordana

When Gavin opened the door, his face lit up.

I wanted to hug him, but my muscles were too tight, my stomach knotted. Instead, I made straight for the black futon in his living room and plopped onto it.

“Wait. You have a futon now. And a rug!” I kicked off my sneakers and rubbed my feet on the earth-toned rug.

Gavin stood by his grandfather’s hawk photo, raking a hand through his hair. “Make yourself at home.”

“I thought you were waiting to get furniture. Why’d you get these now?”

“To rail you on, of course.”

“Of course.” I looked away. “Why else?”

The floor squeaked as Gavin crossed the room. He dropped onto the futon beside me. “Jordana, what’s wrong?”

I couldn’t hide from Gavin. Couldn’t act the pain away.

“Rachel,” I muttered. “She saw the green paint on this shirt and knew it was yours. She said I’m making a mistake.”

Gavin snorted. “Christ, she’s a bloodhound.”

“Also…I ran into Corey on the way here. I— He—”

Finally, I met his eyes. His lean frame bristled, but his face was full of concern.

“I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to be honest with me. Do you only like me because I’m young?”

“What?”

“Is that why you’re attracted to me? Because I’m…needy? Impressionable? You know what I’m saying, Gavin. Do you want me because you can mold me?”

He stared at me. “I couldn’t mold you if I tried. You’re a goddamn force of nature. Where is this coming from?”

I ducked my head. “Corey said you don’t care about me. You’re using me.”

The room went very still. Gavin pressed his lips together, his eyes flaring gold.

“Why would you believe him?” he asked stiffly. “Do you think he’s more trustworthy than I am?”

“No. But…” I gestured to the bookcase, Gavin’s workstation, the art on the walls, the table where I’d written until five in the morning. “Look at this. All of this is too good to be true.”

He scoffed. “My shitty bachelor pad?”

“It feels like a palace to me.”

Gavin froze. Slowly, I lifted my head.

“A palace of possibility. Of…light, and hope, and beauty. Because you’re here. And being here with you? It’s like this perfect rainbow soap bubble that keeps getting bigger. Which means it’s about to pop. Because things like this are too beautiful to last.”

“You really think that?” His voice was low.

I nodded.

“How would you feel if I told you that you’re too good to be true?”

I opened my mouth to protest. He held up a hand.

“You are, Jordana. Even if you refuse to see it. You’re too bright and talented and gorgeous to hang out with a washed-up guy like me.”

“How can you say that? You’re a fucking genius. You’re in your prime. You make boys my age seem like children. Can you accept that?”

He didn’t answer.

We faced each other on the couch. I choked up, reaching out to squeeze his hand. As he traced my knuckles, my voice gathered strength.

“There’s something I need from you.”

His head dipped, waiting.

“Punish me. Please.”

Gavin’s eyes widened.

“That’s tonight’s theme, right?” I pushed.

“To punish the woman in the photograph. Not you, Jordana.”

“But you said no acting. You said this is my journey, and I should be myself. I think we’re past separating reality from art. I need you to really punish me.”

“For what?” he rasped.

“For not believing in myself. Or you. I was wrong, I hurt you, I doubted you…I need to learn my lesson.” I gripped his hand. “I need you to teach me that I’m worth punishing.”

“Jordana,” he began, but I rushed on.

“When I was growing up, no one was around. No one paid attention. My dad tried to keep me from acting, but other than that, I could come in at any hour of the night and no one noticed. I could do anything, use anything, be used by anyone, and as long as I went to school, kept my grades up, and didn’t get arrested, no one cared.

They didn’t care! But you care. Don’t you want to teach me that? ”

“Yes. I do.” Gavin’s voice roughened. “I want to punish you for thinking you’re worth less than you are. I want you to learn how much you matter.”

“I need a real punishment, Gavin. Not just a cute little spanking.”

“What are you asking for? Pain?”

I dipped my head in a quick nod.

“Do you know your limits?”

I shook my head.

Gavin’s chest rose and fell beneath his gray T-shirt. He lifted my chin, making my heart beat quick and jagged. Unlike Corey, Gavin looked deep. He saw me. The Jordana whom he said was beautiful and bright, and the scared, shameful core beneath that.

“Then we’ll find out together.”

He held out his hand. Side by side, we walked to his bedroom.

“Strip.” His voice hardened.

Need bloomed inside me. Hastily, I pulled off Gavin’s flannel shirt, my wide-legged pants, my black bra and panties.

His amber eyes roved over me in cool appraisal. “So eager for what’s coming to you.”

He lifted his camera.

My pulse quickened when he took a picture. I wondered what Gavin would do tonight, how far he’d go to punish me.

How far I’d want him to go.

He took another picture, then sat on the bed and patted his thigh. “Get your ass over my lap. Now.”

Sweet dampness welled up between my legs as I hurried over to him and gingerly lay across his lap.

I’d had my ass slapped plenty of times, but always in the middle of sex. This was different. Focused.

A strong arm pinned down my waist. A warm palm rubbed circles over my cheeks. The position was vulnerable but safe, exposed and held all at once.

“Such a luscious ass,” Gavin mused. “It’s just crying out to be red and smarting. Let’s warm you up, kitten.”

A sharp slap descended on one cheek. I gasped, wriggling at the sting and the heat that spread outward. It was…good. More surprising than painful, followed by a rush of something I couldn’t name.

It felt like love.

A slap lit up my other cheek, and I cried out.

“This is what you’ve needed all along.” Gavin gave me two more quick smacks, making me jump and quiver. “And look how wet these pretty thighs are. Stay there. Legs together.”

His arm lifted from my back, and the camera clicked. He must be keeping his lap out of the frame, or he’d edit himself out later.

And suddenly, I didn’t want that. I didn’t want Gavin out of the picture, offstage, on the sidelines. I wanted him here with me.

His hand struck my ass, hard. I needed that strike, the edge and the definition, the clarity of knowing where I ended and he began.

“Go harder,” I whispered.

His legs tensed beneath me, taut and corded. He ran his hand over my flesh, soothing the sting.

“Look at you. Wet and ready, eager to be punished. You’re here to learn what you deserve. Every punishment you get tonight is because you matter. Because you deserve this attention. You’ve neglected your worth, and you’re going to feel the consequences for that. Understand?”

“Yes!” I shuddered.

“Now tell me what or who made you upset.”

“Corey — He refused to believe I’m done with him.” My face flamed at the confession. “He was begging. He said he needed me and he wasn’t right without me.”

Gavin’s hands clenched on my ass. He grunted a profanity.

“Nothing happened. But I felt guilty, and I hated that I felt guilty… And then a tiny part of me was afraid he was right, that you don’t really care about me…”

“Jordana. Don’t you know that you need to believe in yourself?”

“Sometimes,” I said honestly. “Because of you.”

“Believe harder.” A sharp slap cracked against my ass.

As if Corey had never been mentioned, my need roared back. Gavin spanked me faster, and I squirmed on his hard lap. The ridge of his erection pushed into my hip.

“I’m so ashamed of it all…”

“I know, kitten. I’m going to spank it out of you.”

Gavin kept my waist pinned with his arm. I sobbed at the stinging slaps, not because of the pain — though they hurt — but at the safety of being cared for, punished, by Gavin.

Tears streamed down my face, washing away the shame. His hand landed on my ass again and again, cruel smacks that cleansed me.

Finally, the slaps ended. I lay across his lap, hiccupping, my face resting against the comforter.

His hand worked between my legs, sliding through my folds. I moaned as he nudged my clit, but he pulled back and gave my ass a pat.

“Off my lap, kitten. On your hands and knees. Show the camera how well I take care of you.”

Panting, I slid off his lap. He stood, and I scrambled onto the bed, planting myself on all fours and arching my back. Each flash of the camera — I could feel it, sparking across my glowing ass.

The shoot went on forever. Every time I moved a muscle, I got a smack.

“Hold still,” Gavin ordered coolly. “You can do that, can’t you?”

I gritted my teeth, trying to obey. My whole body was alive with need. My knees shook from holding the position, and my pussy throbbed helplessly.

“I can’t go on like this—”

“You can. This is part of your lesson. To believe in yourself. To learn patience.”

He moved around me like a hawk, snapping pictures.

“You’re cruel,” I sobbed.

He laughed softly. Sweat dampened his dark hair and gray T-shirt, and his eyes glowed with predatory desire. “Yes, I am. Let it all out.”

He took pictures of the tears on my face. God, this was hot and crazy and when he let me release the pose, I collapsed on the bed.

Lowering the camera, he went to the closet and rifled through the boxes on the top shelf, where the rope had come from.

My thighs squeezed together as he pulled out an object. A bouquet of soft leather strips trailed from a black handle, like the wickedest bunch of flowers imaginable.

“Are you going to whip me with that?” My voice was a thin thread.

“That’s the plan,” he said simply.

Our eyes met. He was waiting for me to say no or yes. Fully expecting that I would mean whatever I said.

I shivered under his hungry gaze. I was curious. I was excited. I wanted absolution.

“I’ll…try it.”