30. Kim
I t's been three days, and I still refuse to speak to Sam. The silence between us is deafening, but I cling to it. It's the only control I seem to have left.
When I woke up in his bed, saw him there above me, I couldn't muster the words. I was filled with disappointment, anger…and relief. And I didn't know how to handle it.
I still don't.
Between everything that happened with Alexi, Sam locking me in my room, and me getting lost in the woods, I'm all mixed up. I know that I am angry and that our relationship is all wrong, but I still…
I still wanted him in that moment when I got lost in the woods.
I still want him now.
Hunger gnaws at my stomach, but I won’t touch the food he leaves for me. I don't really know if I can trust him, and I learned before he's not above drugging me. Especially when I'm not acting how he wants.
But he’s pulled out all the stops, bringing out all my favorites that he knows should be hard for me to turn away, but each offering feels like a cheap bribe. Some twisted way to earn my trust again, and I won’t give him that satisfaction.
The pain in my body is relentless, a constant reminder of the situation I am in. Sam has been offering me pain medication, prescribed by the nice doctor who made a house call yesterday, but I push it away. I’d rather endure the ache than take anything else from him.
I still have breakfast and dinner with him, but otherwise he gives me my space. I know that Sam is always nearby, watching, but I’m grateful for the silence. I need to fucking think.
Dinner tonight is no different. I sit across from him, hands folded in my lap staring down at my plate. My mind is turning over everything, every little warring thought.
I care about Sam. He kidnapped me. Nothing has ever felt so right as I do when I’m with him. He won't let me go. I don't want to be anywhere else. I should at least have the option.
And around and around it goes. So much so that I can't muster words with the way my thoughts are strangling me.
But Sam breaks the silence first.
“Kim." My eyes snap up before I can stop myself. His eyes study me, and I force myself not to squirm under his gaze. "This is enough. I know you are angry, but you were doing so well here. Stop acting like this."
Subconsciously, I seem to offer a fake cough with a “fuck you” muffled in with it.
I don’t know if it’s from my lack of sleep, or maybe I’m just downright hangry but that flew out of my mouth before I could think better of it.
His head snaps back as his eyes turn a dark sinister shade of grey, and something in him snaps. His frustration grows palpable, the tension between us thicker than ever.
Suddenly he’s out of his chair, and across the room quicker than I anticipated. He grabs me, flipping me over his legs as he takes my seat as his own. Every muscle in my body tenses as he growls, "Why are you being so fucking stubborn? Do you want to risk your life just to spite me? You're acting like a spoiled fucking brat, Kim!"
His words slice through the air, harsh and unforgiving. But still, I don't answer.
I can feel the anger rolling off him in waves now. He wants me to be obedient, and there is a small part — a part he must have really fucked up — that wants to please him. I don't want to punish him when he saved me.
But another part is screaming that I wouldn't need saving if he'd treat me differently. I had to escape. Even though I instantly regretted it, a part of me — larger than I want to admit — has missed him.
I don't know what the fuck I'm thinking anymore.
"I have treated you like a princess because that is what you deserved." His hand roams down my leg, and I fight against him. His other arm pins me in place. "But you clearly need a firmer hand to learn your place." His fingers close around the edge of my dress and he slowly peels it back up my body. "And I am very good at taming a brat if that's what you want to be."
My ass is on full display as he slides the fabric up over my hips, letting it bunch around my waist. I only have a second to wonder what he is doing when the first spank lands, a sharp sting radiating through my body, but something unexpected happens.
Alongside the pain, a strange warmth begins to unfurl deep within me. My breath hitches, a mix of confusion and unexpected arousal emerging. And my body, against my own will, sinks further into him as my teeth dive into my bottom lip to keep me silent.
"Don't you get it? I'm trying to keep you alive!" he continues, his voice laced with anger and desperation. Each successive spank blurs the line between pain and a confusing, growing desire. My skin tingles where his hand meets flesh, and I struggle to comprehend the sensations coursing through me.
He stalls momentarily, and I think he may be finished with his punishment. I still haven't said anything, but now I'm writhing against him for a different reason.
He must notice because then, something shifts. His hand slides down, and his fingers delve between my legs. I shouldn't, but I let them fall open as he slides them through my folds, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me.
I gasp, unable to hold back the sounds escaping my lips. And as he pushes one finger inside of me, making my back bend as he curls it, the other hand lands a smack against my exposed ass.
This time, I can't stop the moan.
The spanking continues, the pain mingling with an unbearable heat building inside me. I can’t believe this is happening, can’t believe my body is responding this way. Each touch, each spank, sends jolts of electricity through me, pushing me closer to a precipice I never expected to reach.
"Look at you, defiant and still so... responsive," he murmurs, almost to himself. His voice is a mix of frustration and something darker, more possessive. His fingers move with expertise, exploring and coaxing, until I’m teetering on the edge.
My breath comes in ragged gasps, my mind a chaotic whirlpool of shame and undeniable pleasure. The world narrows to the sensations he's eliciting, the building pressure that demands release.
“You don’t want to leave me Kim. Just be a good girl and submit.”
There’s nothing more I want to do than inflict as much pain on him as he has me with that fucking comment. But when his fingers plunge so deep and curl just at the right angle to push me over the edge, I cry out, my body trembling with the force of my climax.
"That's my girl," he groans as I clench around him.
For a moment, everything is suspended in that intense, overwhelming release. Then, reality crashes back in, and I’m left panting over his knee, my face heated with a mix of mortification and lingering pleasure.
He lifts me gently until I'm sitting on his lap, his expression unreadable as he looks at me. The tension in the room hasn't dissipated—it has only evolved into something even more complicated.
"Now talk to me," he rumbles, his eyes roaming over my face.
But my head is too jumbled. I am too confused. I want this man more than I have wanted everything, and maybe he didn't pursue me the way most guys would have. But I'm starting to realize that if he would have, he wouldn't have been him.
I care about Sam. I do like the protection, the sense of ease and safety I've felt since he brought me here. I may say I don't have any freedom, but I've never breathed easier than since I've been here.
So he might have kidnapped me. He might have locked me in rooms and made me bend to him. But he's right about one thing.
I'm his.
And he had to make me see that.
Or I never would have gotten past my own life. I would have ran far from him, always keeping to myself, and knowing what I do now, it would have been a colossal mistake.
I'm not sure I even regret any of it.
And with that confusing swirl of emotion and thought, with the way his eyes watch me, his hands expertly roam my body in comfort, the way I fit so perfectly next to him, and this all feels so right…
I know there is only one thing I need right now. And I finally talk to him for the first time in days.
"Fuck me."