Chapter 35
Iwait in the common space for what feels like an eternity.
Some part of me thinks if something happens they will come tell me.
But I know I’ve removed myself entirely from this situation, and I’m most likely not even remotely on their radar anymore.
When I get too antsy to stand here waiting like a fool any longer, I storm off to my bedroom.
I slam the door closed, pacing the short length of the hardwood floor as I run a hand through my cropped hair. It’s not the girl I’m worried about. I did what I could and gave them the supplies they needed to fix her. Not that I’d care either way. If they let her die now, it’s on them.
But I saw Sterling. Couldn’t help but note the panic in his eyes and the tremors in his hands.
He’s slipping back into a dark place. All because of this fucking girl.
And it's taking everything in me to not try and fix it. To let him walk away and go back to his female’s side.
Instead of demand he submit beneath my touch while I beat those dark thoughts from his mind.
I need a fucking cigarette.
I shove the chair at my desk backwards in desperate need, digging through the top of the desk for a spare pack of smokes, before moving onto the drawers.
I get more aggravated the longer it takes me to find them, and before I know it, I’m ripping a drawer from the desk and dumping the contents out on the top.
I exhale roughly as I find the pack I’m looking for, tossing the empty drawer to the side and plucking a cigarette from it. I light it immediately, inhaling the smoke and letting the tobacco and nicotine seep into me, possessing me fully as my eyes flutter closed.
“Am I interrupting something?” A hesitant voice calls from the doorway.
I whip around to find Sterling standing there like a hurt puppy.
His eyes are downcast, cutting tentative glances up at me through lowered lashes.
His usually tawny skin is drained of color and he’s wringing his hands in front of him in an effort to stop the shaking.
“What do you want?” I say. But the words come out too hard, full of bitter irritation at the sight of how much she’s gotten to him.
He flinches, taking a step back.
I take a drag off the cigarette, letting the hit settle my nerves before I speak again. “I’m sorry, Sterling. Please, come in.”
He crumbles as he steps into the room once more, shaking his hands out as he paces nervously. I slide past the path he’s wearing into the floor to close the door behind him.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, leaning against the closed door and bringing the cigarette to my mouth. He doesn’t answer, just continues to pace and mutter to himself. “Sterling,” I growl, the only warning he will get to not ignore me.
He falls apart, tears streaming down his face as he drops onto the bed. “I don’t know, Zeke. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just can’t—I don’t—” He sucks down shallow, hollow breaths.
“Sterling,” I snap. “Where are my eyes?”
His gaze finds mine immediately and his breathing regulates the smallest bit.
“She was so pale, Ezekiel. So close to death, I thought—” A sob cuts through his words. He shakes his head. “I can’t get the image of it out of my mind, can’t help thinking what would have happened if we’d lost her.”
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. As if the entire world revolves around one female’s existence. “But she’s not, right? She’s good now?” I ask. I know she is, or he would be even more of a mess than this.
“Yes.” Sterling nods. “No thanks to me,” he adds under his breath. He drops his head into his hands again, trying to cover the emotion wrought in his features as more tears stain his cheeks. His voice is near silent, weak and desperate when he speaks again. “Help me.”
I narrow my eyes on him, my jaw feathering from the force with which I’m clenching it.
Because I know he wouldn’t use those words unless it was really that bad.
Unless he felt mere heartbeats away from coming apart completely.
“Sterling,” I call out in a deep rumble, letting every bit of my power seep into my words. “Do me a favor.”
He looks up at me, brows furrowed as he wipes away his tears. I pluck the cigarette out of my mouth and use it to point towards the desk drawer discarded on the floor. “Go get that drawer and put it back in my desk.”
He follows where I point, looking back at me with an air of confusion.
But he obeys, rising slowly from the bed and scooping up the drawer.
He slides it back in place on its tracks, sorting through the items on the top of the desk and putting things away.
Once the mess is cleaned up, he slides the drawer closed and turns around to face me.
“Good. Now go in the next drawer and grab that little burlap bag that’s in there.”
Again, Sterling’s brow furrows, but he doesn’t argue. He turns back to the desk, rooting around in the lower drawer till he pulls out the sack.
I’d forgotten I’d even had such a thing. It was a gift from Laurel last Esbat, a mixture of rice and herbs and small crystal chips that she said was meant to bring good fortune. If I hadn’t just torn my desk apart, I probably wouldn’t have even remembered I had it.
He holds it up for me to see, as if to make sure it’s the right thing. I sit down on the side of the bed, nodding and gesturing for him to join me. He makes his way through the room, moving to sit next to me. But I catch his wrist, shaking my head slowly as he looks down at me.
“Not here,” I chide. I gesture down to the spot on the floor just before me. “Open that bag and dump its contents on the floor.”
Sterling must understand finally where this is going because he hesitates for a moment.
But he does as I say and pulls the draw strings on the bag open.
Slowly, he turns it over and lets the grains of rice inside fall to the ground.
The sound of them falling is the only noise for several, glorious moments, and we don’t take our eyes off of each other until the bag is empty and every last grain has hit the floor.
The corner of my lips twitch as he watches me, waiting for his next command. “Very good, Sterling. Now . . . take off your pants and get on your knees.”
Sterling breathes in deeply, finally hearing the command he’s been waiting for.
He undoes his belt, taking his time to guide his zipper down.
He steps out effortlessly, holding his jeans as well as his boxers out to the side and dropping them in a dramatic show.
Then, he sinks, slowly, to the ground. I tilt my head as I watch him shift to the edge of the rice in an attempt to angle himself off the sharp grains.
I lunge forward, snatching him up by his T-shirt and dragging him forward till he’s right in the middle of the pile.
“Now, now, Sterling. We mustn't go easy on ourselves. Right?” I whisper in his ear. “After all, the punishment must fit the crime. And you’ve not gone easy on yourself—in here.” I tap his temple and he squeezes his eyes shut.
“You’re right." He bows his head. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.” I sneer. “But you will be.”
I drop my hold on his shirt, letting his weight sink fully onto the bed of rice. He winces, biting down on his lip to stifle the noise.
“How did you even have this in here?” he asks, incredulously.
“A good dom is always prepared,” I quip, settling back on the bed. “But we aren’t here to talk about me. Are we?”
Sterling, still bowing, shakes his head slowly.
“Now I want you to stay there while I read. Until you feel compelled to change the way you're currently thinking. Understood?”
“Yes, Ezekiel.” There’s no hesitation in his voice, but another tear streams down his flushed cheek.
I sigh in disapproval. I can already tell he’s going to be stubborn today.
I scoot back on the bed, leaning against the headboard and pulling a book off my nightstand.
I open the book to the spot I’d last left off, letting my eyes skim over the text, but I’m incapable of retaining anything.
All I can focus on, all I can think about, is how still and obedient Sterling is being, as he kneels on the rice beside my bed. And how incredibly hard I am while he does it.
The subtle glow behind the blackout curtains lets me know that the sun has long since risen. And I can tell by the exhaustion in Sterling’s eyes that he needs to sleep. And yet he hasn’t broken.
Sterling stays stock-still, even after an hour of torment. The only shift in his position is when he starts to nod off, jerking his head up before falling over completely.
I slam my book shut with a resounding thud. “Sterling, when are you going to put an end to this?”
I’m no stranger to the torment he enjoys putting himself through. This isn’t our first time in such a session. And honestly, I’m going easy on him. But I fear pushing him harder, given his current state.
Sterling stiffens his upper lip, raising his head and puffing out his chest. As if to show he has no plans of stopping.
“Fuck this,” I growl. I throw the book on the bed, jumping to the ground and shoving him down. “You want me to go harder on you, then I will.” I wrap my hand around his throat, lowering myself to him and kissing him hard.
Just as he’s letting himself sink into the kiss, I push him away, shoving his face down into the rice and laying him out on the ground before me. “You want degradation? I’ll make you feel degraded. I’ll chew you up and spit you out for acting this way.”
I undo my jeans with one hand, reaching my other between his thighs until I find his balls and tug. Hard. He cries out, the noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper.
“But only me, do you understand that? I will not allow you to degrade yourself like this. And I will not be a participant in your wallowing in self-pity.”