Chapter 21
Ibite my lip to keep from giggling as I prop my phone on top of Calvin’s nightstand, angling the camera just right. The little red light blinks at me, my cue that everything is set.
This is a terrible idea. I know it. My subconscious is practically screaming at me to reconsider.
But ever since I found out I was a brat, I’ve been doing research, deep dives on social media, watching videos on all the ways to get under a dom’s skin, how to push just enough to earn a punishment. And today? Today, I’m feeling brave.
Which is why I may have called the concierge downstairs and asked them to text me when Calvin got home. A little heads-up so I could be prepared. And being the enabler he is, the guy sent me a message exactly thirty seconds ago.
Now, my camera is propped up, and I’m settled under the covers, Kindle in hand, pretending to be the picture of innocence. I’m not posting this, obviously, it’s for my personal enjoyment only. I just want to get him riled up.
I hear the distant ding of the elevator, and my stomach does a little excited flip. Show time.
I scroll through the book on my screen, doesn’t matter which one as I’m not actually reading. My ears are tuned to the hallway.
Footsteps.
The door opens.
And even though I don’t look up, I feel him enter the room. The air becomes charged. My fingers tighten around the Kindle to keep from giving myself away.
He walks to the bed where I am, leans down, and kisses my exposed neck. I have to fight a shiver.
“How was your day, beautiful?” he asks, walking toward his closet as he loosens his tie. His voice is smooth, warm like honey.
I don’t answer. My eyes stay fixed on my Kindle, pretending I’m far too engrossed in my book.
He stops halfway to his destination, and I feel him turn back to look at me. There’s a pause. A heavy one. I instantly feel bad because I’ve never ignored him.
“Hello?” he says. I can already hear in his tone that he doesn’t like that I’m ignoring him.
I blink, still pretending to be absorbed in my book.
“Blair.” His tone sharpens. “I know you hear me.”
I sigh, loudly, dramatically, before tilting my head just enough to glance at him over the top of my Kindle. “What, Calvin? Damn.”
His brows lift. Oh, that’s my first warning. It’s confusing because the look he just gave me is terrifying, but my body seems to like it. A lot.
“Wanna try that again?” His voice drops lower. He removes his suit jacket and tie.
Alarm bells ring in my head. Abort mission, abort mission. The look he’s giving me makes my stomach tighten, but I push forward, lifting my chin.
“It’s rude to interrupt someone when they’re reading,” I say, my tone dripping with sass. Even I’m impressed with my nerve.
Calvin tilts his head, his expression unreadable as he glances around the room like he’s searching for something. My stomach clenches. He can’t see the camera, can he?
“What are you looking for?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
His gaze flicks back to mine, slow and assessing. “Your manners,” he muses. “Or, maybe just an ounce of self-preservation.”
I roll my eyes, trying so hard not to laugh at his reaction.
“Look, I just need you to behave today, alright? I don’t have time or the energy for your tantrum.” I wave a dismissive hand.
Silence.
A long, charged silence.
Then, “Excuse me?”
I turn back to my Kindle and just ignore him.
“Oh, I see,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “You’re in a mood for a spanking.” His eyes darken, lips twitching. “Is that it, brat? Or no, that’s not it, that mouth of yours has been feeling empty, hasn’t it? You want me to fill it?”
My body reacts. But I hold my ground, lifting a brow like I’m not seconds away from throwing myself at his feet.
“It’s cute, seeing you try to be in control,” I tease, voice light. “Adorable, even.”
He moves fast for a man of his size.
One second, I’m lounging on the bed, and the next, my Kindle is flying, the sheets ripped away as he grabs my ankles and yanks me down the mattress. I shriek, my hands scrambling, but it’s useless. In a blink, he’s on top of me, one hand wrapped around my throat, forcing me to look up at him.
His voice is dangerously calm. “What was that?”
My bravado crumbles. “I… I was kidding!” I rush out, pointing toward the nightstand. “It was a prank! I’m sorry!”
He glances over his shoulder to where I’m pointing at the camera, and I know the moment he sees it. A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, but the fire in his eyes doesn’t dim. If anything, it intensifies. His grip on my throat doesn’t tighten, but he doesn’t let go, either.
He hums, his thumb stroking lazily over my pulse. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
Then, without warning, he leans down, presses a lingering kiss to my lips, so sweet, so deceptively tender, before pulling away and rising to his feet.
I scramble up and walk to where I had placed the camera, laughing as I shake my head. “Touchy today, Princess.”
I should not have said that.
Because the next second, my camera falls.
And I’m face down on the mattress.
Calvin’s weight presses over me, pinning me down, his breath hot against my ear.
“Oh, Peach,” he says. “Now you’ve done it.”
My breath hitches as he easily slips off my shorts and panties in one fluid motion.
“Safe word?” he growls, his hand sliding over the curve of my ass. Heat pools low in my stomach. I try to squeeze my thighs together for friction, but the way he has me pinned, there’s no chance.
“Cal…” I gasp, reaching back with both hands to grab his.
But he catches my wrists effortlessly, locking them behind my back with one strong hand.
“No, no,” he says mockingly. “Keep that same energy. What were you saying earlier? Hmm?” His lips graze my jaw. “That I’m a princess? That it’s cute seeing me try to be in control?”
The heat between my legs is unbearable now, my body screaming for his touch. I turn my head just enough to catch his gaze. He looks ravenous, like he’s seconds from devouring me.
I flash him the brattiest smile I can manage. “Well… did I lie, princess?”
Something flickers in his eyes, something sharp and dangerous that makes my brain scream run but makes my body throb with anticipation.
“Safe. Word,” he warns again through clenched teeth. “I won’t ask a third time.”
I know if I don’t say it, he’ll still fuck me, leave me a moaning mess. But he won’t spank me until he hears me say my safe word.
And I want it. I want him. I want that delicious burn only his too-big hands can deliver.
“Velvet,” I whisper.
The word barely leaves my lips before his hand comes down hard on my bare ass.
SMACK.
I yelp, my whole body jerking from the impact.
Then another. And another. Each one precise and punishing, the sting blooming across my skin and radiating heat through every nerve ending. I squirm, my cries tumbling out of me.
“Holy fuck, holy fuck,” I whimper. It hurts, a hell of a lot more than I expected. He’s only truly punished me once before when he flogged me in the playroom. Sure, he spanks me during sex, and I thought that was hard. But this is fire.
“Sir, I’m sorry!” I cry out, voice cracking. “I’m sorry, I swear… fuck!”
“Oh, now you’re sorry?” he sneers. “Now you want to behave?”
I whimper, tears stinging my eyes.
He leans in, dragging his tongue along the shell of my ear. “Too fuckin’ late, brat. You wanted to play games? Let’s fucking play.”
Smack.
Smack.
Smack.
Smack.
I sob, clit throbbing, hips grinding uselessly against the sheets. My ass is on fire, each slap painting it in bruised heat, and I fucking love it.
Smack.
“Look at you.”
Smack.
“Squirming, getting turned on just from a spanking.”
Smack.
“Begging with your body even while your mouth talks back.”
Smack.
“Look how pretty your ass turns red for me. Like it was made for this.”
I’m a mess.
Wrists pinned, face down, ass burning, soaked between my thighs. Every slap he lands draws a whimper from my throat, but it’s not just pain, it’s need. It’s craving. My body is trembling, overwhelmed and desperate, and he knows it. He fucking revels in it.
He slides two fingers down between my legs, and I gasp. I’m soaked, embarrassingly so, slick coating his knuckles as he toys with me.
“Fuck. You’re dripping,” he says, like it offends him. “All that mouth, and you’re this wet just from getting put in your place?”
I can’t answer, I’m too far gone, panting, back arching into his hand as he teases me. He pulls his fingers away, and I cry out, a needy, pathetic sound that makes him laugh.
“Oh, you thought you earned it?” he taunts, grabbing my hair and yanking my head back. “Brats don’t get to come.”
He lets go, shoves my face into the mattress again, and I hear the sound of clothes rustling like he just removed his shirt, then I hear the sound of his zipper dragging down. My whole body locks up in anticipation.
“Fuck,” he says. “Look how you come alive just from the sound of my zipper. If you wanted the dick that bad, all you had to do was beg for it.”
He drags the head of his cock through my soaked folds, teasing, taunting. He doesn’t push in. Just lets me feel how close he is. How close I am to either heaven or hell, depending on what I say next.
My brain screams, Don’t say it, Blair. Don’t fucking say it.
But my mouth has other plans.
I let out a snort, cocking a brow over my shoulder like I’m not trembling inside. “I’ve had better.”
It’s official: I’ve completely lost my ever-loving mind. And I know it instantly. The look in his eyes is not just dark. It’s deadly.
“Calvin,” I choke out, panicked, backpedaling.
Too late.
He slams into me with one savage thrust. Although I know it’s impossible that he’s buried to the hilt—he’d have to work me up to that—it sure as hell feels like it.
I scream. The air leaves my lungs. My eyes roll back as he holds me there, impaled on his dick, unmoving for a second that feels like a lifetime.
“Had better?” he snarls.
He pulls out halfway, then slams back in, harder.
I cry out, legs shaking, toes curling.