THIRTY-EIGHT
The moment my foot shifted forward, his eyes darkened.
He waited until I closed the distance, his presence swallowing the space between us, suffocating me in his heat, his scent.
A rough hand shot out, wrapping around my throat. Just a firm, unyielding claim. My lips parted, breath stuttering as he angled my chin up.
‘You’ve been hiding things,’ he murmured. His thumb brushed the sensitive skin just beneath my jaw, pressing lightly against my pulse. ‘You want to play a bad girl?’
Heat flared through me, humiliation and desire tangled so tightly I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
Then, with a slow, measured force, he guided me downwards. My knees hit the floor.
My throat worked on a swallow, my pulse hammering against his palm still curled around my neck. Heat in my core flared hard and sharp, like a fuse lighting up before short-circuiting.
‘Are you going to ask for forgiveness?’ His grip tightened, just enough to steal my breath.
My nails bit into my thighs, sharp crescents branding my skin as every muscle coiled, strung between defiance and surrender.
‘No,’ I said finally, my voice barely more than a rasp. Not a real refusal – just the rejection of yielding first.
His fingers lingered a beat longer, pressing into my throat as if savouring the fragility of it, then he let go.
Cool air rushed in where his touch had been, but the reprieve was fleeting.
With painful slowness, he unfastened his belt. The sound of leather slipping free sent a delicious shiver down my spine.
He wound it around his hand, letting me hold my breath, letting me anticipate. Then, Unhurriedly, he draped it around my neck, the smooth leather settling against the base of it like a claim.
And he pulled.
The belt cinched just enough to remind me who was in control, enough to make each breath count.
‘I’m going to strip every last lie from that sweet mouth,’ he murmured darkly. His knuckles grazed my jaw, deceptively gentle. ‘You’ll take it like the good girl I know you can be. You’ll take me deep into your throat. You’ll choke on me. You’ll cry for me. And when I’m done, what will you do?’
A wickedness curled in my stomach. His words from a past encounter came rushing back, the echo of them pressing against my lips before I could stop them.
‘Swallow every last drop of you.’
His eyes glazed, approval weaving through the predatory gleam.
‘I didn’t lie,’ I said – though I wasn’t sure if I was still defending the truth… or daring him to show me what that glint in his eyes meant.
The line on his face remained taut, but something in the air shifted into desperate hunger.
‘Open your fucking mouth.’
I did.
The belt stayed snug, a tether, a silent demand.
His fingers twisted into my hair, a firm hold that sent a sharp sting rippling across my scalp, as I watched him undo his jeans and release himself.
Heavy and thick, it hung between us like a threat. Flushed. Veined… There was no mercy in the way he gripped the base – as if he knew exactly how ruin should feel like.
‘Take it,’ he murmured, guiding the tip over my tongue, the salt of his skin igniting every nerve. ‘Breathe through it.’ Like a dark melody, his voice wound through me as his own breath turned unsteady.
Need threatened to consume me when I yielded, letting the tension between us draw tighter, letting him take from me – inch by inch, breath by breath.
A guttural sound rumbled from his chest.
‘Relax your jaw.’ He sucked in a breath. ‘Good.’ His grip on the belt stayed firm, unwavering. ‘But you can do better.’
He pulled back just enough to let me gasp, only to press forward again, deeper this time, his invasion moving past my tongue as his molten eyes watched every moment of the exchange. I loved the heat in his gaze, I loved the way he barely held it together.
‘I want to feel your throat pulsing around me, little angel,’ he murmured.
Pleasure and power bled into pain and surrender.
My body tensed, but the belt stayed firm, holding me right where he wanted me. Right where I wanted to be. Watching him. Observing as he came undone in my mouth.
‘I want to see you choke on me,’ he growled with a shadow of desperation.
I closed my eyes, struggling to catch my breath as he penetrated deeper, hitting the wall at the back of my throat.
A sharp tug. The leather bit into my throat, and I shuddered.
‘Look at me, Paula. Fucking… look at me while you suck me off!’ The tone was raw, frayed and laced with a hunger strong enough to consume us both.
I lifted my gaze, blinking away the moisture that spilt over my cheeks, which he so gently wiped with his thumb. ‘That’s it. Give me your tears.’
I met the inferno in his amber eyes.
‘You going to lie to me again?’
The belt flexed in his grasp, a silent threat, a warning. His fingers twisted deeper into my hair, a delicious sting racing across my scalp. He held me there, the uneven undulation of his chest the only sign that his control – so ironclad, so absolute – was almost gone.
And then, without waiting for an answer, he drove the lesson home.
A sharp thrust.
My throat clenched, a gasp cut off before it could form. Tears pricked my lashes, blurring the shadows away.
I was trapped between his grip, the belt, and the sheer force of him. My breath came ragged, broken, my body trembling from the weight of his command. Every nerve ending burned, stretching tight between resistance and surrender. And I was so soaked for him, so ready. So hungry for him.
My nails curled into the fabric of his trousers with the next thrust, digging deep, a silent plea – or maybe a challenge. My mind was not my own any more.
He let out a sound that wasn’t unlike a beast’s, and it owned me.
‘Come on…’ The words dragged from him, bitten off between clenched teeth, heavy with strain, with something perilously close to release.
The belt flexed again. My pulse leapt beneath it.
After a few delicious, agonising strokes, he pulled back, leaving me gasping, my lips swollen, my throat raw, tears spilling over me in streams. Air flooded my lungs, but the reprieve was cruelly brief.
His hand slid to my jaw, fingers pressing just enough to tilt my head back, forcing me to face him.
My gaze travelled past his straining cock, up the shirt that tightened around his pectorals and to his angular jaw. Hunger devoured me whole, something ruthless passing in the depths of his stare.
‘Did I say you could touch me?’ he whispered.
The answer hovered on my tongue, but I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to give it – or make him take it.
My lips parted, but no words came. Silence fell over us, feeding the fire in him.
A sharp yank of the belt. My world tilted as he pulled me upright, his grip still firm.
My balance wavered, but he was already moving, driving me backwards until the cold, solid wall bit into my spine.
The impact stole my breath, but there was no space, no time to recover before his hands were on me.
The sound of fabric tearing sent heat rushing through me. My dress crumpled beneath his grip, discarded without a second thought. His fingers dragged lower, slipping under my bra, a swift motion that left me bare beneath the cool air and the furnace of his stare.
Cain rumbled – a sound that had my knees clenching, my pulse skipping. Everything shrank away until only he remained.
His hand slid lower, fingers slipping beneath my waistband, teasing the edge of my lace with maddening intent.
I surrendered to my vices – I leaned in and kissed him.
Mistake.
He lifted me, spinning me in his grasp until my chest met the wall.
A sharp gasp slipped from my lips as his fingers hooked beneath my underwear again, the slow, drag of fabric down my thighs licking up my spine.
His knuckles grazed my skin, setting my body ablaze and keeping me suspended between shame and anticipation.
He moved behind me, his heat a brand against my back. Then his hand shifted quickly. My heart stuttered as he brought my underwear to his face, inhaling deeply. A low, sinful groan rumbled from him, his cheek leaning against mine.
‘Beg for forgiveness.’
I pressed my lips together, a silent – final – act of defiance. His smirk grew wicked. He had expected it.
‘Open that mouth, Paula.’ A silken order.
A tremor ran through me, my thighs pressing together again, but I obeyed. He stuffed the damp fabric between my lips, pressing it down with two fingers.
‘Since you’re so talkative,’ he murmured, ‘I won’t be offering reprieve any more.’
A muffled whimper escaped through the silk barrier, my eyes going wide. Cain exhaled sharply, his fingers grazing my cheek before his thumb traced my chin.
The belt uncoiled from my throat, slipping from my skin like a serpent shedding its hold.
He wrapped the leather around his fist, his gaze raking over me where I stood bare, shaking, pinned between his body and the wall. Waiting.
His hands hooked at my waist, dragging me flush against him, lifting me with one single hand.
Something electric ripped through me as I felt him poised at the edge of something inevitable and ruinous.
And then he took me – deep, all-consuming.
We both groaned at the sensation as his cock slipped past my slickness, my walls, finally reaching that unbearable point of collision.
He held me tight with one hand.
With the other?
A sharp crack.
The belt landed against my thigh, a sudden, searing rush of heat that sent a jolt through me.
I scraped at the wall, my nails burning, my body caught between the cold surface and his body as pleasure spider-webbed up my spine.
My breath came hard, uneven, anticipation twisting deep as the leather slid over me, trailing a slow, measured path across my bare back, my hip. A warning. A promise.
‘That’s one,’ he said, thrusting into me so hard the stars behind my lids scattered, ‘for the lies.’
Then—
Fire.
The second spank stole the breath from my lungs and I yelped, my cry muffled by the underwear, a raw burn spreading across my skin. The belt left a tingling imprint that vibrated through me, my skin pebbling with it.