“Three, f-four, five, six.” I grab onto the shelves with a death grip. My nails dig into the metal as sweat trickles down my back.
My pretty purple dress is all crumpled and squashed by his overwhelming ruthlessness, but that’s the least of my worries.
Tears sting my eyes, and it’s not only because of the pain.
Tchaikovsky almighty. I really hope it’s only due to the throbbing of my assaulted ass.
My thighs clench and my core aches, pulsating with an animalistic need. When he slaps me three times in a row again, I rock forward, bumping my clit against the shelf below.
Bursts of pleasure knot the base of my stomach and I close my eyes, my voice turning deeper, erotic. “Seven, eight, nine.”
My breaths form condensation on the metal and I welcome the small reprieve and the break from pain.
He slaps my ass, and I haven’t even finished whispering "Ten” when he shoves my thighs apart in one motion. His fingers dig into my skull and he yanks me back with his grip on my hair, forcing my eyes to shoot open.
The back of my head rests on his hard chest as he whispers in my ear with chill-inducing intensity, “You haven’t earned the right to come.”
I twist my head the slightest bit, and for the first time since he started his ‘punishment,’ I’m able to see his face.
And I’m not ready for the scene.
It’s like I’m looking at an entirely different person. His breaths are ragged, causing his chest to inflate and deflate in a rapid rhythm that still simmers with calm, and his face—damn his stone-cold face that’s caught in eternal blankness and oozes control to the brim.
His eyes, however, tell a completely different story. Yes, there’s that display of dominance, sadism even, but they’re masking something a lot deeper.
An emotion a lot darker.
And I wish I could reach inside him and tug those emotions out. Even if that means I’d get swooped up in the process.
My assaulted ass rubs against his jeans and I whimper, both at the pain and the expression on his face.
Though the first has dimmed compared to the throbbing between my legs.
His jaw clenches and his eyes flash to my parted lips. “I thought pain scared you, so how come you get off on it?”
I try to shake my head, but it’s impossible with his grip on my hair.
“I can smell your arousal. It’s permeating the fucking air.” His fingers spread against my panties. “When did you become this soaking wet, hmm? Was it before or after I spanked your little arse? Maybe during? Did you get turned on by the thought of being owned by me? Did you picture my cock tearing through your cunt until you screamed and choked on my name?”
My lips part.
Holy. Shit.
Who thought the quiet Creighton had such a dirty mouth? It’s almost like I’m meeting another version of him.
One whose every secret I want to unwrap and flounder in every splash of its darkness.
My hips rock against his hand, basically dry humping him, and he doesn’t remove it. Instead, his fingers push my panties to the side and glide against my folds.
His voice lowers against my earlobe. “Now is the time to beg.”
My heart nearly jumps in my throat as I murmur, “Please.”
“Please what? Say the whole sentence.”
Damn it. I’ve never spoken such vulgar words out loud, but I don’t really have a choice now.
He has me completely at his mercy.
“P-please make me come.”
His jaw tics once, twice, and then he shoves two fingers inside me. I reel from the pressure as it mounts and mounts until I’m unable to breathe.
The stimulation from earlier rushes to the surface and I reach a hand out and grab onto his side, my nails sinking in his shirt.
“Hand down,” he orders in a frigid voice, and I let go. My arms lie limp at my sides as a knot forms in my chest.
His thumb teases my clit with staggering expertise. He’s not only dominant, but he also knows exactly what he’s doing and how. I’ve used a few toys and my fingers before, but none of them compare to the wild intensity that’s shaking my limbs.
Pleasure bursts through me all at once and I have no hope to last. My raw moans overlap with the music as I fall apart around his fingers.
The wave submerges me and the pulsing welts on my ass elongate the pleasure, making it more potent.
By the time I come down from it, Creighton is staring at me with that suffocating darkness again.
That need for more.
More.
And more.
At this point, I’m not sure I can stop him from taking what he wants.
Hell, maybe I’ll even enjoy it.
His lashes lower, blocking his emotions, as he slides his fingers out and steps back. My legs wobble and I use the shelves as an anchor to remain standing.
My harsh breathing fills the storage room and it’s only then I realize someone could’ve walked in and seen the entire unorthodox scene.
Shit.
Creighton shoves a hand in his jeans pocket and glares at me, and the look is enough to make me shiver.
What’s wrong with him now? He looks even more tense than when he walked into the storage room.
And he’s suppressing something again. What, I don’t know.
“Defy me again and this punishment will look like child’s play in comparison to what I’ll do to you.”
9
ANNIKA
It’s a miracle that I manage to reach the dorm without having an accident.
I haven’t been able to focus on anything except for the throbbing pain in my ass, the clenching of my thighs in remembrance, and the tightening in my chest.
Something must be wrong with me.
Seriously wrong.
Because I can’t help replaying what happened in the storage room over and over until I choke on the carnal memories.
Until my heart threatens to burst and my head fills with all sorts of depraved theories.
And images.
His hand on my ass, his fingers inside me, my hair at his mercy. My whole body homed in on his ruthless dominance.
I’ve always thought I would be the type who likes respectful sex, the ‘can we do it tonight’ sex, the ‘we’ll have a date, then eat and touch each other in the dark’ type.
So what if I somehow ended up watching hardcore porn once or twice—okay, maybe a few times. That was only curiosity, a fantasy, and had nothing to do with my real-life preferences.
But those preferences and every single perception I had about myself have been shattered to pieces in a single encounter with Creighton.
He reached inside and yanked out a part of me I didn’t even know existed. It was hidden right beneath the surface, waiting for a natural disaster of Creighton’s caliber to finally show itself.
I tiptoe inside the apartment I share with the girls, then stop just past the threshold. Why do I need to sneak around as if I’m doing something wrong?
Truth is, a sense of corruption reeks from my every pore, not to mention that I’m a little bit filthy in the best ways possible.
“Anni!”
I jump slightly, then school my reaction and smile as Ava waltzes in my direction, holding something in her hand.
“Someone dropped this in the mailbox with your name on it. Do you think it’s poison?”