“Explain.” Cruel to demand this of her when she’s obviously embarrassed, but I don’t care. I am cruel when I want to be. Right now is one of those times.
“It hurts.” She draws in a shuddering breath, her fingers spasming on the couch cushion. “But it’s made my skin feel like it’s on fire, and I can feel my heartbeat in my pussy.”
“Mmm.” Many people have this response to spanking, but I can take nothing for granted. “Do you want me to stop?”
“I…” She buries her face in the cushion, and I almost miss her reply. “No, Mistress.”
A fucking delight.
I give her clit a sweet little stroke and then go back to spanking her. She’s too new to take it much farther than I already have, but I enjoy the cries she makes. Just like I enjoy the heat in Alaric’s gaze as he watches us. I give Zurielle’s ass one last squeeze and turn to lean against the arm of the couch next to her. I crook my finger at Alaric. “Come here, lover.”
Zurielle starts to sit up, but I place my hand on the space between her shoulder blades. “Hold still.”
She tenses but manages to stay silent. Good girl. This is a different kind of punishment, one that I plan to enjoy just as much as the first.
Alaric gives me a questioning look and, when I nod, lifts my dress. He peppers kisses up my thighs and then his mouth is on my pussy. He growls against my flesh, the dirty boy. I hold Zurielle down as Alaric licks me. It feels so strangely right to have both of them here, both of them catering to my whims, taking care of both of their needs. I dig the fingers of my free hand into Alaric’s hair and guide him up to my clit. “Make me come. You can take your time later.”
He makes another growling sound but obeys, licking and sucking me the way I like. I’m already halfway there from playing with Zurielle, and it takes only a few minutes before my breath catches and I grind against Alaric’s mouth as my orgasm crashes over me. I let him keep kissing my pussy, enjoying how much he enjoys this. He might be selfish when it comes to having his needs met and pretending not to be guilt-ridden the rest of the time, but when Alaric is on his knees, he gives himself over to being mine entirely. It never stops being a heady feeling.
I nudge Alaric back and fix my dress. “Go get her purse.” I don’t watch him to ensure he obeys. He will. I turn my attention to Zurielle and help her stand. She weaves a bit on her feet, and I catch her elbow. “I have plans for you, little Zurielle, but one thing has to happen first.”
She blinks those big brown eyes at me and opens her mouth, no doubt to pepper me with questions, but remembers herself at last moment and closes it.
Alaric returns to the living room with Zurielle’s purse in his hands. It’s just as small and cute as she is—and expensive. I nod. “Her phone.”
Zurielle tenses as Alaric digs through her purse. I can’t help being amused at how confused he seems when he comes up with item after item—tampons and gum and power bars—from the small space. “Fuck, how much shit can you pack in here?”
I give her a look. “Cis men are always so baffled at the hauling capabilities of purses.”
Zurielle gives a little laugh and presses her hands to her mouth like she’s surprised at her response. Alaric finally finds the phone and hands it over. I almost hate to wipe her laughter away, but this week isn’t all fun and games and fucking.
“Call your father.”
“What?”
I arch an eyebrow. “I spoke clearly enough.” I press the phone into her hands. “Call your father, Zurielle. I’m sure he’s beside himself with worry about his favorite daughter being missing.”
Mutiny shines on her face. “You want to use me to hurt him.”
“That’s not a secret, darling.” I lean closer. She smells like sex, and it takes more restraint than I anticipate not to drag my mouth over her shoulder and up to her neck. “Do you think he’s not looking for you? Imagine how many powerful people he’ll make enemies of in the process. He’ll endanger himself if he thinks he can bring you home. You don’t want that, do you?”
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s also not a lie. You know how your father operates.” No matter how naive she is, how sheltered, she can’t avoid that truth. Triton is a rabid dragon of a man, hoarding the few things he cares about in this world and breathing fire at anyone who gets too close. Surely she’s smelled the fire, seen the ash.
Zurielle can’t quite meet my gaze. “Yes. I know how he operates.” Her eyes skate to Alaric. He must have told her at least part of the truth, then. Good. Alaric doesn’t talk to enough people about what brought him to the Underworld. It’s ironic in the extreme that the one time he wasn’t being selfish to a fault is the time that his actions bit him in the ass hard enough to derail his life. I’m glad for it.
It brought him to me, after all.
I walk to the couch and motion to it. “Sit down and call your father. That’s not a suggestion; it’s a command.”
She hesitates but finally nods. “Yes, Mistress.” Zurielle walks to the couch and, after the briefest hesitation, sinks onto it. She barely flinches when I join her on one side and Alaric does the same on the other.
Zurielle takes a deep breath as if to brace herself and clicks her father’s contact. The volume is loud enough to hear it ring from this close, and a deep voice answer. She swallows hard. “Hi, Daddy.”
Chapter 17
Zurielle
There’s a reason I didn’t find the time to call home those two days I was in the Underworld before the auction. And I certainly had no intention of doing it now. Too bad I don’t have a choice.
My father’s voice in my ear is usually a comfort. He’s larger than life in a completely different way from Ursa. They both dominate a room, but my father has been the cornerstone of my life. My protector. Sometimes my jailor. The one who lifted me up, but then ensured I didn’t fly too far.
If Alaric is to be believed, he’s also a very bad man who does very bad things.
I wish I could call Alaric a liar, could dismiss his story out of hand. I can’t. There’s too many little things that line up with what he’s said, things that I’ve ignored until this point. Things I can’t afford to ignore any longer.
And the longer I’m outside of his house, the better I can breathe. Surely that’s not normal? I have no doubt my father loves me, but love isn’t supposed to constrict around a person until they can’t manage a full inhale. It’s not supposed to feel like a trap around your leg.
Right?
“Zuri? Are you okay? I’ve been worried sick.”
I open my mouth to assure my father that I’m fine, but that’s not what comes out. “Do you kill people, Daddy? I know that you oversee stolen goods and drugs. Do you oversee human trafficking, too? How deep does the rot go?”
He’s silent for several beats, his breathing coming down the line. “Where are you? It’s time for you to come home.”
Anger flares. It’s not solely directed at him. A healthy chunk is aimed directly at me, at my willful ignorance. There were so many times over the years when I could have asked questions, could have pushed against the boundaries he built up around me, but I was content to be a bird in a cage. Spoiled to an absurd degree, but trapped all the same. Trapped. He kept me all but locked up, yes, but I didn’t challenge him once. Not until I met Alaric. Not until I left Olympus.