That fury was the only reason I could find to justify my actions. The anger at being so utterly seen, so completely undone, was a shield I could hide behind. The thought of him having his way with me, the forbidden, humiliating thrill of it, was a secret, treacherous whisper in my mind, and it made me wet.
My body, my traitorous, treacherous body, wanted this.
It wanted the pleasure, the pain, the loss of control.
It wantedhim.
I was more furious than I’d ever been in my life. Not at him, but at myself. At the war raging inside me, a battle I was losing with every passing second.
And that, more than anything, was why my hand was raising to slap him again.
My palm connected with his cheek with a loud crack that seemed to echo in the sudden silence of the room. I slapped him not with the intent to injure, but with a force born of my own conflicted emotions. A desperate, final attempt to seize control in a situation where I had none.
A predatory smile spread across his face, the kind that promised a deliciously wicked retribution. His eyes roamed over me, taking in the wild look in my eyes, the rapid rise and fall of my chest.
“Yessss,” he murmured, the words a triumphant rasp. “There’s the fight I was waiting for.”
Then he moved, and the slow, terrifying anticipation shattered into a whirlwind of action. He didn’t waste a single second. He didn’t bother with the leisurely unbuttoning of my pants or the gentle removal of my underwear.
He wanted me naked. He wanted it now. And he was a man who took what he wanted, and I was suddenly the kind of woman that would give him exactly that.
With a rough, impatient tug, he grabbed the waistband of my pants. The fabric strained, the button popping free with a loud snap that sounded like a gunshot in the quiet room. Then, witha single, brutal yank, he dragged them down my hips and thighs, the rough denim scraping against my skin.
My panties followed in the same roughmotion. The delicate, simple cotton was no match for his impatience. The fabric tore with a soft, damning, ripping sound. The cool air of the room hit my skin, and I was naked, completely exposed to this fully clothed stranger. Thisman.
He didn’t give me a moment to feel the shame, to process the vulnerability because his next move was shockingly fast. One moment, he was over me, a heavy, dominating presence. The next, he was standing over me and he had me flipped over, my face pressed into the cool, clean sheets of his bed. It happened so quickly, I had no time to process, no time to react. One of his hands pressed firmly into the small of my back, pinning me in place. The other grabbed a fistful of my hair, tilting my head back and forcing me to arch.
“This,” he said, his voice a growl that vibrated through my entire body, “is for all the anger you won’t let go of.”
Then he let go of my hair and smacked my ass.
It wasn’t a playful tap. It wasn’t a gentle, teasing swat. It was a brutal, open-handed slap against my bare ass. The sound was a sharp, stinging crack that was immediately followed by a white-hot flare of pain that radiated through my entire body. A cry was torn from my throat before I could stop it.
I’d been shotbefore. I’d been stabbed. I had scars that told stories of pain and survival, but this was different. This wasn’t the cold, impersonal pain of a bullet. This was a personal, intimate, and utterly humiliating pain.
This was a grown woman getting her ass spanked by a real man for the first time in her life.
“Let it out,” he stated, his voice a calm rumble that was more terrifying than any shout.
The second spank landed, this one on the other cheek, just as hard, just asruthless.
My body jerked, my muscles tensing in a futile attempt to escape the pain. I bucked against the hand pinning me to the bed, my anger a roaring fire that threatened to consume me whole.
I was a fighter.
I would not be broken.
He would not break me.
“You think this hurts?” I snarled, my voice muffled by the sheets. “I’ve felt worse.”
“I know you have,” he said, his tone infuriatingly reasonable. “But this isn’t about pain, is it?”
Crack!
Another spank, this one harder than the others, the sound echoing in the room like a gunshot.
A yelp escaped me, a pathetic, shameful sound.
