Then came the distinctive snick of a switchblade snapping open. My instincts screamed at me to run, but I gritted my teeth and didn’t move a muscle. Mr. Stonewood trailed a finger along my collarbone for a moment before sliding his finger under the strap of my dress on my left shoulder.
“This dress looks delectable on you, darling, but I’m afraid it’s in my way.”
The strap tugged taut and the sound of a blade ripping through silk assaulted my ears. A choked, disbelieving sound ripped out of me on instinct, and Ben chuckled, low and dark, as he moved to the other side and cut the other strap.
“Quiet, darling. You’re doing well so far. Keep still for me just a little longer.”
He tugged the bodice out just enough to slice a two-inch line right down the middle of it. I heard the clatter of him setting the knife down on the nightstand and let out a small sigh of relief just in time for him to grip the bodice on either side of the cut and rip it in half with his bare hands.
I let out a startled shriek before I could think better of it as he moved down the length of the dress, shredding it clean in two and shoving the tatters to the floor.
“That dress probably cost more than two months of rent at my apartment, and you just destroyed it like it was nothing!” I snapped the words before I could think better of them.
“I paid for it, and I’ll destroy it if I want to,” he drawled. “And just look at you, baby. You were hidingthisunder that pretty green silk? Hiding this from me should be classified as a war crime.”
He traced a finger over the edge of the cup of my red lace bra and groaned. The air kissed my skin like a dare.
I snorted, glad that he couldn’t see me rolling my eyes behind the blindfold.
“I’msoglad you approve, sir.”
I don’t know what possessed me, but I couldn’t keep the dry sarcasm out of my voice.
“Turn around and bend over, Eighteen.”
“I beg your fucking pardon?”
“It’s time for your punishment. We’ll add sarcasm and insolence to the list of your other infractions.”
Fucking asshole, I thought, even as I reached out my hands and spun around, feeling blindly for the edge of the bed. There were a thousand clapbacks on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them.Remember, Chrissy, you have seven hundred and fifty thousand reasons to keep your mouth shut.
With an impatient sound, he gripped the nape of my neck and guided me until I was bent over, my cheek pressed against the crisp, cool duvet cover, leaving my ass exposed to him.
“I hope you like the view, sir,” I taunted in a sickly-sweet tone, wondering just what the sight of me in such a skimpy red lace thong was doing to him.
That earned me a vicious slap on my right ass cheek, and then he bent over, pressing his chest against my back as he leaned down to whisper in my ear.
“I’m going to give you the luxury of choosing what tool I use to deliver your punishment with, little doll,” he purred.
“Eat me,” I hissed, loathing the patronizing condescension in his tone.
He barked out a startled laugh.
“Only if you take your licks like a good girl, darling. Now, would you prefer me to use a paddle, a flogger, a cane, or my hand to punish you with?”
I gritted my teeth.
“Your hand, sir.”
He went very still, his chest rising and falling against my back with a slow, deep breath.
“Why my hand, Miss Jones?”
I huffed out a humorless laugh.
“If you’re going to punish me, I want you to feel it, too. You don’t get to distance yourself from this, sir. I want it to hurt your hand just as much as it hurts my ass.”
“I had no idea you were so petty and vindictive, but I must admit it’s a surprising turn-on for me.”
