"Easy, killer!"
Elias quickly grabs my forearm, twisting it until I release the blade and it falls onto the concrete patio. "Ouch! Fuck."
"Well, what the fuck did you think was going to happen? What the hell are you doing?! You called me down here to try to stab me?"
"They…they were out here. The door was open."
"There's no one out here, Saige."
"They were! I got some more messages! They were taking pictures of me from the back of the house—through the door."
He shakes his head, pressing his fingers to his temples. "Okay…just get in the fucking house."
Sighing, I go back inside with Arcadia on my heels. This time, I close and lock the door behind me.
"Show me the messages," he says.
"My phone is in the bedroom."
"Okay, and? Go get it."
I turn, and he follows me to the bedroom, both of us stopping when I hear somethingcrunch.
I gasp, my mouth gaping as Elias moves his foot and picks up my headphones, one of the ear cups now dangling by a wire.
"You broke them! I love those headphones, and you squished them with your giant fucking foot!"
He holds them to his ear and shrugs. "They still work."
"I can't wear them like that! You did it on purpose, didn't you?"
"No, but I wish I did. Don't you have bigger fucking problems? They're just headphones."
"That's kind of the point! I have a lot of fucking problems, and Ireallyliked those headphones. They probably don't even make them anymore."
"You think I give a fuck?" he shouts. "You literally broke almost everything I own!"
I blink quickly to hold back tears. I know they're just headphones and that I shouldn't fuck with him, but the texts, the emotions, what I did—it's all too much, and it completely deregulates me. It's pushing me over the edge.
"Ididn't do that! Someone else did it becauseyou'rean asshole. Because you slept with his wife or whatever, which ispretty fucking richcoming from you! I'm sure there are a lot of people who want to break your shit, Elias. And I don't fucking blame them at all! God, I fuckinghateyou."
His jaw ticks. "I warned you about mouthing off to me, Saige."
"I don't—"
Before I can finish the sentence, he drags me into the living room. I struggle against his hold, but I know it's fucking pointless. Elias is enormous; hell, I went after him with a knife just minutes ago, and he disarmed me without even blinking.
"Get off me!"
He sits on the couch, pulling me over his lap. "You don't get to tell me what to do, Saige."
He holds me like that, face-down, while pulling down my shorts and underwear. "Please don't! I'm sorry!" I yell as I struggle against him.
But as I struggle, wriggling on his lap, his dick grows harder beneath me, rubbing right between my legs. I freeze, and he works my shorts down below my cheeks.
"I'll try to go easy on you, Saige," he says, my skin crawling while he rubs his hand over my bare cheeks. "But I want you to remember this for the next time."
He spanks me—once, twice, and then I'm not sure how many times. And it hurts. Tears sting my eyes, and I squeeze them shut, clenching my teeth to stifle my cries. I try to stay still, but I can't—it's not like I'm trying to grind on him; my clit pulses from the pressure, but I'm not getting off on this. I'm not participating. He's the one who got hard.
