“And you,” he says, pointing a finger in my face as he steps closer, making me sick to my stomach.
And also a little turned on. Maybe a lot turned on.
“You know fucking better than that, Liam.” The way he says it is so intense that it actually makes me laugh nervously. Maybe not the best move because he grabs me by the collar, just like he did to Harry.
“You better start using your brain. We’re stuck here today, but tomorrow, you're fucked. I’m going to punish your ass.”
“No way,” I manage, even if I'm shaking.
“Way. I will, because first, you deserve it. Second, it’s my revenge. I’m in trouble because of you. And third, I’m sick of us both not speaking. You KNOW I didn’t rat you to hurt you. Then you go there and pull this shit with Harry? Are youfucking kidding me? And you expect me to allow this to happen? You must be out of your damn fucking mind, because I won’t let you ruin your life, one way or the other, and if I have toforceyou to speak to me, I will.”
“I don’t want to get you in trouble, believe me. I feel awful about what happened. I'm sorry,” I say, meaning every word.
He still glares at me and replies: “That’s not enough. If it were, you would have thought twice before doing it. You heard Griff. I’m not doing my job right. So get ready.” When he says that, my face turns so red and, well, other parts of me are so not helping the situation that there is no hiding it anymore.
He drops me and heads to his bed, grabbing a book. He’s still angry, still breathing hard, but now he’s pretending nothing happened. My breathing is heavy and labored, my cock twitches painfully, and I can't think straight: when I try to think, all my thoughts come mumbled together.
Eventually, Jack and Harry start talking about other stuff, acting normal. But I can’t stop thinking about what Ethan might do to me tomorrow.
Later that night, I don’t sleep right. Keep waking up because my stomach is fucking on fire with nerves. I wonder if they'd give me some antacid tablets if I screamed and cried loud enough. But I don't move, just lie there staring at the wooden slats supporting the top bunk. Jack snores quietly on the bed beside me.
We have to wake up at dawn and follow the whole routine, like every day, roll call with a guard, breakfast. But then, on Sundays, we’re free for the morning. Not me, though. Ethan gets me in the hallway, right after breakfast, and says, “Come with me.”
I want to protest. I want to say he can’t punish me. I want to run and throw a tantrum, I don’t know. But I can’t. All I do is cross my arms and look at him with a frown, and what looks dangerously like a pout. I'm a hundred percent sure that I look like a little kid before a tantrum, but I don't care. I feel my eyes getting warm and stinging, the tears already prickling in the corners.
Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.
And the worst part is that no matter how fucking angry I am with him, I crave this. I want his touch. Iwanthim to punish me, give his attention, his love. No matter how fucked up this sounds. I want this so we can move on. I realize I stopped following him, just like a little scared boy now.
“You can either come by yourself, or I can drag you there, your choice,” he says, more patiently than I thought. When I don’t move, he grabs my arm to start dragging me.
I get rid of his grip and say, “I can walk!”
“Great. Follow me, then,” he says, much calmer than yesterday. Not like he's about to trash me. I start following him, my stomach sick with what he’ll do to me. My fucking cock, though, has a mind of its own, and it grows and twitches, already wet. I'm fucking wet with pre-cum just imagining Ethan. This thought makes me sick, sicker.
I should be angry. I was angry, for two weeks. But watching him defend me to Harry, I can't find it anymore. It's just gone.
We go to the admin hall, get upstairs, and go to his office. I can't breathe, I can't swallow. I'm shaking a little, and probably I look pale as a ghost. He should look at me and feel bad, take pity on someone so pathetic. He doesn't. He points to the inside, and I sigh, walking in.
He gets his chair, puts it in the middle of the room, sits on it, spreading his giant legs, and taps his lap.
“Come here,” he says, casually, like this is the most normal thing in the world, like we were going to talk about the fucking weather or something, not like he's about to spank me raw. My face is redder than a beet now.
“No fucking way,” I say. “Ethan, let me go. For real, I mean it,” I consider bolting to the door. I could unlock it. I could get the fuck out of there, but where would I go, then? Prison? “I should still be mad at you for what you did!”
His eyes narrow. "You have two options here. Either you walk over willingly, or I'll come get you myself. And trust me," his voice drops to a growl, "You won't like what happens if I have to go over there."
“You’re not going to spank me over your knees, there's no way in fucking hell that you'll do that, not after everything you’ve done,” I say, crossing my arms, definitely throwing a tantrum now, feeling all weird inside my stomach, and my dick is harder than a rock for some stupid crazy reason.
“Yes, I am,” he says with a sick smile. He's having loads of fun with that, I can see it. It's disgusting how hot I find it. “You’re behaving like a little boy that doesn’t know better, so I’ll punish you like one.”
“No way!” I exclaim, blushing even harder at the ‘little boy’ part. That guy is a kink fucker. I fuckingloveit. He just waits, patiently, not even hiding his smirk.
“Come on, I don’t have all day, pet,” he says, patting his thigh again, and I almost faint when I hear him using that fucking pet name. What the fuck!
"I can't believe you're doing this to me," I grumble and go, slowly, standing in front of his legs. He flips me over his knees easily. Ethan chuckles then, and I can feel the vibrations against my cheek.
"You've earned this. Yesterday you really fucked up."
