I gasp, utterly offended and horrified. “I do not!”
I totally do.
He slides his fingers between my legs as if he owns me, as if he has every fucking right to touch me there.
“Look at that,” he whispers. I gasp, my back arching involuntarily when he strokes my pussy. His fingers glide effortlessly through my arousal.
“Doesn’t mean a thing,” I pant, and I can’t help moving my hips so he touches where I ache for him. I sigh when he strokes against my swollen clit. “It’s a defense mechanism, nothing intentional.”
He freezes, no longer stroking me.
“You have no control over this. You really believe that?”
“Uh-huh. Yup. Exactly.”
“So you don’t want me to continue this?” He gives me one perfect, absolutely perfect, stroke of his fingers, making me stifle a moan. “If I stop, you won’t ask me to continue?”
I shake my head from side to side, unable to speak out loud.
“You lie,” he says, resuming his position behind me. “And you have more to tell me.”
I scream when he gives me the hardest smack yet, the pain blossoming across what feels like my entire arse. I can’t think beyond the pain, can’t breathe.
There’s nothing but me and pain… and my desperate need for more.
CHAPTER NINE
Tate
I'm tornbetween wanting to punish her more and wanting to gather her up in my arms and kiss those salty tears off her cheeks. She tried to hide them from me, but I can hear them in her voice, and I know how I’ve affected her. I'm determined to get the truth from her if it kills me. If it drives a wedge between the both of us.
I hate that she’s put me in this position. I hate that she’s put my family at risk. I hate that she lied to me.
At first, when I began to punish her, I felt like I was actually getting somewhere. I don’t miss the tears on her cheeks, or the way her voice has gotten all trembly. I struck a chord, though, when I poked fun at how much of a “real” writer she is.
I don’t regret it. I need to get through to her somehow, and if this is the way I have to do it, so be it.
Jesus, I feel like a douche though. Such a fucking douche.
But I have a job to do, and I’m not going to fail at it.
I rest my hand on her arse and ask her a pointed question. “Are you going to tell me the truth, or do we need to escalate this?”
She pauses, then, with a tremulous voice asks, “What does escalate this mean?”
Without thinking, I spank her again, my palm slapping against her naked skin with the sound of a gunshot.
“Ow! Oh, God, Jesus, I’ll give you the truth. Doesn’t matter what it means, I just wondered if you were calling the others in.”
I spank her again, just where her thigh meets her arse, and she hisses in a breath. Sensitive there. Noted.
“You want my brothers to see you like this?”
“Noooo,” she moans. “No, no, please.”
She’s afraid of being before them, then.
“You fear them more than you fear me?” I ask, shaking my head from side to side. For a vulnerable woman in the process of being punished, she’s got one fucking nerve.
