Page 35 of Bound in Possession

"One," Maksim commands from above me, his voice entirely steady, though his breathing has grown dangerously heavy. "Count them, Camilla. And remember the rule—do not let go of the desk."

"Stop," I choke out, the stinging heat on my skin making my eyes water as I press my forehead against the cool, hard wood of the desk. "Maksim, stop."

"You've gone past the privilege of choice, princess," he growls from behind me, his tone dropping into a dominant, unyielding register. I hear the rustle of his suit jacket as he positions himself again. "I warned you to count. If you don't speak the numbers, we stay here all day."

The second strike descends with a heavy, resounding smack that makes my entire body shudder. The fire on my skin burns twice as hot, the sharp sting morphing into a deep, throbbing ache.

"Two," I gasp out quickly, trying to get it over with, my fingers digging desperately into the carved bevels of the mahogany.

"No," Maksim corrects, his voice dangerously smooth as he strokes a thumb over the newly reddened flesh. "It's one. Since you didn't count the first strike when I told you to, we start from the beginning. Count it properly, Camilla."

I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches, swallowing a sob of pure frustration and overwhelming arousal. "One," I spit out, the word dripping with forced defiance.

Crack.

The third impact lands squarely, right on the curve of my cheek. "Good girl," he murmurs, his breath hot against the back of my neck as he leans down closer, his chest pressing into my back. "Look at how beautifully you take it. So red. So pretty."

"Two," I whimper, my hips tilting instinctively away from the heat, only for his heavy hand to anchor my hip firmly in place.

Crack.

"Three," I cry out, a tear finally slipping down my cheek.

"Fucking gorgeous," he growls, his dirty words whispered directly into my ear as his palm strikes me again, harder this time.

"Breaking my rules just so you can be pinned down against my desk. You wanted this, didn't you? You wanted to feel exactly who owns you before our wedding."

Crack.

"Four!" I pant, my breathing completely shattered as the adrenaline overwhelms my senses. Every strike is rough, deliberate, and intoxicatingly heavy, blurring the lines between pain and a wicked, building pressure deep in my core.

Crack.

"Five," I gasp.

"Count it, princess. Let me hear how loud you can get for me," he commands, his voice thick with a dark, predatory hunger as he rains down the next few strikes in a steady, unmerciful rhythm. He continues to talk dirty, calling me his stubborn, beautiful little captive, marking his territory on my skin with every heavy blow.

Crack. "Six."

Crack. "Seven."

Crack. "Eight."

My hands are shaking so violently I can barely maintain my grip on the wood, but the fear of him resetting the count keeps my palms glued to the desk. The heat between my thighs is an absolute torment now, slick and aching, completely at the mercy of his rough, heavy hands.

Crack. "Nine."

"Last one, Camilla," he whispers, his voice a gravelly, possessive promise right before his hand descends with a final, stinging force that leaves my skin completely burning.

Crack.

"Ten," I sob out, my chest heaving, completely undone and trembling from head to toe under his absolute command.

The sharp, lingering sting of the final blow reverberates through my entire body, leaving me gasping for air. But the second my voice leaves my throat, the harshness vanishes.

Maksim presses his large, heavy palms flat against my burning, inflamed skin, smoothing over the heat with a slow, soothing pressure.

A ragged sob of pure relief slips from my lips, my forehead resting heavily against the cool wood of the desk as the agonizing tension in my muscles finally begins to melt.