Page 132 of Brutal Heir

I bucked again as wave after wave hit me.

Then, just as I was about to collapse in his arms, he swung my body violently to the side.

My middle struck the edge of the desk as he bent me over it. Flipping my skirt over my hips, he exposed my ass to the cool air. My skin wasn’t chilled for long.

I rested my cheek against the wood and looked up in time to see his arm raised behind me.

Before I could object, he spanked my ass with the full force of his flat hand.

He spanked me again on the same cheek. Heat bloomed over my flesh.

“Why are you⁠—”

“You’ll see,” he ground out as he pushed his fingers back inside my now sensitive pussy.

“No, I⁠—”

“What did I tell you about saying no to me?”

He pumped his fingers inside of me. The heightened fear and pain from his spanking as he held me in a humiliatingly submissive position over the desk played on all my darkest kinks.

I came a second time.

While my head still spun, he twisted his hand in my low ponytail and yanked me upward. Tears pricked my eyes from the sharp sting. My body slammed against his.

His fingers dug into the soft flesh of my cheeks while he jerked my mouth open.

He then pushed three fingers into my mouth. “Suck.”

Tears blurred my vision as I swept my tongue over his fingers, forced to not only taste the proof of my own pathetic submission, but to clean it off his skin.

He pulled his hand free. “Good girl.”

I sniffed and lowered my head, unwilling to let him see the turbulent emotions playing across my face.

When he tried to caress my cheek, I turned my face to the side, avoiding his touch.

My neck wrenched back as he renewed his grip on my hair. I couldn't turn away when he cupped my cheek.

He ran his thumb over my cheekbone, swiping at a wayward tear.

He frowned as he stared down at me. “Why do you insist on fighting me when you know you will lose?”

My lower lip trembled as I forced myself to hold his gaze. Blinking past the tears, I raised my chin. “Because one of these days, I’ll win…and I hope it breaks you when I do.”

Just once.

Just once I wanted to see this casually manipulative, overly confident, arrogant, god-like man brought to his knees by an unexpected blow.

I curled my fingers into fists at my sides.

And fuck, I didn’t just want to be there when it happened.

I wanted—needed—to be the cause of it.

I grasped on to that tiny spark as if it were my only light in the unrelenting darkness that surrounded him. I wasn’t as naive as he thought me. While I might not know what game he was playing, I at least knew I was an unwilling participant.

And in every game, even the weakest player gets a chance to play.