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I swallow, my thighs pulling together as my pussy heats.

“Stay where you are.”

I freeze.

“Answer my question.”

“You,” I whisper.

His mouth twitches upwards in a smile. “Good girl.”

Fuck.

He disappears from sight again. Standing between my legs, he presses his bulge up against my pussy, and it throbs at the contact. I push myself into him, silently begging him to stop playing and take me. Paint me with his cum again.

His hands land on either side of my ass, pushing me back into the desk and further away from him.

God fucking dammit.

The cold leather of his belt grazes my ass.

Back and forth, back and forth. Until he finally slaps it across my left side. I moan again, my hands fisting around the gun. “You’re mine, Camila. And the fact that you do everything to show you’re not… really pisses me off.”

Slap.

Another moan.

The way Xander can turn all the pain from my past into pleasure is staggering as much as it is liberating.

“Dancing for all those men—that’s one thing. Not wearing panties? I don’t think you’re quite getting it.”

Slap.

At the beginning, pole dancing was a way for me to gain control of my life. My body.

Now? I couldn’t say I don’t enjoy the look on Xander’s face. Exactly the reason I forwent the panties.

“All of them looking at you makes my blood run cold. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about murdering every fucker who’s ever laid eyes on you.”

I whimper at his words. His hand fists in my hair, pulling my head back. “You are mine,” he growls. “My property. My Angel. Mine to look at, mine to play with, and only mine.”

Another slap stings my ass, and he rubs away the burning pain with his palm.

Some sick part of me wants him to do it again, though.

“You’re taking your punishment like such a good girl, Angel.”

Cold leather wraps around my neck. Xander pulls the end of the belt through the buckle, tightening it. He gently guides my head back down towards the desk.

"Is this okay?" he asks, his eyes softening for a beat, and it catches me off guard.

I blink. "Yeah."

He nods before his weight into me as he reaches over and unlaces my fingers from the gun, taking it. The cold barrel touches the skin on my back and travels down towards my ass, then my core. I mewl as he presses it into my slit, hitting that one spot that’s been weeping for attention.

“Tell me, sweetheart. Have you ever shot a gun before?” he asks, sliding the barrel up and down my slit painfully slowly.

He knows I haven’t, but he’s using this to taunt me.