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“Stay the fuck away from me.” I glanced behind me at the door. When I turned back to look at him he was already in front of me, grabbing my arms and dragging me back to the table.

I kicked out, trying to get him between the legs, but he spun me around and locked one massive arm around my chest, lifting me off the ground.

“Every time you try and hurt me,” he said, his mouth close to my ear and his voice low and steady, “I will punish you. Do you understand me?”

In response, I grabbed his forearm and sank my teeth into his flesh, tasting soap and sweat.

I bit down harder, hoping he would let go, but instead he sat down on the chair I’d abandoned and easily swung my legs across his thighs until I was facedown, still latched to his arm. When I tried to knee him, he spread his legs, lifting one and setting it over the backs of my thighs, locking me down until my ass was jutting into the air and I couldn’t move. His legs were like steel traps, hot and hard and fucking strong.

“This is going to hurt, Margot.”

I bit down harder, wishing my teeth were sharp enough to break his skin.

Then he slapped my ass with so much force that I screamed. Even through my pants, it felt like the worst kind of pain. That whip-strong intensity that sent fire from the center of my ass to my hips and my groin. My heart started to pound when I realized he meant to keep going, that I was actually trapped here and no amount of biting would get him to stop.

“Wait—”

He spanked me again, on my left cheek, his entire palm spanning it. Then my right cheek. My whole body jerked with the force of the smacks.

“No, I’m sorry⁠—”

Smack.

My breath got caught in my throat and I choked out a strangled sound of anguish, the fire in my ass growing and spreading. I clutched his arm, too dizzy with pain to try and bite him again, to think of anything other than getting away from his goddamn hands. He spanked me again, right in the center of my cheeks, and I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fucking stop!” My voice was hoarse, my throat raw, and there was something else happening.

Something I hated to admit but couldn’t deny.

I was getting turned on. Really, disgustingly, turned on.

The pain was morphing into pleasure, the two twisting and clinging to each other until I wasn’t sure which was which. Until I didn’t care. It had been so long since I’d purposely hurt myself to the point it was all-consuming, and this was so much better than anything I could’ve ever done to myself.

My clit was throbbing, and when the next hit came, a long moan was dragged from my chest.

“Court,” I rasped, my head spinning as euphoria flooded my veins. “Please.”

His hand was rubbing me now, slow, gentle circles that only made the heat fan out, only made the ache in my groin more intense.

“Mm,” he hummed, the sound echoing through my body, vibrating over every nerve ending. “So you like that.” He continued kneading me, soothing the pain. One of his fingers dipped between my cheeks, gliding slowly on a downward stroke. With a small whimper, I started to push against his touch, needing him to soothe a different ache he’d stirred up.

He leaned over me, the heat of his body radiating through his clothes as he brushed his lips against my ear. “I like that, too.” He stroked down to the tops of my thighs, then back up, excruciatingly slowly. “Can you feel how much I like it?”

As soon as he said it, he moved his hips until his erection brushed against my stomach, and the intensity of how much I wanted him to move my body up just a little more, just so he could rub himself against my throbbing clit, was disturbing.

His low, calm voice sent a shiver down my spine. “If we’re going to work together, you need to behave. I’m not your enemy.”

I was drifting in a heavy fog, pain and pleasure curling over every nerve, every limb, every molecule of my being. My fingers were bone-white against his arm. My lungs felt like they were being squeezed with barbed wire, and small tremors rolled through me as he kept rubbing up and down the crease in my ass, his fingers so fucking close to my pussy but never touching it.

“Fuck, you are so damn perfect,” he murmured. His hand crept higher until he was sliding it underneath my shirt, calloused fingers brushing along my bare skin. “God, the things I want to do to you, Margot.”

A frisson of displeasure crackled through me, and, with my cheek pressed against his thigh, my limbs just dead weight, I mumbled, “That’s not my fucking name.”

He shifted, and then his lips were at my ear. “Margot,” he said, and I could hear the fucking smile in his voice. “Oh, Margot, Margot, Margot, what am I going to⁠—”

God, fuck this guy. I knew he was doing it intentionally, and I still let him get to me. “It’s Whitney,” I relented. If I had to hear Margot one more time from his teasing lips, I was going to snap. And just look how that turned out for me? I was a puddle of goo on his lap right now.

“Whitney,” he repeated, testing it out, letting it take shape in his perfect mouth. For some reason, hearing my name on his lips sent a spark of arousal straight between my legs.