AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"I know you're awake." Amusement colors his voice. "You can quit faking now, Mercedes. Either open your eyes and get out of bed yourself, or I will drag you out and haul you to the stables naked. I can assure you it makes no difference to me."
My breath hitches at his threat, and I know this is not something I want to test him on. So far, clothing does not seem to be a luxury he wants to allow. He's in the habit of undressing me for reasons I can't entirely fathom. We both know he can't ever touch me. But does he want to?
I try to shove the thought from my mind as quickly as it enters. He gives me another shake, and reluctantly, I open my eyes and glance at the clock to see that it's only 4:30 a.m.
"What sort of fuckery is this?" I glance up at him in dismay. "I only went to bed two hours ago."
"That's not my problem," he answers coldly. "While you are under my roof, you will learn to keep a schedule. Your days of sleeping in are a luxury that will not be afforded to you in my care."
"Of course not," I hiss. "Because you get off on this. What kind of a sick person do you have to be to enjoy torturing others?"
"That's rich." He snorts. "Coming from you. Why don't you tell me this, little monster? What kind of sick person do you have to be to enjoy it?"
"Enjoy it?" I narrow my gaze on his infuriatingly handsome face and that smug expression I want to smack right off it. "There is not one thing I enjoy about your company. And from what I can tell, I'm not the only one. That's why you have to pay women to do your bidding. And if I were to venture a guess, it must be the same reason nobody ever sees you in the company of your own family. Even they can't stand you."
Almost immediately, I can tell I've gone too far with my observations. Storm clouds roll into his normally calm eyes, and the control he wears like armor seems to fracture almost instantly as his hand whips out and squeezes my jaw in his palm.
"Don't ever mention my family or presume to know anything about me. Do you understand?"
His voice shakes the room, and if I'm honest, staring him down like this is terrifying. I've never seen Judge come uncorked. But a small, twisted part of me also gets a secret thrill knowing I've pricked a nerve with him.
That same part of me relishing in the small victory also wants to know his limits. How far can I push him? At what point will he truly snap?
The broken part of me understands these are important details. I need to know how far he'll go, as painful as it might be. I need to have a full grasp on how badly he can hurt me so I know how to prepare for it in the future.
So despite the fact that I’m shaking, I steel myself in his grasp and stare down the beast inside him.
"What's the matter, Judge? You can't swallow the taste of your own medicine? Is it too bitter?"
When he doesn't answer, I go on, trudging into a territory I know we might never come back from.
"Is it mommy issues? Is that it? Is that why you like to exert your power over me? Or was it someone else? They say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Are you taking a page out of daddy's book, or perhaps even your grandfather?"
His nostrils flare, his grip on me tightening to the point of pain. I know I'm throwing salt in the wound. It hasn't been that long since his grandfather passed, something that's common knowledge in The Society. But for a moment, I think it doesn't matter. He knows what I'm doing, and Judge has always displayed an eerie ability to remain calm in almost every situation I've seen him in.
Some of the tension in my body ebbs away when he releases my face from his grip, and I prepare myself for a biting remark. But that isn't what I get. Without warning, he lunges toward me, and my instinct is to flee. I scramble backward, getting tangled in the bedding, and he captures me far too easily. For the first time, real fear streaks through me as he pins me to the bed and climbs astride my torso, locking me in place between his muscular thighs.
“Judge—” I try for a feeble protest as he yanks my tank top up over my head roughly, dragging my arms with it. He uses the material to secure my wrists in place, stretching the fabric until it starts to tear before he ties me in a knot so tight, I know I can’t escape.
I gulp in air, and he reaches behind him, shoving my shorts down to my ankles. When I buck up against him in resistance, he turns his fiery gaze back to me and pinches my nipple so hard I shriek from the shock of it.
“Enough,” he roars, slapping my breast with his palm. “Is this what you wanted? Is that it, Mercedes?”
When I don’t answer him, he slaps my other breast, and I jolt, my chest arching up off the bed as if I’m offering myself to him. I hate that display of weakness, but nobody has ever touched me like this. Nobody has ever shocked me this way.
“Answer me!” He slaps each breast again, his eyes flaring as my breaths come harder and faster.
“Fuck you.” My voice trembles, and I hate that too.
I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I can’t tear my eyes away from him as he puts me into my place in a way that nobody else has ever managed to.
“There you go, saying it again,” he growls. “You should be careful what you wish for, little monster.”
My breath catches as he flips me over beneath him, and my face falls into the pillow. He adjusts his position, moving his body lower to pin my legs again. I try to arch up, but he shoves me back down with a firm palm in the center of my back. And then that same palm thunders against my ass cheek with a ferocity I know will leave me thinking of him every time I sit for the next two days.
I try and fail to swallow my yelp, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t give me a second to recover before he smacks the same area, igniting a fire under my skin as heat blooms beneath the surface. This is worse than the crop somehow because it’s unpredictable. He aims with purpose, but I don’t know where he’ll strike. At first, I think it’s just the one side, and then he starts in on the other. He keeps going until I’m quite certain my ass is a giant red cherry, swollen from the artistry of his punishment. The thing that occurs to me as I’m lying there, panting like a dog, is just how true it is. Judge doesn’t do anything sloppy. Even when he loses control, he does everything with purpose.
“Had enough, or shall I keep going?” He sounds breathless, his voice rough, and it doesn’t escape my notice that when he leans forward, I can feel the warmth of his erection against my ass.
