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Evan crouches down in front of me, his emerald eyes almost black with lust. He hooks his finger under my chin and tilts my head just a little, until I’m looking up at him through hooded lashes. He’s wearing the cocky smirk I love, and as his eyes rove over my body, I allow myself a moment to do the same.
I’ve become used to seeing his body, but there’s just something about this situation that makes it feel all new. He always looks unbelievably sexy, but when he’s in a truly dominant role like this, he’s never looked more dangerous.
His black hair, that’s been getting longer the two months we’ve been here together, now sticks up at all angles, like he’s been running his fingers through it, while he’s been waiting to approach me. His angled jawline is covered with a splatter of stubble that gives him a devilishly handsome look. As he licks his tongue over them while looking at me, his pink lips look plump and inviting.
Evan’s muscular body somehow manages to look both hard and smooth at the same time. Hard lines and rippling abs that make him look like that of a fucking Greek God, yet I know from experience that if I were to run my hand over the ridges, his skin would be silky smooth.
His black sweatpants hang low, showing off the delicious hard lines of his hips, and that V that all women seem to love so much, yet it’s so much better on Evan. There’s a small black trail leading into his sweats, and I want nothing more than to follow it down.
Even with the loose pants on, I can see how hard Evan is, his length tenting them in a very obvious way. I lick my lips as I imagine him pulling his sweatpants down, and the sight I know I will find.
Evan chuckles when he catches me checking him out for longer than I probably should, and my cheeks heat at getting caught. “Do you remember your safe word, Angel?” he asks.
I nod my head, unsure if I’m allowed to speak yet.
“You have permission to speak if I address you directly,” he confirms.
I have to open and close my mouth a couple of times to get rid of the dry woolly feeling before I can answer him. “My safe word is pickles.”
“Good girl,” he says with a smile, the praise hitting and rippling through my body. “Do you have any hard limits? I remember the list you had a decade ago, so I just need to know if anything has changed. Obviously, we won’t try anything new for now.”
I take a moment to think. I should probably be shocked that he can still remember my list of hard limits from over a decade ago, but I’m not. We created the list together, and I still remember everything on his.
Instead, I think about if there’s anything new I need to add to it. I know exactly what he’s referring to, and the more I think about it, the more my heart races in panic.
I’m not ready for The Sheriff to take anything more from me. So despite not being sure how I will react, I respond honestly. “No. I don’t have any new hard limits.”
Evan looks down at me with an assessing gaze, like he’s trying to tell if I’m being honest. “What about blow jobs, Teigan?” he asks, explicitly voicing the issue he was hinting at.
Since I came to the safe house, and we started having sex, I made it very clear that blow jobs were off limits for me. After everything I’ve been through, and the amount that was forced on me, I was no longer sure I could enjoy them the way I did before. But now, I’m determined not to let this be another way they beat me.
“I’d like to try. I can’t promise how I will feel, but I do at least want to give it a go,” I answer honestly.
“If we try, do you promise to use your safe word at the first sign that it may be triggering for you?”
“I promise,” I say, nodding my head in confirmation.
His dark eyes continue to assess me, like he’s trying to decide if I’m being honest, or if I’m just saying what I think he wants to hear. He obviously sees what he needs to, as he winks at me before his gaze turns hungry again.
“Stand,” he says sharply.
I race to my feet at his instruction, holding back a wince at the way my body protests as I stretch out my sore muscles. As soon as I’m standing, my legs only slightly wobbly, Evan slowly begins to circle me, like a predator assessing their prey.
“Do you have any idea how many things I need to punish you for?” he asks, when he finally stops in front of me.
My brows shoot into my hairline as my eyes widen at the mention of him punishing me. I try to rack my brain, thinking of anything I might have done that would warrant being punished. There’s the odd occasion I’ve rolled my eyes at him, or argued with him when I knew he wanted me to agree with him—those can’t possibly count, can they?
SLAP!
I obviously take a little too long to answer Evan, as he quickly spanks my ass with the palm of his hand. It’s not a hard hit, but the shock of not expecting it makes the sting seem worse, especially when he doesn’t move to soothe the pain like he normally would.
“If I ask you a question, Teigan, you should answer me,” he growls.
“Sorry, Sir,” I reply quickly. “I don’t know how many things you need to punish me for.”
His smirk widens, and as his emerald eyes sparkle. I know I’ve just given the exact answer he was looking for. “So, if youdon’t know how many things I should punish you for, how will we decide what your punishment is?”
He talks in the low, gravelly voice that seems to speak directly to my core, making me wetter. I want to rub my thighs together, to relieve just a little of the aching tension that’s growing, but I know that will just be another thing he punishes me for. Or worse still, he might not allow me to come at all, and I can’t risk that.
