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Swiping at her eyes, she looks down and doesn’t respond, not even startled by the threat of punishment.
I fight the urge to draw her to my chest and hold her close. To wipe her tears away and kiss those tear-stained cheeks. To punish those who made her cry. To avenge her.
“I asked you a question,” I remind her, chucking a finger under her chin so her eyes meet mine. “And I expect an answer.”
“I hate the corner,” she says. “And I’m just tired and hungry, and I lost my resolve. You’re not exactly the nicest person.”
“I’m not.” My people speak the truth, so I’m not angered by her honesty. “But that’s not why you cry. Why do you hate the corner?”
Even though she looks at me, I watch as her eyes shutter. “I don’t know,” she lies.
I yank her chin so her gaze swings back to mine. “That isn’t the truth.”
“I don’t know,” she repeats, meeting my gaze but closing herself off from me.
“Then behave yourself so I don’t send you there,” I say sternly, dismissing the small lie I’ll revisit until I know the truth. “You need food and rest, and so do I. Come with me.”
I’m tired of this. The tour of my place can wait until later.
Taking her hand in mine, I half-drag her to my room. I’m vaguely aware of her eyes widening when she sees the cuffs, chains, and rings on my bed, the comfortable leather furniture and equipment, the wall of tools hanging on hooks. Many have a playground. My playground is in my bedroom.
My servants have prepared my bed as instructed, the sheets turned down and freshly cleaned. I tap a text on my phone to order food brought up, then point to the bed.
“Lie down.”
She climbs onto the bed, scowling.
“There’s one bed,” she says, her anger returning.
“Smart girl,” I say, barely stopping an eye roll. If she thinks she gets her own bed, she has a lot to learn.
I strip out of my own clothes, standing just in my boxers, and make a call on my phone before I return to her. The weariness of travel settles in my bones. I never rest during the day but she needs to, and I need to commence her training. I’m curious how it will be with her.
“On your back, Sadie.” I watch as her back goes rigid, the wheels in her mind turning before she decides if she’ll obey. She isn’t comfortable naked in front of me. But when I take a step toward her to correct her, she quickly obeys, flipping onto her back so I can’t reach the pretty little backside that needs to feel the sting of my palm.
“Why the hesitation?” I ask her.
“Because I don’t trust you,” she says truthfully between clamped teeth.
“Ah. I thought perhaps it was because you’re uncomfortable being naked.”
Her cheeks flush a vibrant shade of heated pink but she doesn’t respond. My guess was correct, then. There’s that, too.
I prowl closer to her, taking in her the luscious curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts, the peaked nipples. I swallow. Oh, the ways I will bring this girl pleasure and pain.
“Keep your hands by your side,” I instruct, my voice ragged with arousal. “Do not move them.”
Her hands slowly fall to her sides as she stares up at the ceiling. I watch as her jaw tightens and her lips become so thin they’re barely visible. Her spine is ramrod straight.
I kneel on one knee beside her. The large bed is a high-quality affair I had imported. It barely moves when I press my weight into the mattress. “I wonder what’s on your mind,” I muse, tracing my index finger down one bare shoulder. She shivers. “I wonder what you’re thinking. What you fear.”
I let the words settle like softly fallen snow. She’s so quiet, I’m surprised when she speaks.
“I wonder why you took me,” she whispers. “What a plain, boring girl like me could offer a powerful, beautiful man like you.” It isn’t a compliment. She’s truly bewildered.
Weaving my fingers through her hair, I shake my head. “Is that really what you think, Sadie? That you’re a plain, boring girl?”
She snorts. “I don’t think. I know.”
“You’re wrong,” I tell her, allowing my fingertip to roam over the swell of her breasts. I watch her beautiful pink nipples stiffen as she bites her lip. You’re never to say a thing like that again,” I whisper. “Not ever again. If you do, I will punish you. Am I clear? Respond correctly.”
“Yes, sir.” But her response is tight. Angry. “Fine.”
I take her nipple between my fingers and pinch it. She howls and writhes. So sensitive to pain. My dick hardens at the thought of what I could do to her. What I will do to her.
“Try that again,” I order.
