“Colour,” hedemands.
I want to blurt out green, but I force myself to stop and think.To give him the truth.“Green,” I breathe.
His hand slapsme this time, not as hard.“Do you know whatyou’re being punished for?”he asksagain.
I struggle to think, not understanding why my answerwasn’tcorrect.Isn’tthat the issue between us?The massive flippin’ gap between us?
“N-no,” I stutter, hatingthat Idon’tknow him enough,don’t knowusenoughto know the reason why.
It’sonly been a few days,I reason.
That should have been enough.
He’smy lifemate.
The literal other half of my soul.
“You’re being punished,” hesays, grabbing my ass and rubbing the sting out of my skin, “for breaking my trust.”
My heart in my eyes, I turn my head to look at him.The beltslamsdown on my ass.Icryout, pain shooting up my back and down my leg.
“Colour?”he demands
“Green.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me.”His hand cupsme again, his fingers kneading away the bite of the belt.
“Green.”
The physical pain Icantake.But the emotional pain, the knowledge that heishurting this badly because of me?That Icannotdeal with.
“Don’t fucking do this for me,” he growls.“I need to be able to trust you.”His hand slapsmy ass.I push into his palm.
“Green,” I breathe, and I mean it.I know hewon’thurt me.And with every slap, Icanfeel the tension pouring out of him.
Grabbing my hips, he spinsme around.My slip twistsabove me.The beam creaks.
Dropping to his knees, he scoops bothmy legs over his shoulders and kissesme.I buck against his mouth.My hands fisting, I grab the silk holding me up.I want to touch him.I want to hold his hair in my hands, pin him to me, and swear I’llnever give him reason not to trust me again.
His tongue licksbetween my lips.I arch on a moan as heeatsme out like I’mhis last meal on death row.His fingers digging hard into my ass, he bitesmy pussy.Sharp pain mixeswith pleasure.Turning his head, hesinkshis teeth into my thigh.I cryout, knowing he’s bruising me, marking me, maybe even breaking the skin.
His tonguesweepsover the pain.It trailsto my pussy in soft licks thatleaveme weak.
“My king,” I breathe, close to the edge of orgasm.
Hisspanksmy ass as his tongue dipsall the way inside.He thrustsin and out of me as he rainsslap after slap down on my aching skin.
Twisting against my bindings, my hands opening and closing as I desperately wish to hold him, I lift my hipsandpress my clit against his face.
But as soon as I start to rub myself against him, he pullsback.Breathing heavily, he dropsmy legs off his shoulders andstands.Grabbing my jaw tight in his hand, he squeezesit.
“Bad girls don’t get to come,” he sneers.Leaning down, he kissesme hard.His teeth scrape against my bottom lip.When he sucksmy tongue into his mouth, I jerk back from the pain.It’ssurprisingly sharp.
Grabbing my chin, he pullsme back to him anddoesit again.I flinch, the pain bringing tears to myeyes.
But it’sthe knowledge that hedidit deliberately, that hewantsto hurtme for the purpose of hurting me thatmakesmy heart skip a beat.That makesmy skull pound with fear.
When he sucksit a fourth time, really freaking hard, I rip my face out of his grip on a cry.My bruised heartlodgesin my throat.
