Page 75 of Captive Ruin

“You came so hard around my cock.”

I clench my jaw until it aches.

“I enjoyed it,” he goads.

“I’m so fucking glad,” I hiss.

“And here we are again,” he murmurs, then spanks my ass several times in succession. I gasp through the sting, gripping the bars of my headboard to ground me.

“Once more, consent isn’t even an afterthought,” I say when I can catch my breath.

“That’s because you’re mine.” He strokes his hand over my bottom, squeezing gently. I shudder in pleasure at his touch, the contrast of harsh and soft.

“You don’t own me.” The words come out on a breath, lacking the force I was trying to put behind them.

“Don’t I?”

“No, you bastard—”

“When you respond to me so well?”

“It’s not response, it’s—”

“Even when I’m not with you, I fill your thoughts and dreams.”

I falter.

He’s guessing. He can’t know that. It’s ego speaking, nothing more.

I bluff it out. “My nightmares, you mean.”

“Mmm, because you hate this so much.” He pushes a finger inside me, and I’m so wet it glides in easily.

“I hate you,” I say through clenched teeth, keeping my jaw locked to prevent myself from moaning.

“Me, huh?” he says, amusement in his tone. “Let’s go with that, then. Implicit agreement that you don’t, in fact, hate what I’m doing to you at all.”

“What kind of fucked up logic is—”

“You’re so wonderfully aroused and wet. Is it being pinned? Or do you like pain more than you’re willing to admit?”

Complicated questions. I give him an answer I don’t have to think about. “No one likes pain, you asshole.”

“Everyone likes pain,” he contradicts. “Ever licked a cut on your lip? Or scratched a mosquito bite until it hurt, and kept going? It’s only a matter of degrees.”

Damn it. He might be right again.

“Are you going to lift your bottom like a good girl?”

“Go to hell, Van Wyk.”

“Lukas,” he says.

Then he rains down blow after blow on my ass, until I’m squirming and gasping on the bed. My flesh is on fire, my skin burning, and I can’t move enough to avoid his spanks.

We’re both breathing hard by the time he stops, and I can’t muffle the sobs that escape.

“It’s particularly beautiful when it’s colored red like this.” He sounds almost reverent. Then his palm caresses me lightly, and this time my whimpers won’t be refused. It’s too much; the pain, the pleasure, the damn sensuality of it all.