Page 91 of The Beast Who Begged Me

Before I get the buckle undone, he catches my wrists and draws me away from the door. He turns until his back is to the bed, walking backward and pulling me with him without breaking the kiss. When his legs meet the mattress, he sits, leaving me standing between his knees.

“Take them off,” he says, gesturing at my clothes.

I shrug off my jacket, pull off my tie, and start unbuttoning my shirt. His gaze follows my fingers as I work my way down.

“Slower.”

I comply, taking my time over the last few buttons before letting the shirt fall. I step out of my shoes, peel off my socks, then open my pants and ease them down with my underwear. By the time I’m standing naked before him, my body is already signaling what I want from him.

Dami strips off his jacket and tie, then unbuttons his shirt, watching me as he does. He drops them onto the bed and toes off his shoes. I wait while he removes his socks and stands to shed the rest, impatient enough that his deliberate pace earns him a scowl.

He only grins and sits back down, spreading his knees. “Come here with that cute little toy,” he says. “I want to play.”

“Make me.” I don’t know why I always want to goad him like this, but I know he enjoys it just as much as I do.

A flash in his eyes is my only warning before he’s off the bed. I dart away, laughing. I’m faster than Dami, but the room isn’t that big.

And it’s the same as it always is: I want him to catch me.

I make it around the foot of the bed before he catches me near the armchair, wrapping an arm around my waist and hauling me back against his chest. His hard length presses into me as he bends to my ear.

“Going somewhere?”

I try to twist away, but he’s much too strong. He pushes me forward over the chair’s padded arm, and I land with a grunt, my feet on the carpet and my stomach against the velvet. I brace my hands on the seat cushion, then push my ass back toward him, a silent invitation.

He runs a hand over one cheek and then the other in a possessive caress. “You’re a fucking tease, Caligula Clemenza.”

I look back over my shoulder at him. “Maybe you should punish me. Remind me who’s in charge.”

His eyebrows rise, but I just smile. “Punish you?” he asks. “Is that what you want?”

“If you think it might help me learn my place,” I purr, and I lift my ass a little higher.

“Let’s see if it does,” he says. “Let’s see if it helps you remember who owns you.”

His hand lifts, and I brace myself.

The last time he did this, things were very different between us. I want to experience it again, as something playful. As something fun. And most of all, I want to see if it has the same effect on me.

The first slap lands hard across my right cheek. The sting of it radiates out, and I cry out more from shock than pain.

He strikes the other, then alternates, settling into a rhythm that leaves my skin burning and my cock leaking against the velvet. When he pauses to rub the sting away, I moan into the cushion.

“You like that?” he asks, his voice low and rough.

“Yeah,” I pant.

Because I do. I fucking loved it the first time he did it in the basement, and that was when we were still enemies. I didn’t understand it at the time, my body’s reaction to it.

Clemenzas don’t kneel. We don’t submit. But with Dami, I don’t have to carry the weight of my Family’s expectations. With Dami, I can just…be me.

The Caligula who likes this. The burn. The pain.

The surrender.

“You want more?” he prompts, giving my ass a little squeeze.

“Yes,” I breathe, pushing back against his hand. “Please.”