Page 68 of Colton

“This is too much,” I rasp, my voice barely above a whisper. Yet, Colton hears it — because, of course, he does. The man has keen senses, and he never misses anything regarding me.

“Is it?” He taunts, thrusting deeply into me, then just holding me by the hips, and a gasp slips from me. “Oh, but you’re so pretty wrapped around my cock, Avalon. How could I not torture you a little?”

A string of curses falls from my lips, albeit muffled. I’m not prepared for the consequences if he were to hear, though judging by the way his brows narrow slightly, I’d say he has a pretty good idea of what I said.

My eyes roll to the back of my head, pure ecstasy filling my body, and I’m struggling to hold back. I know my body well enough, and the orgasm is near, and the moment Colton starts his brutal rhythm again, I know I’m teetering on the edge.

“If you so much as try to cum without my permission, I promise you, I’ll spank that ass of yours until it bleeds.”

The threat is as clear as day; yet I find myself enthralled by it. The image flashes behind my eyes, and the thought of my ass bruising at his hand makes me shiver.

And just as I’m about to cum, Colton smirks. That infuriating smirk of his, when he knows he has the upper hand and that I’m all putty in his hands, he uses it against me. He pulls out abruptly, leaving me feeling empty.

“Hey!” I protest, then shut my mouth when his hand connects with my ass, making me jolt forward a little. The stinging sensation only makes me more aroused, if possible, and my eyes flutter closed.

“And here I thought you were going to be a good girl for me,” he muses, then flips me back to lie on my back. “I gave you a warning, and you were going to disobey,” he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I hate when people disobey, Avalon.”

Oh, I know that look.

It tells me I’m utterly and completely screwed. He comes to sit on the edge of the bed, then pats his knees. My heart flutters, and I crawl on top of him, my ass in the correct position for him to spank it.

“But I didn’t come,” I defend, though it falls on deaf ears. He chuckles, and I think I’m getting a little scared of what’s going to happen to me.

“You were going to,” he points out, and there’s no use in lying to him, because he is right. “I might’ve been gracious enough to overlook it, had you not been warned not even a minute before. So, you won’t get to come tonight at all.”

My eyes snap to his, and the wicked look overtakes his features. I’ve never seen it in his eyes, such a deep, twisted greed that makes the blood in my body boil. Then, his hand comes down to my ass, and I gasp.

It’s rougher, harder than the first time. It’s clear that the first time was just a warning, and I’m now in deep trouble. Then, he soothes the spot he hit with his palm, rubbing it softly.

“You’re going to count each one, Avalon,” he commands, and the instinct to comply flutters in my mind. “If you fail, we start over. However, if you manage to take it like a good girl, I’ll let you come.”

I swallow thickly. “How many?”

“I’m thinking we start easy,” he hums. “How about fifty?”

Fifty is starting easy?!

My eyes widen, almost falling out of my sockets, and it only makes his aura darken. God, this is precisely where he wanted me, and I didn’t even see it coming. He lured me with his sweetness, and by the time I realized that it was nothing but a decorated cage, it was too late. Like a bird whose wings got chipped, he has me locked up, and the key doesn’t exist.

“Is something the matter, Avalon?” He asks, squeezing my ass.

“N-no,” I stutter. “I can handle it.”

He lifts a brow, then chuckles.

“Count.”

Then, he starts.

The first fifteen seem to be easy, and I count them with ease. Though, with each smack that comes down on my sensitive flesh, I’m less confident I’ll be able to hold on until we reach fifty.

My voice gets quieter, but I don’t miss a single one. It’s difficult; it’s pain mixed with pleasure, and I’m determined to see through the end, because I’ll be damned if I don’t get to come tonight.

It’s surreal — it hurts like a bitch, but the heat that’s pooling between my legs with each hit, dripping down my thighs, is terrifyingly addicting. My eyes swell with tears, and I don’t hold them back.

They’re rolling down my cheeks freely, my vision blurry, and my throat getting dry. Each number grows quieter, raspier, and barely audible, though he doesn’t comment. Instead, he soothes my skin, then slaps it again, making the tears fall more.

“Just a little more,” he coos, his voice sweet as syrup, and it makes me ache for his touch. “You can do it, can’t you?”