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“I know you like this, pet.” He leaned forward so his breath was hot on my ear. He ran the cane up and down, teasing me.
I gripped the counter and watched him in the mirror. His gaze was wicked, evil. It set me on fire.
“You know I like it too.” He kissed my neck. “I like seeing my marks on your impeccable pale skin.” His hand bit into the skin of my thigh. “I like hurting you.”
I gasped as his hand moved from my thigh to cup me over the top of my panties.
“You like me controlling you, Stella. That’s what makes you so mad. You fucking love this.”
His hand was gone from my panties, and he was no longer bent over me. He was standing to my left, watching me in the mirror. The cane moved in a flash and slapped against my skin. Burning pain spread from where it hit, my knees almost buckling. I kept my eyes on Jay, my body shaking with the desire that was painted on his face, that thrummed through my blood.
“You want it again?” he asked, moving the cane gently over my burning flesh.
I gritted my teeth and nodded.
“No, Stella,” he scolded. “You do not get to continue the silent treatment. You want it again, you ask for it.”
Rage mingled with my need. “Fuck you,” I hissed, surprising myself.
Jay’s jaw ticced, and his eyes flared with something. Not anger. No. Hunger.
“Oh, I will Stella, I will be fucking you so hard you’ll be unable to sit down without thinking about my cock for the next week. But first, you need to ask.” The cane moved across my skin. “Nicely.”
My eyes were almost slits, they were narrowed that much, my breathing heavy and my heart a dull roar in my chest.
“Hit me again,” I chided, hating him, loving him, needing him.
Jay tilted his head ever so slightly.
My teeth sunk into my lip in defiance, eyes never leaving his. He didn’t move.
“Hit me again, sir,” I relented, my tone animalistic.
He grinned, showing all of his teeth, all of his wickedness. “That’s my pet.”
Then he hit me again.
And again.
Until I was soaking wet, inches from climax, until my knees were quaking, barely able to hold myself up. Then he carried me to our bed, put me on my hands and knees and fucked me. Hard. Relentlessly. In a way that sutured his brand over every inch of my skin. His ownership.
And I fucking loved it.
Later—much, much later, when I’d regained the ability to speak, after Jay had gently, reverently, rubbed lotion onto my red, stinging skin, once I was splayed over his body because I was unable to stand even the thousand thread count Egyptian Cotton sheets on my bare skin—I spoke.
“I’m not dropping Ollie as a client.” My soft voice cut through the night with the hard truth.
Jay stiffened underneath me, his arms tightening around me.
“I get it,” I whispered, my hand cupping his cheek. “I get how much you want me because I want you just as much. I can’t breathe thinking of another woman near you.” Felicity simmered between us, and I pushed that aside—pushed her aside. “But I will not drop clients. I will not let you tell me who I can and can’t spend time with. You have to trust that I’ll remove myself from any situations that get too close to something you don’t like.”
“I don’t like the thought of a man being close enough to fucking smell you, for your scent, your smile and your ass to harden his cock,” Jay seethed.
I grinned despite myself, need overcoming me again despite how tender I was from Jay’s love. From his brand.
“That’s not realistic, Jay,” I sighed.
Silence hung in the air for several long moments. “I know,” he relented finally, his hand brushing against the sensitive skin that was deliciously swollen. “I’m not going to stop,” he added. “I’ll never stop wanting to kill any man who thinks that they have any kind of right to what’s mine.” He kissed me, teeth brushing against my lips. “But I’ll try.”
“Want to know the truth?” I whispered.
“Always.”
“I never want you to stop.”
His hands clenched around me. “I never fucking will.”
Chapter 11
It was a Saturday.
An unusual one where we were both free.
Now that I was here full time, there were no days that belonged purely to Jay. He had them all. But somehow, unfortunately, we were only spending slightly more time with each other than we had back then.
I was busier than ever with work, so more often than not, there was some event to go to. If not for something to do with my work, for Jay’s. The more legitimate side of it, at least. The side with the parties, with the charitable donations, the Botoxed wives and the rich, old husbands.
Not the side with the blood, the weapons and whatever else. I didn’t see that. Still, even now, Jay protected me from that side of his life with ruthless determination. As much as I didn’t want to know about it, I had to. I was marrying this man. If I was going to spend my life with him, have his children, there couldn’t be pockets, chasms of his world that remained unknown to me. Even if the mere prospect of learning about them absolutely terrified me.
