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My heart was thundering when I was done, all of my nerve endings exposed. But I didn’t let it show. My face was an even mask, free of both the terror and the desire I felt.
I’d expected some sort of battle from Cristian. On the principle of the matter. This belonged to a girl who had died over twenty years ago. Yet this was a man who had an empty space where a heart was supposed to go. My wearing this dress might graze his skin, but it would never reach his bones.
Or so I’d thought.
Cristian moved quickly and without giving me a chance in hell to escape. My back slammed against the wall so hard a picture fell to the floor. One of his hands circled my neck, his eyes wild on mine.
“You have no fucking idea what you’re playing with, Sienna.” His hand tightened to the point of pain, so it became hard to breathe. He could’ve killed me if he squeezed much harder. “You do not fear me as you should.”
“What are you going to do?” I rasped, barely able to get the words out. “Kill me? Go ahead. Prove me right. Show me what a monster you really are.”
His eyes flared, and his hand flexed.
My lungs burned with the effort it took to take those short, shallow breaths. I could barely hear through the roar in my ears. My body was coated with Cristian’s fury. It was a physical thing, outside of himself. In every interaction I’d had with him, he’d been calm, quietly threatening, always in control. He wasn’t in control now, that much was clear. And he’d never been more dangerous.
Instead of speaking, instead of killing me, Cristian’s hand moved from my neck, down to the bodice of my dress—her dress—ripping it to expose my breasts, my nipples already hard, sensitive. He tweaked one roughly, pleasure and pain mixing as I cried out, my body working overdrive.
Cristian’s other hand went under the dress, and his eyes flared. “No fuckin’ panties,” he groaned. “You dirty little whore.” His fingers plunged inside me, and I threw my head back in ecstasy. “I fucking own you.” His voice was feral as he freed himself from his pants.
“Say it,” he ordered, his other hand around me, yanking our bodies flush before my leg wrapped around his hip.
His cock pressed against my entrance, but he didn’t surge in. Not yet. His hand traveled to the back of my neck, clamping on tight. “Say it, Sienna,” he repeated.
“You own me,” I breathed, hating us both as the words came out, coated in truth.
“Yes, I fuckin’ do,” he snarled as he thrust into me.
More pictures crashed to the floor as he continued to fuck me without control, without any care about my wellbeing. He was furious with me. For a moment, he had wanted to kill me, I’d seen it in his eyes. And fuck me, had it turned me on. It caused me to come so hard, I collapsed under the weight of it, only staying upright because Cristian took all of my weight. “I’m not fucking done with you,” he growled in my ear, slamming me against the wall. “By the end of tonight, you’re not going to be able to walk. You won’t be able to speak. I’m going to spank you so fucking hard you won’t sit down for a week.”
“I-I hate you,” I stammered as he continued fucking me, another orgasm building that my body wasn’t ready for.
“Keep telling yourself that. Because I know I’m trying my hardest to hate you, and it’s fucking impossible. We are both damned.”
Damned.
Yes, that’s what we were.
“Lay over my knee.”
Cristian’s voice was guttural.
He’d carried me up the stairs.
Carried me up the stairs.
After ripping the rest of the dress off me. Tearing it. To shreds. He hadn’t lost that furious, murderous energy. It rippled off him like electricity.
I’d never been into the spanking thing, despite all of my sexual proclivities and obvious daddy issues. I did like to be shamed in certain ways. Hurt in others. The act of spanking didn’t appeal to me in any kind of way.
But I wasn’t going to say no to Cristian either. Even I wasn’t that brave. Beyond that, I wanted more from him. I’d pushed him to the edge, maybe even over the edge, now I’d discover what I’d done. Who he was without that control.
My heart thundered against my chest as I approached him. He snatched my waist when I was within grabbing distance, laying me over his lap. There was no warm up, no easing me into anything—we were well past that. The slap of his palm against my skin echoed through the quiet room. I jerked at the force of it, the pain radiating over my skin.
Another slap sounded, and my teeth sank into my lip until I tasted blood. My pussy clenched under the force of the next impact, my body coiling, battling with pleasure and pain.
