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She would accept her place, even if that meant I had to be more ruthless with her.
I’d never been a warm man. I’d been cold, isolated ever since I was a boy. Samantha’s charms and endearing sass were messing with my usual process. I’d become too attached because she was mine to keep. I’d gotten possessive to the point of obsession, and I’d only had her for a few days.
She existed to give me pleasure. I would teach her where she belonged: worshipping me on her knees.
Chapter 9
“You’re sad,” I observed, studying her drawn features and too-pale cheeks. I tucked her hair behind her ear. I’d almost forgotten how silky it felt beneath my fingertips in the hours I’d been away from her.
I’d thrown myself into work, leaving her all afternoon and well into the evening. I’d needed the time to collect myself, and leaving her chained to my bed was good for her, too. She would have had plenty of time to think about her new role in my home, her new life with me. I’d hoped to find a sweeter, more submissive Samantha waiting for me. I’d anticipated that she’d be eager for my company after thinking about me all day. She wouldn’t have had any other option; the collar around her neck served as a constant reminder of my control over her.
Instead, I found her wan and defeated.
“I’m not sad,” she lied. “I’m pissed.” There was no true spite in the words.
“You’re not angry.” I cupped her cheek so I could study her expression more carefully. Her usually sparkling eyes were dulled, her lips a few shades lighter than the lush pink I’d become accustomed to. “My angry gatita is cute and fierce. You’re sad.”
She blew out a long breath. “I’m bored,” she admitted. Finally, a small blue spark illuminated her eyes. “You keep me chained up. I can’t even use the freaking bathroom. Do you know how fu—” She caught herself before the curse word left her lips “—messed up that is?”
She obviously remembered her lesson about cussing at me. That pleased me, as did the renewed flush in her cheeks. “There’s my angry gatita,” I said with satisfaction, ignoring her accusations. “I was worried about you.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, pushing her small breasts together. “If you were worried about me, you wouldn’t leave me alone for hours with nothing to do. I’m going crazy here. Solitary confinement drives people crazy, you know that, right? Especially people like me.”
Some of my levity dropped. I hadn’t intended to make her crazed or sad. “What do you mean, people like you? The purpose of leaving you like this is so you’ll wait for me. You’ll depend on me for everything. It helps you feel my control, even when I can’t be here with you.”
She shoved at my chest in a token show of annoyance, but I didn’t bother restraining her. She wasn’t really trying to fight me, and she clearly needed to bleed out some of her frustration.
“Do you know how many thoughts I have? Like, all at one time? If I don’t have something to focus on, they overwhelm me. I can’t live like this.”
“It’s only been two days,” I pointed out. “You’ll adjust.”
“I won’t. You don’t know me at all. I’ll go nuts if you keep leaving me like this.”
I considered her for a moment, my face drawing tight with disapproval. “If you’re trying to manipulate me into letting you walk freely around the suite, it’s not going to work. That’s a privilege you have to earn.”
“I’m not trying to manipulate you,” she burst out, exasperated. “That’s what you do, right? Manipulate people. Mindfuck them. Well, I’m not like you. I’m telling you the truth. I can’t handle this.” She tugged at the collar for emphasis. She was no longer chained to the bed, but I’d left the collar locked around her throat. I liked the way the dark leather looked against her fair skin.
Now, she had me questioning that decision. She had me questioning every decision I’d made about her today. Was I really mishandling her so badly? I’d never had so much trouble reading a woman. Samantha was unpredictable, a puzzle I hadn’t quite solved.
“No. You’re not like me,” I finally allowed. “I’ll take this into consideration.” I brushed a soft kiss over her forehead; a small, involuntary show of contrition.
A devious idea came to me. I didn’t like that I’d upset her, and if her mind was whirring that fast, I would provide her with release. “I think I have a way to calm that busy brain of yours. You were so good accepting your punishment last night and behaving for Lauren today. I never did give you your reward.”
“I don’t want it. Having you touch me is not a reward.”
“You’re still upset,” I noted, unruffled now that I’d decided on my course of action. “This will help you calm down. And before you keep arguing with me, I’ll promise that I won’t make you come, unless you ask me to. Does that make you feel better?”
She eyed me warily, distrustful. “What are you going to do to me? I don’t want to go back into that torture room.”
“It’s not a torture room,” I countered calmly. “But no, we won’t go in there. I want you to relax, not get more worked up. No more questions,” I dictated when she opened her mouth to speak. “Come with me.”
I assumed she might give me trouble, so I simply picked her up and carried her to our destination.
She crossed her arms over her chest, petulant.
I laughed, succumbing to her charms once again. As much as I wanted to treat her as nothing more than my plaything, Samantha kept amusing me. It would be a shame to alter this aspect of her personality. She really was adorable when she was feeling feisty. As long as she learned not to lash out at me and to speak to me with respect, I might allow some of this behavior in the future.
“You really are cute when you’re angry.”
