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“On your knees, little dove,” he commands and I drop without thought, doing as he says immediately. Perhaps that should annoy me, that my body listens to him even before my mind can process what he’s asked of me, but it doesn’t. “Good girl,” he praises as he finally turns toward me. He’s still fully dressed in slacks and a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up over his impressive forearms. His eyes sweep over my bare skin and he frowns as he moves toward me. “Wynter, do you want to explain why you’re as red as a fucking lobster right now?”
I open my mouth to reply, but before I can, he’s tipped my chin up to look at him, fury behind the deep blue. “I-I had a hot shower. I felt dirty,” I tell him truthfully. I don’t know if it’s the answer he wants, and the idea of disappointing him makes me draw my bottom lip between my teeth.
“And you thought it was acceptable that you harm yourself in the process? That you harm what belongs to me?” He raises his voice, but I don’t flinch away. Everett would rather cut off his own hands than hurt me, and that thought gives me comfort.
“I-I didn’t,” I stammer.
Everett tugs me to my feet and holds my arm in a punishing grip as he drags me across the room to the full-length mirror. “Does this look like it’s not hurt?” he growls, pointing to the red splotches across my chest.
I stare at our reflection in the mirror, completely distracted by the people staring back at me. Wet blonde hair sticks to my naked chest and arms, my pale skin marked with red while Everett looms over me, his eyes darkening with anger as he stares at my chest. He’s still fully dressed, and the power extruding off him is intoxicating. His jaw is set in a hard line, ticking every now and then with barely contained anger.
“Answer me, Wynter,” he snaps.
“It doesn’t hurt,” I whisper, tearing my eyes away from the god of a man to look at my own body. The red does look angry, but my skin is numb, depleted of any feeling, almost as if my heart feeling so heavy takes away any physical pain.
“You talked back to me tonight. I think you need to be punished.”
A shrill of excitement courses through my body. I shouldn’t relish in the thought of him marking me, but fuck I do. The reminders he leaves on my skin at night distract me from my realities during the day, and I need that. I need that distraction.
He must notice the way my legs press together because he shakes his head slowly. “You’re not coming tonight, dove. Tonight we’re going to make better use of that smart mouth of yours.”
I barely contain the moan that claws up my throat, and as badly as I want to come, I want to please him more. I want to give him the kind of pleasure he gives me every time he touches me.
“Do you like the sound of that, Wynter? Do you want my cock in your pretty mouth?” The words are quiet, but the menace behind them only serves to make my heart beat faster with excitement.
“Yes,” I admit.
“Back on your knees,” he demands and I fall to my knees as gracefully as I can manage. Despite years in the public eye, I haven’t quite mastered the art of grace. “Legs apart, I want your pussy so fucking desperate for relief it’s not going to get.”
Everett has been demanding before, but this is something else altogether. I almost want to say it’s harsh, but the way he looks at me, like I’m his entire world, I know that’s not the right word.
I do as he asks, pushing my thighs apart and the moment the cool air hits my already wet pussy is like an electric shock. I hope he’s joking when he says I’m not going to be allowed to come, because if that’s the case I’m going to be a dripping mess.
“Always so responsive to me, little dove,” Everett muses as he circles my kneeling frame like a lion circling its prey.
It’s not the first time I’ve compared him to a beast who could be the end of me, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. The man is pure power, his mind, his body, and his soul scream it, and who am I to argue?
“I’m not going to fuck your sweet pussy tonight,” he tells me and I hold back the whine trying to escape. “Don’t look at me like that. If you wanted to come all over my cock, you should have thought twice about talking back.”
I open my mouth to snap back but think better of it. I don’t want to prolong my denial. I’ve never been especially good at delayed self-gratification, and although Everett has made me wait for a little while before I’m allowed to release, I have a feeling he’s not fucking around on this.
He smirks. “Good choice, little dove.”
His hands move to his belt and I watch with rapt attention as the leather moves through the loops. The sight should probably make it hard to breathe after Craig, but for some reason Everett doing it only makes me want to rub my thighs together that much more.
“Are you okay for me to tie your hands with this?” he asks, holding his belt up in one hand.
My heart skips a beat as I wait for the panic to come, but it never does. If anything, it only adds to the excitement. “Yes,” I whisper.
A small smile pulls at his lips. He’s treading carefully around what he thinks may be my triggers, but if I’m really honest with myself, I don’t know if they apply to him. I trust him with everything I am, with my heart, my body, and every other part of me. He would never knowingly harm me, not in a way that is irreversible. Of course we both get off on my pain, but he’d never hurt me in a way that would break me.
All Everett has ever done is build me back up, and every move he’s making only proves that.
46
Everett
Pride blooms in my chest when she stares at the belt in my hand with heat instead of fear is, because if anyone else were holding it, she would be panicking. I know Wynter better than she knows herself, and I would put every dollar I have on that, but for some reason, she trusts me implicitly.
