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I watch as the cords in her throat tighten and she swallows, just at the end of the bed, almost out from under it. Her breasts are covered by her long curly hair, tangled from sleep. Even in this moment, with everything that’s happened, my cock hardens and aches for her as her naked body crawls to me.
“That’s my good girl,” I murmur, focusing on her gaze. “Come here,” I add and pat my thigh before was arranging my hand like before, in a way designed to make her feel safe.
She doesn’t make me wait long before pausing in front of me.
“In my lap,” I command her and she does as she’s told, fitting herself between my still-crossed legs, submissive to an extreme degree. Her breathing is anything but calm, and now that she’s in my lap, she struggles to look at me. She doesn’t lean against me and her gaze is glassy.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers and her voice hitches at the end. As she covers her mouth, I think to keep from losing it, I readjust, rocking my hips to tilt her into my chest, bringing my arms around her to comfort her. Her breasts press against my chest and I hold her there, running my hand up and down her back in soothing strokes.
Her relief is instant as she collapses against me, clinging to me like she did hours ago. I might be bad for her, I might terrify her, but I’m the only escape she has. She will learn that it is enough. I will be enough for her. “Shhh,” I hush her, resting mychin on her head as she leans her cheek against my shoulder. With a kiss to her temple, I hush her again.
It doesn’t take as long as I think it will to calm her.
“I’m sorry,” she says again, her body relaxing more with every passing minute.
“What is your safe word?”
She stills when I ask her, but she answers just the same, “Red.”
“I want you to use it more often … when conversations become difficult. Whenever you feel overwhelmed or in danger. At any point. It isn’t just for sex, you know this. You should have used it a moment ago. You know that, don’t you?”
She nods into my chest, but I pull her away to look her in the eyes, gently but with a firm hand. Staring into her deep brown gaze, I wait for her to truly look at me. “Tell me you understand.”
“I do,” she whispers and for the first time, there’s a flicker between us. Something raw and undeniable.
“Give me your hand,” I order, holding out my own. I don’t break eye contact and although her lush lips part and her chest rises and falls faster, she brings her left hand up and places it into mine.
“No, the one you struck me with.”
Her body tenses in my hold, but she does as I command. Slowly she maneuvers in my lap to place her right hand into mine. Our locked gaze never breaks, not even as I bring her fingers to my lips and kiss the tip of each one.
With her hand held in mine, I murmur, “You know you need to be punished, don’t you?”
She swallows thickly and I swear I can hear her heart racing even as my own quickens. “Yes,” she replies, barely getting out the word.
“If you ever did that in front of them …”
“I wouldn’t,” she says as if it’s a promise, the words tumbling out as she shakes her head refuting the claim.
“I think you would, Braelynn.” I’m quick to correct myself, adding, “I know you would. You’ve forgotten who owns you.”
With wide eyes she peers up at me. The look there is one I fucking love, one I would kill for to ensure it stays with her forevermore. Her expression is one of obedience, tinged with the desire to please me, to prove to me that she belongs to me. A warmth flows through me, one that satisfies every jagged edge of what’s happened. A balm that promises everything will be all right so long as she listens to me and so long as I teach her, punish her, and satisfy my little fuck toy.
“Yes, Declan,” she answers and with that I place her hand on my lap and bring my thumb to her lip.
Yesterday I would have thought it an impossibility to want her like I do now. To crave her begging for forgiveness and promising me her complete submission.
“Who owns you, Braelynn?”
“You do,” she answers immediately.
“Do you still want me?” I question and she tells me, “Yes, but I’m scared …”
“Of my brothers?”
“Yes,” she whispers but there’s a moment of hesitation.
“Of me?” I surmise.
