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I drop my chin until my nose bumps hers; she winces.
"You can’t even look me in the eye, and you say you’re ready to accept the repercussions of what you did, huh?" I scoff.
Her chin wobbles, then she seems to get control of herself. "You took me by surprise just then; that’s all it was."
I laugh.
She pales further, then tips up her chin. "You don’t scare me."
"You should be scared. What I have in mind is not something you’re going to enjoy."
"Do your worst, asshole. After what you said and did earlier, nothing you do can be worse."
I run my nose up her cheek, and she shivers.
"You have no idea, do you? Spoiled mafia princess, brought up in the lap of luxury, what do you know of the depravities I can unleash on your body?"
"Whatever it is, I can take it."
I blink, then pull back and look into her eyes. "You have spirit, I’ll give you that. But don’t tell me I didn’t warn you."
Her throat moves as she swallows again, but her gaze is determined. "If this is what it takes to get past what I did to you, then so be it."
"You sure?” I search her features. "Once I start, I won’t stop."
"Which will be when? All I’m hearing are words and—" She gasps, for I’ve released her long enough to turn her over on her knees. I flatten my palm on the small of her back and apply enough pressure that she leans over. She grabs the headboard again, and the sight of her fingers, once more curled around it, sends goosebumps over my skin.
To be fair, I thought I’d fuck her and move on, but when she suggested I punish her, something flipped inside of me. That part of me I prefer to keep hidden from the world, especially the likes of polite socialites like her, roared forward. Oh, I’m still going to fuck her, alright, but first… I’m going to play with her. I’m going to satisfy my base instincts and that will make this entire process so much more pleasurable for me.
I position her so she’s stretched out with her cheek pushed into the pillow and her arse high in the air.
She grasps the headboard tightly enough that the skin stretches white across her knuckles. Her back is curved, her hair flowing over her face and eyes preventing her from seeing what I’m up to.
I push off the bed and the mattress bounces. She flinches. "Where are you going?" Her tone is high pitched, and the fear that oscillates off of her sends a pulse of satisfaction through me.
I prowl around her bedroom, opening drawers until I find what I need; then pivot and stalk back toward her. I lean over, knot her scarf about her wrists, then secure it around the headboard.
She glances up. "Wh-what are you doing?"
"You don’t get to ask the questions."
I wrap the second scarf around her eyes, and she stiffens. "This isn’t what I agreed to."
I pause. "Do you want me to stop, Abby?"
She swallows.
"Do you?"
She slowly shakes her head.
"Say it aloud so I can hear you."
She draws in a breath, then whispers, "I don’t want you to stop."
"I can’t hear you."
She tosses her hair back from her face. "I don’t want you to stop, you—" I knot the scarf behind her head, and her breath stutters.
