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That’s not what this is about right now, though, and the last fucking thing I need to do is indulge in my craving for Riley any more than I already have. Seeing my ex-girlfriend hanging all over Austin fucking McKenna tonight was a stark reminder of why it would be a bad fucking idea to get involved with anyone.
I attach the other end of the tie to the banister, knotting it tight in case Riley is tempted to fight what she’s got coming.
She doesn’t. She hasn’t said a word since she started to strip. Hasn’t asked what I’ve got in store for her or whined to try to get out of it.
The proof of how fucking strong she is just pisses me off even more.
This didn’t need to happen. She should have held it fucking together.
I slip my belt off and finally get a reaction. The smallest flinch.
“Stay still,” I warn her, putting my hand between her shoulder blades when they tense up. I push her forward. “Brace yourself.”
I don’t give her any more warning than that, because that’s how life works. A bullet doesn’t come with a warning, and pain is fucking inevitable.
I can feel Dante and Logan behind me, silent sentinels bearing witness as I crack the belt against her heart-shaped ass, the sound like a gunshot.
She lurches forward, a pained cry escaping before she cuts it off with a snap.
“One,” I growl, dragging in a breath.
“Two.” I belt her again. “Three.”Fuck, she takes it well. “Four… five.”
The red stripes are a beautiful contrast to her pale, silky skin, but even though she pants with ragged, choppy breaths under each strike, she doesn’t cry out again.
Until I get to six.
I belt her again, my blood hot from the exertion as anger and protective fear churn inside me, and I finally get another sound. She swallows it down on a gasping moan, her head dropping low as she lets her bound arms take more of her weight.
My hand freezes for a moment, shock rippling through me.
Is she…?
Yes. She is. With her legs spread and that perfect little ass thrust out for me, I can see it. Hell, I can smell it. She’s wet. Her pussy is exposed and swollen, soft and inviting between her trembling thighs.
This is fucking hurting her, as it should, but it’s doing a hell of a lot more than just that.
“Seven,” I grit out, letting the belt crack against her again as my cock hardens, the line between doling out pleasure and pain blurring as my need to punish her merges with something else. “Eight.”
This time, she groans, so quietly I can barely hear it.
Then she pushes her ass back for another.
“Nine,” I grunt, giving it to her.
The atmosphere in the room becomes charged, and I’m not just hard. When I swing my arm for the last one, I almost fucking come.
“Ten.”
She sags against her restraints, gasping and exhausted, and I drop the belt. It hits the floor with a clatter, but I barely hear it, my gaze still locked on the woman in front of me. It’s taking all of my restraint not to gather her into my arms right now, to soothe the sting of the belt with my tongue and to give her the orgasm I know she’s so fucking close to right now.
I crave her like a goddamn drug, more strongly and undeniably than ever before—not just because of how beautiful she looks right now, but because I’ve never met anyone like her. Never met someone who could take everything I can dish out and still want more.
But I’m the leader of the Reapers. I put the no-fucking-her rule in place for a reason, and it applies to me as well as to my brothers. I can’t give in to what I want any more tonight than I could yesterday.
So I untie her, resisting the impulse to pull her close and murmur words of praise and encouragement at how well she did. To soothe her and kiss every inch of her flushed face as I breathe her in.
“Go upstairs,” I say instead, pocketing the tie I used to restrain her.
