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"Not a game, baby; this is my life."
"Whatever—" She raises a shoulder. "And I appreciate the crash course you afforded me by buying me those spicy books, all of which I've read, by the way. And I understand, somewhat, what you like. In fact, I’ll be the first to admit, I don’t mind playing along… Up to a certain limit."
No limits. No safe words. You’ll do as I say. You’ll take my cock as I deem fit to give it to you. In your mouth. Your pussy. Your arse. One after the other. And you’ll take it. You’ll take it and be happy, and when I’m done, you’ll thank me for having given you my attention.
"Do you want to leave?"
"What?"
"Do you want to go back to the house? I’ll have Rick take you."
"And where will you go?"
"I won’t fuck another woman,"—I place my foot over the knee of my other leg—" if that’s what you’re worried about."
She sets her jaw. "But you’ll go to the Club and watch other women being fucked."
"Does that bother you?"
"Of course, it bothers me, youstronzo. You just told them you love me. Next thing, you’re turning up at the Club and watching some other woman being railed. If you think that doesn’t bother me, you don’t know me."
"Jealous, Rabbit?"
"Not jealous. Possessive." She plants her palms on her hips. "But you know what? Forget it. You go do what you want, and I’ll go find someone else who can give me whatIwant." She turns on her heels and stalks off toward the dressing room.
"The fuck?"Did I hear that right? Did I hear her say she’ll find someone else? It’s going to happen—eventually.My stomach tightens. My guts churn. I shove the sinking feeling in my chest aside and jump to my feet. "Don’t you move another step."
She snorts, then raises her middle finger over her shoulder.
A-n-d, that’s it. She’s done it now. My vision tunnels. Adrenaline laces my blood. I stalk over to the dressing room, shove the curtain aside, and step inside to find her meeting my gaze in the mirror.
"Doesn’t feel good when I throw your words back at you, huh?" She scoffs.
"I told you I wasn’t going to fuck another woman."
"And I told you I was going to find someone else who’d give me what I want. I’m not going to indulge in penetrative sex, either, if that’s what’s bothering you."
"It doesn’t bother me," I lie through gritted teeth.
"Okay." She begins to unzip her over-the-knee, fuck-me, heeled boots.
"Leave them on," I snap.
"The heels are too high to wear on a daily basis."
"But they're the perfect height for you to lean over and grab your ankles when I fuck you."
35
Solene
I freeze, then slowly straighten. This time, when I meet his gaze in the mirror, I flinch. Those blue eyes have turned into frigid chips of ice. His gaze is sharp enough to cut through my skin, and pierce through any barriers I might have erected around my feelings. His jaw tics. His left eyelid twitches. He looks pissed. Very pissed. So pissed, I’m surprised he hasn’t grabbed me and turned me over his knee and spanked me.
Goosebumps pop over my skin. And oh, god, I’d like that so much. Too much. There’s no redemption for me. I wasn't lying when I said I don’t want him to treat me like a whore. I just want to be treated like I'm his whore. His slut, who takes any punishment he bestows on me, and asks for more.
When did I turn into such a masochist? How did he loosen that part of me and allow it to rise to the surface? How did he know how much I wanted to be possessed by someone as strong, as forceful, as dominant as him? And how long can I keep up this pretense of not wanting everything I sense he can do to me? Everything he’s mentioned, as well as everything I've glimpsed in his eyes, but which he's never voiced to me. How long can I hold onto that part of me I refused to give up through all the years I was controlled by my family? Isn’t this just another kind of subjugation, though? So, why do I crave it so much?
"You can turn around and leave now, but if you stay, I’ll take it that you want what I’m going to do to you."
