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The inner demon inside of me won't let me stop, though. "Not sorry enough, Jasmine."
Yanking her leggings down I caress her supple ass. She has some extra weight on her but that makes her even more delicious. Every time I slap her butt, it jiggles and reddens a bit more.
By the time I've given each ass cheek ten smacks, her skin has my handprint on it and my possessive thoughts turn deadly with the need to own this little girl. She needs guidance and someone to care for her. She yearns for it. Or at least that's how I see it.
Righting her leggings, I rearrange her so she is straddling my lap. I push her head down onto my shoulder, and I stroke her back as she cries. Fully belly sobs come from her, and the demon in me smiles. Fuck, I'm messed up.
"Are you going to be my good little one and tell me what I want to know?"
A soft hiccup comes from her, and she nods. "Yes, Sir."
The way those words slip from her lips is like a damn caress. I want to feel my cock inside of her as she calls me that. Fuck, now’s not the time for this.
Chapter Five
Snugglingintohisneck,I refuse to look at him. I shouldn't be snuggling. Hell, no. He spanked me and exposed my flawed skin. How could I let him do that? And why do I crave being in his arms so much? What I should do is push him away from me. Christopher is a monster. But I need to hide more than I need to get away. I'm ashamed of my past and how my arms always tell the story.
He says he wants to hear the story. I'm sure he's done worse. If after only being late, I get this kind of punishment, I can only imagine what he might do to me if I really defied him. "Tell me, buttercup."
"My real father did it," I say before I close my eyes and lunge back into his neck.
"Look at me when you are talking," Chris demands of me, and while I know he's not my father, it reminds me of him. I shake in his arms, but I force myself to sit up. To face him.
"What did he do, Jasmine?" His eyes are cold as steel, and his lips are in a grim line.
"Please, Mr. Groveton, don't make me tell you." Holding his gaze freaks me out, but I know I don't want to disobey him. I'm worried he's worse than my father was.
"Now, Jasmine." He keeps a harsh grip on my upper arms, keeping me from laying back down on him. I really want to hide.
"The first time was when I was seven. He, my father, was drunk and threw a bottle at my mom with me in her arms. She was carrying me to bed. The bottle shattered on my arm and cut me and my mom."
I'm gasping for breath at the memories flooding in my mind.
"Continue."
"I can't." I fist my hands into his crisp white button-down shirt.
Chris shakes me, and I gasp. "Don't hurt me." I whimper and his face morphs from hard to shock and back to hard again.
"Then do as I've asked, dammit." Those words come out in a fulminate tone, making me jump. I can't have someone else be mean to me. I've hidden the feelings, pain, and memories for years. Why is he being so mean to me?
"As I got older, father would beat me instead of mom. She got cancer when I was ten, and he took his frustrations out on me, ok?" My voice has risen into a shrillness that I can't stop. "Why couldn't you just be nice to me? I was looking forward to being around you. Hoping... hoping you'd mentor me. You're nothing more than a bully."
I yank myself out of his grasp, flinging myself from his lap, and run out of his office. "Jasmine!" he roars after me, and while I normally wouldn't take the stairs, I rush down them. There's no way I'm waiting for the elevator only to have him catch me.
"Get your ass back here." He's behind me, and I know if I don't get out of this building, he will do something bad. Something I'm not sure I could handle. Even my step-father doesn't know the story. Mom refused to tell him anything about our past and made him swear he would never touch me. Of course, David is a different breed. He's kind and gentle. He dotes on me and doesn't even raise his voice at me when I'm being bratty.
Chris is another story. Oh, God. A totally different story. I push my sleeves down and run all the way to my dorm. I'm grateful he didn't follow me. I am so very grateful. Taking a moment to catch my breath once I'm in the building's foyer, I lean against the wall.
How do I change my work-study assignment? How do I not run into Chris again? Why does he hate me so much? I saw it in his eyes. There wasn't any concern for me. Or even remorse over me being damaged. It was like looking into the pits of hell and seeing the devil looking back at me.
I muffle another sob as I enter my room. The night my mother stood up to my father for the first time and defended me plays in my mind. It was the only time she ever took up for me, and I know why. I'm still salty about my mother not doing something sooner, but I know she loves me. That's why she is the way she is now. The helicopter mom that has to know what's going on. Our past has changed us so much, but I thought I was done having to live in its shadow.
Three days go by, and I don't see Christopher anywhere. There was a note on his door the next day to sit with his assistant and to follow her instructions. He threatened me with expulsion if I gave her a hard time. The older woman is so nice and at such a different pace than Chris. It has been great working with her. There are things about an office setting I didn't know, which is always nice to learn about.
As I'm making copies, my phone goes off.
Tia:I'm obsessing over my coach.
