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I’m breathing hard, too, my body aching with need.
“Whatever you want, babe,” I mutter, stroking my hand upward, brushing over her clit, making her flinch and tremble, over her belly, leaving a shiny trail of her essence, all the way up to her tits. I cup one in my hand. “Like this? Tell me what you want.”
“Yeah, like that.” Her voice hitches. “Now slap me. Slap my face.”
What the fuck? “Paxtyn…”
“Do it.” She turns her face away, bites her lip again. “Hard.”
Yeah, no fucking way am I hitting her hard. I know some women like to be overpowered, maybe even hurt a little, but breaking her jaw probably isn’t what she has in mind.
And I hesitate because she didn’t strike me like the kind to like pain.
As if I can tell by looking. Her gaze flicks to me when I don’t move, and her brows draw together.
Breathing out, I lift my hand and slap her face.
She shudders. “Harder.”
I lean closer, my hand on her breast clenching. “What are you trying to do, dammit?”
And then she starts to scream.
Startled, I jerk back, releasing her. “Paxtyn?”
“Stop!” she’s screaming. “Stop!”
“The fuck? I’m not doing anything.” My hands shaking, I reach for her wrists, to untie them, and she kicks at me. She knees me in the groin, and I roll back with a gasp.
Fucking ow. Thank God she didn’t break my dick. My balls, though, are another matter.
“What’s wrong with you?” I hiss. “Let me untie you.”
“Stop!” she’s still screaming.
Fuck.
Careful of her legs, I scoot to the side and untie one wrist. I expect her to punch me, or slap me, but she only curls her arm over her belly. Tears are running down her cheeks, her mascara leaving black tracks. I untie her other wrist, lower her hand into her lap.
“Paxtyn…” The urge to protect her from whatever is hurting her is overwhelming. I put an arm around her. “What is it?”
“Stop,” she says, her voice low and hard. “Damn you. Stop.”
I release her. “What have I—?”
“I told you to stop. Get out.”
Jesus Christ on a stick
. This girl’s nuts. Fucking lunatic. “Come on. I didn’t do anything you didn’t tell me to. And I stopped every time you asked me to.”
“Get out!”
Goddammit. I swear, if she calls the agency and complains about me…
I jump off the bed and gather up the bondage rope and the condoms, stuff everything back into the boxes, then grab my clothes and pull them on, so pissed off I almost rip my shirt.
Yeah, then what? What will you do, huh? Say she’s lying? Why should they believe you? So you’ve worked with them for two years, and that should count for something, but not with the new boss of the agency who doesn’t know you and doesn’t much like you, either.
