I’m sure that my eyes are burning. This is so fucking humiliating. I’m naked, the collar tight around my neck as I kneel on the hardwood of his living room floor. He sits back in that fucking chair, making a mockery of my fantasies.
He looks at me over the paperback. “Is this what you read all year? Stories about,” he peers, reading the cover, “bad boys with ten-inch cocks? Slave.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?” He inclines his head.
“Yes, Sir.” I place as much contempt into Sir as I can.
“Why?”
Asshole.
“You know why.”
He shrugs, still wearing that maniacal grin. “Tell me.”
“I was lonely,” I mutter to the room.
The book snaps shut, and he holds it in both hands, leaning over his legs. “You were, weren’t you?”
He knows damn well that I was celibate for a year.
“Did you imagine me when you read this nasty shit?”
God, yes.
“Crawl to me.”
My knees screaming, I crawl forward, my bare ass in the air. Luc watches me with his bottom lip partially sucked into his mouth. I can see the outline of his cock growing against his jeans as he watches me. What kind of man does this to a woman and enjoys it? Finally I stop at his feet and sit back on my heels, looking anywhere but his face because I’m afraid I’ll say something stupid.
“Did the bad boys in these books remind you of me?”
Yes.
“No.”
An uncharacteristically dark tone creeps into Luc’s voice. “Don’t lie to me.”
I glance at him, noticing how rigid his limbs are. Another bump of fear hits my heart. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s what I thought.”
The arrogance in his voice sets off another flare. Then it deepens with a velvety quality and the leather squeaks as he leans forward. “All this time, you were reading these filthy books that reminded you of me. I looked through the shit we brought from your apartment. You kept all the jewelry, too. Why?”
Don’t answer.
“If I’m such a piece of shit, why did you keep everything I gave you?”
My brain freezes. I can’t answer him. I don’t want to open up to him. I stare down at the floor, studying the grains of the wood. His words twist something already knotted in my chest, winding me up. Then he reaches forward, touching my chin, and I finally look at him. It’s too much to sit this close to him, completely naked while he watches me, his hair falling into his eyes, covering up his scar. One touch and I’m helpless. He’s the man who made my life hell, but he also gave me my son.
His face hovers in front of mine, and I lock on to his lips. Hot breath billows over my mouth, and I feel that stirring in the bottom of my stomach. Light fingers grasp my chin, and I feel the heat spreading over my skin like tiny, hot needles. My eyes close, and as soon as they do, my heart thumps loudly.
“Deep down, you can’t help but want me.”
I want him to close the distance between us and feel him all over me again, his hands caressing every inch of skin. Only his hands, his body, his cock. We used to fuck every day, sometimes twice, and we never got enough of each other.
I could never escape him. For weeks I practiced telling him that I wanted to stop running cash through the casino. Then I would see the smile that would light up his face whenever I came into the room. He was so proud to have me as his girlfriend. I was addicted to the way he made me feel. He treated me like his queen. I didn’t want it to stop.
He pauses, centimeters from my lips, and then he chuckles. The warmth recedes and the hand drops from my face. I open my eyes to see that he is sitting back into his chair.
“Stand up. Dance for me.”
“Dance?”
I hate dancing.
“Yeah.”
It’s a fucking joke.
“I’m not doing it.”
Suddenly my neck is yanked forward again by his finger looped around the metal ring. I fall over his knees with a yell as something whistles through the air.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Three brutal slaps hit my left ass cheek in quick succession. I cry out in pain as the nasty burn spreads. It hurts so fucking bad that tears spring to my eyes.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
My muscle spasms as he brings his hand down hard, pain exploding over my skin. Then he lays his palm over my ass, kneading me gently. His other hand keeps the metal ring looped around his finger, the slight pressure on my throat dizzying me. I’ve never been treated like this in my life. I don’t know what to think—I’m stunned by it, pain still radiating over my skin. I don’t want him to do it again. Do I?
“Are you going to keep arguing with me?”
His voice is like gravel.