I took the elevator up and went inside. My heart stopped. Dominic stood there with a note one hand and a lighter in the other. He flicked it on and let the piece of paper burn almost to his fingertips before dropping it in the trash can. Then he turned around to look at me with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes.
Oh, dear. This doesn’t look good.
“I … I …” I stammered. Why was he here? He shouldn’t have been. Work wasn’t over yet. Did something happen?
Shit, I didn’t see this coming.
“I know you went outside, Julie. No excuses. You didn’t ask for my permission.”
“I’m sorry, Dom,” I said, walking closer to him, but he held up his hand, demanding me to stop.
“We’re in my house. These are my rules and you’re to abide by them. You didn’t, so you know the consequences.”
With a menacing stride he stomped to me, his eyes blazing with anger. I stumbled back, but he grabbed my wrist just before I could turn around. His grip was strong and harsh, burning into my skin, while he dragged me across the floor. Stopping right before the couch, he pushed me forward so I fell down over the arm rest.
“Dom, please, I didn’t mean to!” I yelped.
He jerked down my pants with fierceness, the buttons giving away. My butt was fully exposed and when his hand came down it wasn’t like the times before. It was painful and agonizing. Shameful.
“You know the price for disobedience,” he lashed out. “You went outside without my permission.”
My face was buried into the leather. He held my arms down as he towered above me. I cried out each time he smacked me. The slaps sizzled after on my aching skin. After his hand came down on me ten times, I didn’t feel the pain anymore. All I could feel were the tears stinging in my eyes, the sudden feeling of unfairness. Why was I punished so severely for craving something?
When he stopped slapping he released my arms. I just lay there, my hair gently falling over my red, wet face. My eyes were swollen, so I closed them. I didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to look at anything besides the hollow insides of my eyes. The blackness was the only comforting thing I knew.
Block it out.
I heard him breathe heavily; taking in gasps as if he’d just run laps like me. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t stop the sound from entering my ears. I heard his feel shuffle back. It was quiet for some time, except for my snivels. Then he treaded closer.
I flinched and drew back when his hands reached for my face. I expected vicious punishment, but instead he cupped my face gently. I leaned on my elbow meeting his gaze. It was tender and filled with tears he wouldn’t let out.
What? What was wrong with him? Why was he the one almost crying? He’d hurt me!
Dominic moved a strand of hair from my moist face and tucked it behind my ear. He looked down at the carpet for a moment, biting his lip. He was mulling over something, I could see it.
“I’m sorry …” he whispered. He sniffed and brushed his hand through his hair, blowing out a long sigh.
“Come,” he said, and he took my hand and pulled me up from the couch. I staggered to stand, while he lifted my legs and took off my pants completely. I was shivering, not from the cold, not because my lower half was naked, but from fear.
He guided me up the stairs in complete silence, his face smooth and unwavering when he looked at me as he showed me into the bathroom. He closed the door behind us and I stood there, shaking. His hand brushed along my shoulder, but it felt distant and I was afraid of his touch.
He hesitated when he reached my breasts as he moved down my shirt, then he carefully unbuttoned it. Draping my clothes off me, he kept standing behind me, his touch lingering, just like I knew his gaze was.
I swallowed back the tears. I didn’t want him to see my weakness. I couldn’t show it to someone who was so rough and brutal.
Dominic walked past me and turned on the shower. He took off his own clothes until he was completely naked, and then beckoned me to come to him. I could see his taut flesh, the muscular pectorals, the veins pulsing under his skin. Normally I’d be turned-on seeing him like that, but now I knew those muscles were dangerous, too.
He reached for my hand and pulled me into the shower with him. The hot water falling down on my skin didn’t soothe the aching beneath my flesh. Even if the marks would fade, my pain would not.
His bright blue eyes were skimming my face, but I felt emotionless, sucked dry. He grabbed a bottle of soap and squirted it onto his hands. He rubbed my back and smoothed across my painful butt, being gentle on my sore skin. I could feel it was red from the burn.
He massaged the soap over my body, but it wasn’t sexual at all. It was almost as if he tried to take care of me.