Show me I belong to you.”
“You’ve always belonged to me,” he growled.
“Prove it,” I said in a low voice.
His head tilted. “Are you sure…”
“Do you want me on my knees?” I asked. “Do you want me to beg?”
His tongue flicked over his lower lip, and I knew that part of him did. But he shook his head.
I swallowed the scream of frustration trying to escape me.
“I will,” I threatened. “I will get down on this floor and beg until you fuck me, Price.”
He pressed his lips into a thin line. It took me a moment to realize that he wasn’t upset. He was trying not to smirk. “I thought you wanted me to dominate you.”
“Unbelievable!” I threw my hands in the arm, stomping back toward our bedroom feeling the hot prickle of tears. I sank onto the end of the bed, burying my face in my hands so he wouldn’t see me cry.
He didn’t want me. Not like this. Not like he used to. That or he’d managed to harness a supernatural level of restraint he’d never possessed before. Smith could control himself. He could fuck me for hours if he wanted. But resist me? That hadn’t been a possibility before.
“Go away,” I said miserably as he stalked into the room, but the words had barely left my lips when his fist closed over the rope, yanking my face up as he bent to capture my mouth. There was nothing gentle about his kiss.
“I don’t like it when you tell me how to play with you,” he said, his voice as rough as his hands as he jerked me to my feet. “I’ll play with you how I want to, beautiful, and you won’t complain. You’ll come when I demand it. You’ll offer me your pretty ass to punish. Right fucking now.”
I nearly came on the spot.
Smith loosened his hold on my leash only so I could turn.
“Bend over,” he ordered. “Hold the bed.”
I did as I was told. He slid the collar around so that the ropes were at the back of my neck. “If you can’t breathe, you will say red.”
I started to protest.
“Don’t fight me on this or I’ll fuck you until you’re about to come and then stop and make you do it yourself while I watch.” He bit my shoulder. “Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“That won’t be a hardship for me,” he warned. “Feeling you squirm and then watching you punish yourself. I might actually like it.”
I whimpered. Part of me wanted to push him, so I could put on the show he described. I wanted to be his every fantasy, I always had. But tonight I wanted to be owned and marked.
He lifted my dressing gown over my hips and patted my rear. His palm slid over it. “Perfect. Well, almost.”
I heard his hand whip through the air and then felt the crack as it collided with my soft flesh. Stinging heat seared through me, and I cried out.
“Now, it’s perfect,” he said appreciatively. He rubbed out the heat in the spot before delivering another smack. This continued until my skin sang without reprieve. “Your ass is so beautiful when it’s red. I love seeing the marks of my fingers and palm on it, especially while I fuck you. Would you like me to do that now?”
I mumbled a yes. My neck jerked back as he pulled the rope.
“What was that, beautiful?”
“Please, Sir,” I repeated more clearly, feeling a fresh rush of heat between my legs.
“First.” He released me and walked to the front of the bed. Picking up a stack of pillows, he stuffed them under me, helping me fold my arms around them. “For leverage. Don’t fight me on this. You two are the most precious things in the world to me.”
I swallowed, holding the pillows tightly. He always took care of me. He saw to every need, even the ones I didn’t know I had. And now, I was about to be his again. I bit back a sob when he moved behind me and positioned his dick against my seam.
“So fucking perfect,” he muttered as he slammed into me.
My eyes closed. I became a blank space, my existence distilled to the anchor of his cock inside me. This was everything I needed, everything I would ever need.
11
Smith
I prided myself on being calm in a crisis situation, but no one had warned me that child labor was not a crisis but a goddamn circus act. Despite having months to prepare, nothing seemed to be