Toxic - Zoe Blake Page 0,28
validation by forcing his hand repeatedly? Forcing him to prove his love? And yet, also from the beginning, he had done nothing but support my career efforts, shower me with gifts, and give me his undivided attention and affection.
It was me.
I was the puppet master.
I was the cruel one taunting him and playing with his mind.
Richard took a step back and shrugged out of his dinner jacket before loosening the knot on his tie and pulling it free from his shirt collar. Next, he twisted his cufflinks free. I heard the small ping as each sterling and sapphire link carelessly hit the floor of the train car. Keeping his hard gaze pinned on me, he unbuttoned his shirt before tugging it free of his trousers. Fisting the fabric between his shoulder blades, he pulled the shirt over his head, exposing the tanned, hard, muscled expanse of his chest.
Then, keeping his wicked gaze trained on me, he slowly undid the buckle of his leather belt and pulled it free.
Like prey caught in a trap with nowhere to run, I watched and waited for his pounce.
“You like playing with fire. It gets you off. The power you hold over me.”
“Richard. No. I don’t. I’ll stop. I promise,” I beseeched, as I raised my hands in some pathetic attempt to try to keep the rising tide of lust and anger at bay.
“It’s too late, baby girl. You wanted the beast. Now you’ve got him.”
His arm shot out and snatched me by the front of my dress.
“Don’t!” I screamed.
Too late. He tore the bespoke garment from my body, shredding the delicate tulle material. Large embroidered flowers fell limply at my feet. It left me in only a thong and my strapped stilettos. Snaking an arm around my waist, he pulled me against the heat of his naked chest and claimed my mouth for his own. His tongue dueled with mine. The taste of him burned of scotch and rage.
Once more he placed a hand at my throat, just under my jaw, forcing my head back so he could feast. He laved and bit at the delicate skin along my neck and shoulder then his hands clawed at my back, straining to pull me even closer, to fuse our bodies.
Everything was him. The feel of his mouth. The strength of his hands on me. The spicy scent of his cologne. The scrape of stubble from his jaw against my breast as he sucked a nipple in deep, playing with it with the tip of his tongue.
Picking me up, my legs straddled his waist as he turned and walked down the aisle till he got to a grouping of four seats facing each other with a table in between. I thought he would place me on the table, but he lifted me up and placed me on my knees on the seat. Using his knee, he dislodged the table, sending it crashing to the floor.
Grabbing my hair, he turned me around till my back was facing him. As he ran the flat of his hand along my back, I arched and mewed as I pushed my hips out. I had no warning before I felt the sting of his palm.
“Ow!”
Again and again, he spanked my ass. His grip on my hair kept me in position. The rough fabric of the train seat rubbed at my knees as I squirmed with each strike. As the tears fell down my cheeks from the burning hot pain, his fingers toyed with the strap of my thong before viciously tearing it free of my body. I cried out as the lace roughly scraped against my already swollen clit.
In the silence of the train car, all that could be heard was his harsh breathing… then the sound of him lowering his zipper. That simple sound reverberated down my body like a gunshot, sending a rush of heat between my legs.
Just then, he stepped away from me. Not for one moment did I think to move even a muscle.
I knew better.
When he returned, I could smell lemon verbena. At first, I was confused, then my eyes widened with alarm. Twisting, I covered my ass with my hand as I tried to beg, “Please, Richard. I’m sorry for running! I’m sorry for not telling you about the bird! I’m sorry about everything.”
Driving his fingers into my hopelessly tangled curls, he leaned in close and snarled, “Take your punishment.”
In horror, I watched as he squeezed the contents of my small lotion bottle onto his