Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“You won’t hit me. I know you won’t.” Even as I say the words, I realize that I’m actually not so sure.
The smile that graces his lips is so sinister, I visibly tremble. Danger crackles through the air, sparks of it igniting in my belly, telling me I should run, warning me of the danger ahead.
“If you don’t think I’ll hit you, maybe you haven’t been paying attention to what I am capable of.” His voice is so dark and rough, it almost doesn’t sound like him.
My mouth goes dry, and my whole body quakes. This time, not from the cold.
Just then, my flight instinct kicks in. The danger is real, and Quinton isn’t going to just let me get away with hitting him.
My eyes dart to the only exit in the room, and a second later, I try to dash past him to the door. He’s on me in a flash, wrapping his muscled arms around me before pulling me into his chest.
He drags me toward the center of the shower space, and I’m not sure what he is doing until he sits down and pulls me into his lap, leaving me draped over his knees with my ass up.
“What are you—” His palm connects with my ass cheek without warning, and a sharp yelp of pain erupts from my throat. “Fuck!” He slaps my ass again, and the burning sensation on my skin intensifies.
“Are you serious?”
“Very.” He chuckles.
His hand comes down a few more times, each time a little harder, or at least, it feels like it. I wouldn’t know since my ass is burning, and I feel humiliated being spanked by him.
“Okay, okay!” I shout, while trying to wiggle out of his hold. “I get it. I won’t hit you again. I’m sorry!”
“Are you, though? I think I better make sure.” His palm smacks against my tender flesh once more, and the pain brings tears to my eyes.
“I’m sorry. Please, stop!” I beg, and it’s either my begging or the tone of my voice that finally makes him take pity on me.
His hand lands on my ass one more time, and I flinch, expecting him to continue punishing me, but this time, his touch is gentle. Like Jekyll and Hyde, his behavior changes, and he goes from punishing me to massaging the aching flesh.
“Are you going to hit me again?”
“No…” I wince.
He lets go of me, and I scurry off his lap and stand on wobbly feet. I reach to touch my backside. The skin is hot to the touch and feels swollen. “I hate you.” I seethe.
Quinton grins like the fucking monster he is. “Maybe you do, but we both know you want me to fuck you, regardless of what I do to you.”
“No,” I snarl.
“You’re still a shitty liar.”
All over again, we’re facing off against each other.
“If I’m such a bad liar, then how could you not tell I wasn’t lying about the wire?”
“I have proof!” he yells.
“There is no proof,” I snap back without missing a beat. “There can’t be any because it never happened. Whatever you think you know is wrong. If I was wearing a wire, then why did no one know about Matteo attacking your sister?” I open my mouth again with more to say, but I’m cut off when Quinton’s hand wraps around my throat.
His grip is firm, controlling, and I know without very much effort, he could hurt me in a way that I would never come back from. Leaning into my face, he says, “You still don’t know when to shut up, do you?”
It’s stupid of me to poke the bear, but I’m angry and hurt, and the only outlet for my pain is the man who causes it all.
“And you don’t know when to be done, do you? I thought you were done with me, Quinton?” I smile even though on the inside I’m shaking like a leaf in autumn, seconds away from falling from the tree.
Fire flickers in Quinton’s eyes, and he walks me backward until my back hits the cold, tiled wall. It’s just him and me, and the open space suddenly seems smaller, everything closing in on me until there is just Quinton. He crowds me against the wall, his hand still wrapped around my delicate throat. There is nowhere else to go, no place to hide.
I’m a mouse caught in a trap, and Quinton is the cat, about to eat me alive.
18
QUINTON
She presses herself flat against the wall as if she can get away from me. In my time away from her, it appears she’s grown some balls, and strange enough, I like it. I like she pushes back against me. That she’s no longer the docile flower pushing up through the concrete.
The way she’s looking at me now, her pupils dilated, her lips trembling. There is fear in her gaze, but right below that, there is excitement, which is only confirmed by the way her nipples poke out at me like small diamonds.