Page 125 of The Pact

The moments feel longer than they are, but Damian eventually moves his hand from my neck and slides it up the back of my head. The feel of his fingers over my scalp sends a shiver through me. It’s interrupted when he fists my hair and yanks my head backwards. I gasp, entirely surprised by the harshness. “Is this what you want, princess?” He growls into my cheek.

I sift through my feelings—fear, pain, excitement, desire. Finally, I nod, the slight motion making my head sting.

His other hand travels up my thigh, over my ass, and onto my back. The gentleness of his caress contrasts against his firm grip on my hair. It’s only momentary because he shoves his palm into my spine, forcing my body to bend forward.

The railing pushes into my stomach and I lose my breath.

“What about this?” He asks. His voice laced with strain as if he’s holding back. Damian is letting me give him consent each step of the way, I realize. There may be much more he wants to do, however, he wants to make sure I’m comfortable—no, he’s making sure I want this.

I do. It’s not something I’d ever thought about wanting, but my body needs more and the wetness dampening me is a clear sign. Pushing my ass into his cock, I simply utter, “Mhm.”

“Fuck, Thea.” He sounds almost surprised. I wonder if he hasn’t met many women who would let him do this to them. Living in a small town, it’s likely he hasn’t.

Damian folds his body over mine and whispers, “It’s time for your punishment. For calling me good boy and for not listening when I told you to stay. Are you ready?”

I’m not sure if I am. I don’t know what it’ll be. This already feels intense. But I’m not a quitter—at least not yet.

“Yes, I’m ready.” I brace myself, although not even the expectation of it prepares me as the flat of Damian’s palm smacks my ass—hard. I let out a yelp. When the stinging subsides, I feel the familiar throbbing between my legs.

I try to straighten, thinking it’s over. Damian’s grip on my hair tightens as pushes my face back down. Tilting my head, I can just barely see him and the hand that he’s raising.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

My ass cheek is throbbing and sore by the time he’s done. My eyes are watering, but I don’t let myself cry. I should feel humiliated or furious or sad. I don’t. I feel turned on mostly, but beyond that I sense satisfaction and even lightness as if I’ve let go of something that was weighing me down.

Damian’s arms circle under mine from behind and he tenderly straightens me, turning me to face him. His eyes carry worry, like maybe he’s gone too far or thinks I regret saying yes. I didn’t tell him to stop, however, that didn’t mean that I liked it or didn’t fear him now. He needs me to tell him I’m okay, that we’re okay.

My hand runs over the rough stubble of his jaw and I give him a soft smile. It contradicts with the wetness brimming my eyes. “I’m good, Damian. I promise.” His shoulders slump, I hadn’t noticed how tense he was.

He pulls me in close and the unexpected intimacy surprises me. We’ve never touched like this before. Our interactions have always been wrung with sarcasm, frustration, lust, but never vulnerability, not like this.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he exhales, nuzzling into my hair. I wrap my arms around his neck, although this level of affection from Damian is still throwing me for a loop. He surprises me one last time.

His lips brush over my jaw, the softness of his touch sending little tingles through me, until he reaches my mouth and kisses me. I never believed the whole weak in the knees thing—that is, until this moment.

They simply start to give out on me. I melt right into Damian’s arms.

I expect him to slip his tongue in, to fist my hair again, or to press his cock into me, but he doesn’t. Damian just kisses me in the chastest of ways.

“Let’s get you back to the house. Ice will help with the pain,” he says, lightly rubbing the area he spanked. “You were such a good girl for me.”

My heart soars at the praise. I bite my lip and glance down. I think I understand the conversation I eavesdropped on a month ago. Damian wanted the others to pursue me first because he’s the most intense in what he wants.

The others pulled me in, exploring my willingness to match what each of them desires. Slowly testing my limits to see if I could handle Damian. Looks like I passed.

Damian’s standing in front of me, his fingers lingering on the button of my jeans. “I’m going to take these off, okay?” He’s seen me in a bikini, so there’s no need for modesty, but I appreciate this sweet side of him as much as his rougher side. I nod.

He pops the button, then drags down the zipper. Damian wets his lips and I notice his breathing picking up. I’m unprepared as he drops to the floor, his hands slipping into the band of my pants as he pulls them down. His eyes flick up to mine and something about looking down at him on his knees like this feels incredibly intimate. My heart speeds up and all I want to do is kiss him—wildly this time.

Damian removes my pants, one leg at a time until I’m only in my shirt and black thong. Turning me around, he runs his hands up the back of my thighs. My skin breaks out in goosebumps.

Peeking over my shoulder, I see eyes of admiration as his fingers brush over the red skin on my ass. “Beautiful,” he whispers. Then I feel him touch the spot on my thigh that I’ve memorized well. Wesley’s bite mark. “Wes got you good,” he chuckles. I sense pride in those words.

A rush of desire hits my core as flashes of our romp in the woods hit me.

“Lie down on your stomach,” Damian commands. I do as he says, stretching out over my bed.

He places the ice pack, wrapped in a damp towel, on me—the cold is shocking, yet feels good after a few seconds. I hear his footsteps as they shuffle around the room, then he’s standing in front of me.

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