Page 31 of Red Flag Bull

I make quick work of it, and then he steps in front of me, wearing only his black T-shirt. His thick cock points at me in accusation, glistening with my juices too. His voice is deep and husky when he lifts his shirt slightly, presents me with his thick, brutal manhood, and delivers his next command. “Again.”

I suck every lick of arousal from his cock, while he holds me by the hair and fucks my mouth.

He glares down at me, as I dribble and mess my face, doing everything I can to please him. I take him deep, and treat him as best I know how, begging him with my eyes to show me I’ve done well — to reward me with his pleasure, so I can drink it down and feel whole.

He snarls and pulls himself from my mouth. “You think I can come for you, after what you’ve done?”

The rejection strikes my heart like a whip. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, keeping my focus on the string of spit that still links me to his cock.

He crouches in front of me, and slides his fingers over the studs on the paddle, before he meets my gaze. “How sorry?”

“The most sorry there is,” I say without pause, wishing he could know how sorry I am that I couldn’t stay with him and live a completely different life from the one I’ve had.

“I believe you,” he finally says. He stands and walks away calmly. “I believe you want to take responsibility for your actions and the pain they caused. So… how many times should your ass feel my pain, Amanda? Tell me what you think is fair.”

I press my head to the leather bench and groan. Amanda. That fucking name. I don’t ever want to hear it from his lips again, but I can’t imagine he’ll call me by any other until he’s shown me how badly he still hurts.

I lift my head and stare straight ahead, bracing myself for the worst. “As many times as it takes for you to forgive me.”

“How many?” he shouts so loudly, I startle. I jump again when he brings the paddle down so hard on the leather bench beside me, the studs leave imprints. “How many strikes for having another man’s baby?”

I look up in alarm at his tone and shake my head, as tears stream down my face. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Oh? Then what was it like, Amanda?” he asks, holding his hand to his chest in some sarcastic gesture of apology for his mistake.

Then his face falls. He goes completely still, except for one twitching eye and the creeping red tide rising up his neck. “Did he make you do it?” he forces between his teeth. “Do I need to go peel his spine from his body?”

My pussy flutters at his unguarded words, as they reveal his lingering protective feelings for me. He still cares. I shake my head and open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off.

“So you provided him with offspring willingly? Because he was nice?” He practically spits the words. “Is that it? Or did you do it out of spite?” His voice turns cold and heartless. “You saw your sister happy and wanted to see how it felt, so you lured the man in and spread your legs for his seed.”

His eyes are wild, his nostrils flare with every exhale, and he’s gripping his paddle so tightly, his knuckles have turned white.

“Tell me all about it, Amanda.” He bares his teeth in an insane-looking grimace. “I’m dying to know what it was like, to fuck your sister’s husband and carry the man’s child, you mind-twisting, heart-breaking, soap-opera-worthy fucking brat.”

I’m barely able to work my jaw to form a response. I’ve never seen him this angry.

He wipes his arm over his mouth to clear the spittle produced by his rant, and his face is flushed with rage.

“It w-wasn’t mine,” I force out through my panic, but I have no volume. I pull at the chain securing my cuffs, and reach for my throat as I shake my head, to show him I’m trying to speak, but I’ve lost him.

His eyes are unseeing, as he turns toward the nearest wall and slumps against it. The paddle slips from his hand and clatters to the floor, and he slowly sinks to his knees. “I fucking loved you,” he whispers.

I rattle my chains and smack them against the bench. “Dingle-hammer,” I croak out, before I suck in the huge breath that’s been evading me. “Dingle-hammer,” I say more clearly. Loudly.

Jason pushes himself to stand and kicks the release lever on the chain before tugging roughly at the buckles on my leather shackles. “You’re right. That’s all the punishment I can handle today, too. You’re free to go, Mandi,” He pulls on his boxers and drags his feet to the stairs.

“It wasn’t my baby, Jason,” I call after him, hurrying to pull up my pants, so I can follow. “It was Luke and ’Cinda’s baby. Not mine. It wasn’t fucked into me; it was injected. And I didn’t do it because anyone made me. I did it because my sister couldn’t conceive, and I wanted her to love me. Okay? I was their surrogate.”

He slowly turns to face me, and I purge myself of the truth, for him to reconsider his judgment. “’Cinda had lost every fucking bun they tried to bake, and I couldn’t stand to see her so sad, so I loaned them my oven. It was something I could do, and it was a chance for me to finally do something right. For my family to see I wasn’t a completely useless fuckup. So ’Cinda would be able to look my way and not roll her eyes and sigh like Mom. I wanted her to love me.”

I lower my head and wipe my face, as I sniff. “But she didn’t. Not really. Not the way I care about her. And I know that’s my fault. I’m awful and hard to love, and I make bad choices when I’m hurting. I don’t know how to make people really care, Jason. You’re the only one who ever did, but I fucked that up, too. I don’t blame you for hating me, but I?—”

He grips my throat, pins me to the wall, and steps down, until our eyes are nearly level. “You did that for her?” he asks, watching me closely, as he slides his free hand over my breasts and down, to rest on my stomach.

“She was so sad.” I struggle to swallow under the pressure at my throat. “And it was something I could do.” I wince at how stupid I had been. “But it wasn’t enough.”

Jason releases me and pulls me into a big, warm hug that I can’t help but melt into. He smells so good, I want to burrow under his soft T-shirt — under his skin — and make him my home, but he’d only end up needing to cut me out when I caused irritation and festered.

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