Page 63 of Breaking the Code

I bury my face in the pillow as he inspects his handiwork. Embarrassment floods my face, making me grateful for the pillow.

Draven pokes and prods at my hole. He reaches toward my nightstand, pulling something out. He comes back and presses his fingers inside me, massaging my hole. The initial burn turns into a cooling sensation, and the raw feeling fades.

“Ow!” I shout as one pain in my ass is replaced by another. His big ass hand landed on my butt cheek.

I twist to glare at him, and he shoves my face back into the pillow. He tucks it under my cheek, exposing half my face. His big hand, the same one that probably left a print on my ass cheek, lifts into the air and before I can even suck in a breath to brace myself, it drops.

The lift and fall is like watching one of those rides at an amusement park. The one where they tie you to bungee cord, raising you in the air slowly, leaving you there to contemplate your fate and, when you least expect it, they let you go.

Draven’s hand makes the journey over and over. Raising and lowering again and again. All I can do is watch. And cry. My cock comes back to life, pulsing and throbbing as tears rain down my face.

I can hear my voice making sounds. The gasps and moans meld together into a litany of pain and pleasure, the likes of which I’ve only ever read about. This is what I’ve dreamed of. Now that I have it, though, I’m not sure I want it.

At least not until his hand crashes into my backside one last time, hitting some spot that lights up my world and my soul takes flight. My cock spurts untouched, and I feel Draven’s hot breath in my ear as he grabs the abused cheek and squeezes it.

“Consider that yer punishment for not following my orders since that arse o’ yers distracted me from giving ye what I’d planned.”

Still gasping and crying, I roll over, rubbing my cheek and glaring at him. My bottom lip rolls out in a pout. He grabs my chin, pulling my face to his. Our noses brush against one another as he stares into my eyes. His gaze drops to my mouth, and he takes it in a punishing kiss.

When he releases me, he growls, “Ye are to eat—real food, Tavish. Regular meals, nae junk. Ye must fuel yer body, or ye will work yerself into the ground.”

I frown at him. My ass still smarts.

“Do ye understand me, mo ghille?”

“You still haven’t told me what that means.”

“My boy. And before you ask, lilla du means little one. Now, answer the question. Do ye understand me, Tavish?”

Lips purse further into a pout as I nod at him.

“Words, lad.”

“Yes. I understand.”

“Yes, what?”

I sigh as resignation and defeat roll over me. “Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s a good boy, lilla du. Go shower. Then ye can check on yer tech toys.”

“They’re not toys,” I grumble as I stand up from the bed. I step toward the bathroom and then stop to glance at him over my shoulder. I smirk when I catch him staring at my ass.

Probably at his handprints. I can still feel burning on my cheeks.

I shake my ass at him as I continue toward the shower.

“Ye might as well save that for another day. There’ll be nae more poking done tonight.”

I know he’s right. I’m not sure I can take another pounding like the one he just gave me.

After a shower, I dress in the softest pants I can find, pulling them up over the manties I considered foregoing for a split second. Planting myself in front of my computers, my breath rushes out audibly as my ass makes contact with the chair.

Fuck me, that hurts.

I sneak a glance over my shoulder at the man behind the pain in my ass. Draven is standing behind me in the shadows. I don’t know why he doesn’t sit on the couch. The only time he sits on the couch is when I sit there. If he is eating with me, we eat at my desk.

When he first started hovering behind me, it weirded me out, but I’ve gotten used to it. Somewhat. Sometimes, it still rattles me, but unlike before when I was being watched, I know he is there to protect me, not hurt me.

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