Page 47 of Scorch

“Yeah,” he says in a low voice. Everything about him is so heavy and big and masculine, even his voice.

“What time is it?”

“No idea. Time when you should still be sleeping, anyway.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

I feel him tense beside me before he sits up, tossing the covers to the side. My heart leaps into my chest.

What the hell?—

“That’s it,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ve had it. I’ve been as understanding as I possibly could be with you, Lydia.”

I stare, my jaw unhinged, as he reaches for my wrist. I pull away, but I don’t stand a chance against a man as big and as powerful as he is. “I am done.”

I gasp as he sits heavily on the bed and drags me over his lap.

“What the hell?” I protest, even as my pulse skyrockets. “Viktor, what the fuck?—”

His hand slams against my backside hard and fast.

“I’ve been gentle. I’ve been understanding,” he continues, as his palm connects against my skin. My cheeks flame, but there’s something about the way he overpowers me that sends arousal coursing through me. I can hardly speak or think as heat blossoms in my belly, and a delicious warmth spreads between my legs.

I want to see what he does when I protest. When I fight him. When I don’t cave and roll over and show him the underside of my belly.

So I kick. I claw at his legs and yell, throwing my head back and hollering with everything I’ve got.

“You son of a bitch! You bastard. Let me up, or I’ll scream!”

He fists my hair, gathering the crazy lot of it in his massive hand before he tugs my head back. “Do it. If you don’t scream, I’ll get my belt and whip your perfect, pretty little ass until you do.”

“You bastard!” I scream. “Let me up!” I scream until I’m hoarse and my ears are ringing, earning me a low, dark chuckle from my captor.

“That’s what I was hoping for,” he says approvingly. In one fell swoop, he divests me of my clothes and bares my ass to him. The feel of his hot, heavy, calloused palm on my screaming hot backside sends bolts of arousal to my lady parts. My mouth is dry, and if he were to touch me right now, he’d find me sopping wet.

Something deep, deep inside me I can’t quite decipher whispers with delicious satisfaction… this.

This.

Him.

This.

I want to be taken. I want to be controlled. I want to be dominated and pushed, and when I push the fuck back, I don’t want him to crumple.

His palm slaps hard against the underside of my thigh, and it stings way worse than it did before. I whimper and squirm, trying to get away, but he pins me in place and spanks me again.

My breath catches in my throat, a mixture of fear and defiance surging through me. I struggle against him with everything I’ve got, my hands pushing at his strong, sturdy thighs, my body twisting in an attempt to break free. I almost actually wriggle out of his control, but he catches me, pins me in place, and growls, “You naughty little thing,” before he gives me three hard, stinging slaps in rapid succession.

“Viktor, no!” I scream, my voice trembling, even as a part of me thinks Yes, yes, THIS.

But his strength is overwhelming, his grip like iron as he holds me in place. Without a moment’s pause, he brings his hand down on my naked ass again, the sharp crack of the spank echoing in the room and mingling with my cries.

We’ve been dancing on the periphery of something, and I didn’t know what until this.

I fight harder, my struggles becoming more frantic, and somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind, I think I should tell him to stop, but I don’t want to. It hurts like fuck, and I’m humiliated beyond belief, but I’ve never, in my entire life, been more turned on than I am now.

When the spanking continues, my defiance begins to wane, replaced by the utter need for pleasure.

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