Page 7 of Cursed Wolfsbane

“I’ll tie you to my damn bed if I have to. You aren’t running, so make your choice.” Well, that’s one way to stop me. It’s a little over the top if you ask me—not that he is since Malachi seems content to control this situation. I growl at his overbearingness and try to turn to face him. He presses a warm hand against my bare back, preventing me from moving. “Choose,” he grits out.

I grind my teeth in frustration. Pain is the only thing that helps me clear my head and manage my emotions. With the panic lying in wait for the perfect moment to overtake me, I need something to distract me. Running gives me exactly what I need when I feel like this.

Unfortunately for me, I don’t think Malachi’s bluffing about tying me to the bed. I’d rather give in to his demands than be swallowed up by worry and guilt. Slapping my hands on the dark wood, I grind out, “Happy?”

“Almost. Bend over while keeping your hands on the door,” Malachi orders.

I hesitate, unsure what he wants me to do. Sensing that I’m confused, he tugs on my hips and guides me how he wants. My hands slide down the door as he pulls my hips back until I’m bent in a right angle. With my hands braced on the door, my hips are almost level with his dick. Of course my body perks up at that, not caring about all the turmoil going on in my mind.

I’m interrupted from my thoughts as Malachi starts to pull down my shorts. “What are you doing?” I squeak.

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just pulls my shorts and panties down my thighs. I don’t get a chance to say anything further before his hand cracks down on my right ass cheek. Hard.

I yelp in surprise as a little pain fizzles through me, a balm to my frazzled nervous system. I’m pretty sure the asshole just spanked me. I don’t hate it like I thought I would, not that I’ll tell him that.

Malachi huffs out a laugh before he finally answers my earlier question. “I’m spanking you. I’m surprised none of your previous boyfriends have spanked your ass with how much of a brat you are.”

“I’m not a brat!” I gasp, offended by him calling me one. I’m well-behaved when I choose to be. He lands another sharp smack to my other cheek, interrupting anything else I was going to say. His warm palm soothes away the sting before it can get too uncomfortable. When I finally find the words I was searching for, I inform him, “That’s probably because I haven’t had a boyfriend before.”

Malachi freezes behind me. He clears his throat before asking in a gruff voice, “Are you a virgin, Briar?”

“What? No! Why does everyone think that?” I wonder what about me screams virgin. There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin. I’m just not one. Even if I hadn’t fucked anyone before, I’m far from innocent. I haven’t been naïve about the way the world works since my mom was killed.

“Who the fuck else is asking you that?” Malachi rumbles, voice laced with possessiveness.

I smile to myself slightly. “Simmer down. It was just my sister.”

“Good,” he growls before giving me two more sharp spanks. My ass throbs painfully now, even with Malachi rubbing after each smack. The pain soothes something in me, probably what Patrick broke with his abuse. “So, you’ve had friends with benefits?”

I sigh, wishing he would just leave it. This is an awkward conversation to be having with my shorts and undies around my thighs and his handprint on my ass. “No. They were one-night stands.”

“How many?” he asks with another harsh swat.

I let my head hang down, savoring the burn. My tightly bunched muscles start uncoiling thanks to the pain. It’s probably messed up that hurting helps me relax. So often, being in pain has been out of my control. I hurt when Patrick decided I should. Choosing when and how to be in pain makes me feel more in control of everything in my life.

“I’m not answering that,” I say roughly.

“Then I stop.”

“No. Please.” My voice breaks, and I hate myself for stooping to begging him. Begging for anything just makes me feel weak and think of Patrick.

It’s been years since I begged Patrick. Even when he almost killed me, I didn’t beg him for anything. Doing it now causes all the beatings where I did beg to flash like a macabre movie in my mind. I screw my eyes shut while trying to block it out. With all my mental strength, I shove them back in the box they belong to.

“As much as I love hearing you beg me, no. I stop unless you answer my question.” Malachi keeps his word, only softly rubbing my ass cheek as he waits me out.

“Four,” I tell him from between gritted teeth. He rewards me with the hardest spank he’s delivered yet. I gasp, loving the pain and hating myself for loving it. Running’s a lot less complicated than whatever I’m doing with Malachi right now. There’s just pain, no thinking or overanalyzing.

“Good girl,” he praises. Liquid heat pools low in my belly at his encouragement. I like him calling me that way more than I probably should. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it? Why four?”

“What do you mean?” I’m not sure what he wants to know.

“Why four one-night stands? Why not more or less?”

I sigh deeply, letting my head droop further. My shoulders protest supporting the extra weight. “I hoped it would get better. Then I gave up hope.”

He spanks me, wordlessly telling me I did what he wanted. “You hoped what would get better?” Malachi questions carefully, probably wondering if I was using fucking as an escape from Patrick. I was to an extent, but that’s not what I was talking about.

I close my eyes, trying to hide from the embarrassment of his question. But I’m fucking addicted to the pain he’s giving me. I’ll answer anything he wants if he doesn’t stop. “The sex,” I croak.

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