Page 43 of His Captive Pet

The leash snapped on, and he hauled her up to her feet. But the balance only lasted a moment before she was back on the stump, facing the grass again.

Struggling did nothing. With too much ease, he pried apart her ass cheeks and pushed the plug back in place. The lubrication he’d smothered it in helped but didn’t make the entry less difficult.

Without a word, he shoved her to the ground and started walking, pulling on the leash to get her to move. She wanted to stand, to pull back on the leather strap, but he wasn’t talking. He wasn’t even looking back at her.

This was worse.

He walked her around the cabin to a large kennel. She stopped crawling and dug in her hands to yank back. She wasn’t going in that thing. No fucking way.

She gripped the leash with both hands and pulled back, throwing her weight away from him, trying to stop him.

He pulled her. Thin sticks poked at her and dirt smeared across her skin as he dragged her naked body along the grass to the kennel.

“No. No.” She fought when they’d reached the open gate, and he reached for her. She clawed and shook and pulled, like the animal he treated her. She wasn’t going in there. She wouldn’t be locked up. No fucking way.

“Didn’t ask, sweetheart.” His voice was even, unrelenting, and cold. Lifting her and pushing her into the cage didn’t exert any energy from him. She might as well have been a bag of rice.

Aubree rolled into the kennel, her hip hitting the ground when he shoved her through the door. As quickly as she could scramble to her feet, he had it shut and locked.

“No.” She gripped the fencing and shook it, metal clamoring against metal.

He tucked the key into his jeans. “I gave you every chance. When you’re ready to cooperate, you let me know.” He pointed to the window of the cabin the kennel was pressed up against. His bedroom window.

The name danced on the tip of her tongue, but she knew it wouldn’t matter. If she gave him the name, it wouldn’t solve anything. It would only make the mess bigger. And she wouldn’t hide behind him.

Pressing her forehead against the metal cage, she slapped at it and screamed, “I hate you!”

He folded his arms over his chest, his large muscles displayed too well with his short-sleeved shirt.

“No, sweetheart, you don’t.” The softness of his voice sounded like electricity hitting a metallic roof. She didn’t want his tender side. “You hate what’s going on. You hate that I’m pushing you past your comfort zone.” He stepped to the fence, curling his fingers around hers. “You hate that you are going to have to let someone help you, and you hate that you can’t stop from wanting to let me.”

She blinked, letting the brimming tears fall.

After a stretch of heavy silence, he gave her hands a squeeze and walked away. She watched him move. Each step smooth and calm.

He left her in the kennel. With the anger starting to fade into an annoying white noise, she could feel the tail stretching her, could feel the burn from the spanking, and she could feel the heat in her pussy.

She’d woken up with the resolve to make him understand. To convince him to let her handle things her way.

It wasn’t going as planned.

Chapter Sixteen

Blake paced the living room. Only once before had he paced. One time in his whole fucking life. The day his parents had been shot. He’d paced the hospital hallway, waiting to hear from doctors or police or anyone who could give him a goddamn answer as to the state of his family.

He’d been gone for nearly ten years doing his tours in the military. The last time he had seen his parents, everything was normal. Greg was starting high school, and the store his parents owned was staying in the black. He didn’t ask for more than that.

Then he’d been called out of a meeting by his commanding officer, and he’d jumped on the first flight from Dallas to Chicago. All the pacing hadn’t gotten shit done, but it had helped to move. To take control of the anger building up in his chest.

And it was doing the same thing now. He’d lost it with Aubree. No. Not lost it. He had full control of himself as he spanked her. Fuck, he spanked her hard. Harder than he planned, but her relentless stubbornness wouldn’t even let her give over then. He thought of stripping off his belt and laying into her with the leather strap, but it wouldn’t matter. He didn’t want to break her; he loved her exactly as she was.

He paused. Looked around the living room.

Fuck. He loved her.

Hell, he’d known he had feelings for her. He didn’t need to work the floor at the bar, but whenever she came in, he found reasons to be out there. Talking with her made the day more endurable. The entire reason he had gone so off the walls about the dog fights was because he felt something for her. But love?

He was screwed. If he loved her when she behaved so stubbornly, so damn myopic, how much worse would it get when she started to see the reality of the situation?

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