Page 33 of Violent Cravings

Chapter 18

Laura

I’m panting breathlessly, sweating, and my heart is racing at such a vicious speed that it makes me feel dizzy. His gaze is fixated on me, and it’s a sinister expression full of threat.

Shit. This can’t be good.

“What did I tell you?” he asks, his voice steady but underlined with fury.

I whimper helplessly, my lower lip shaking uncontrollably, as I try to answer him.

“What did I tell you!?” he repeats, louder this time.

“Not… not to come,” I breathe out, the horror apparent in my tiny, thin voice.

He sighs and rises to his feet, staring down at me as I lay paralyzed in front of him. My center is still open and bared to him because I’m too scared to move.

“And what did you just do?” he asks. His tone sounds softer this time, more patient and forgiving. It almost tricks me into believing this will not have any painful repercussions.

“I… came,” I utter, hoping that my willingness to admit my mistake will help to prevent punishment. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” he repeats, adding a laugh that scares me even more than his threatening looks. “I’m afraid that won’t cut it, doll.”

He takes a step back, burying his hands in his pants’ pockets, and he nods toward me.

“Get up.”

“Yes, master.”

I push myself up, grimacing when the sore skin of my ass brushes against the sheets beneath me. The pain was there before, but it was numbed by my insane arousal. Now, in my post-orgasmic state, it’s more prevalent.

My legs are shaking when I get off the bed and stand in front of him, towering high in my stilettos and wearing nothing but the sheer stockings and black garter belt.

He looks at me and shakes his head again.

“So beautiful and so fucking delicious,” he says. “But so disobedient. What am I to do with you, doll?”

“I’m s –”

“Shut up!” he barks. “You’ve been a bad girl. Saying that you’re sorry over and over again will not help you.”

He comes closer to me in one wide step, hooking his finger into the ring at the front of my collar. He yanks it so hard I’m forced to step forward. Pressed against his chest, he pulls at the collar to lift my gaze to his.

“What did I tell you would happen, if you don’t obey me?” His blue eyes are piercing, wild with a conflicting combination of fury and desire. Again, I can feel his hardness pressed against my lower belly, and I can’t help but wonder why he’s not doing anything about it. Why is he still fully dressed? Why doesn’t he just fuck me?

“You’d punish me,” I whisper, looking up at him with pleading eyes. Please, not the cane. I hate the cane. But I don’t dare say it for fear it will make him use it all the more.

“That’s correct,” he says. His grip on my collar loosens and he takes a step back, assessing me from a distance, as if pondering what to do with me.

I’m trembling, unsure whether the anticipation that’s taken a hold of me is fueled by a positive thrill, or fear. It must be the latter. How on Earth could I be looking forward to being hurt?

Because it feels so good afterward…

I’m yanked back to reality when he places his hands on my shoulders.

“You’re still new to this,” he says. “So I’ll go easy on you. This time.”

An odd mixture of relief and disappointment spreads through my chest. Is he not going to punish me at all? Does he think I can’t take it?

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