Page 32 of Trapping His Darling

She backed away, until her ass hit the back shelf filled with tubs of ice cream. “W-what are y-you going to-to do to me?” she chattered.

When I gently moved her hair from her face, she fluttered her lashes, being coy. I pressed closed, inhaled deeply of her; a scent made even sweeter by the cold and the sugar, and cupped her jaw tenderly. The pad of my thumb rubbed her bottom lip, caressing the trembling plumpness that made me just want to kiss her, rather than what I had planned. But to get lost in her innocence and beauty would be my undoing.

Tiffany needed me. And she needed me to be clear, concise, and consistent. And she needed me to show her why we were destined for each other.

“Look at me,” I murmured.

When her beautiful eyes met mine, I nearly splooged in my pants. God, she was fucking beautiful. The thumb rubbing her bottom lip slipped into her mouth. She did not disappoint. Keeping our gazes locked, she sucked on it like the good girl she was pretending to be.

“I’m going to punish you,milyy.And you are going to let me, right?”

She looked enthralled as she nodded.

“Then I’m going to fuck you in the ass. Hard. And you will beg me for it.”

When she nipped my finger, I roughly grabbed her chin, forcing her to open her mouth. I pulled the bloody thumb out and smeared it across her lips and chin.

“Naughty girl. You know you deserve this. I told you to obey me, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered.

“I cannot let your disobedience slide. People die for such things in my world. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Her gaze dropped. She was shivering. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. But you committed a worse offense than even that, Tiffany.”

The slight gasp she released indicated her surprise. Startled eyes met mine once again. “I did?” she intoned. “What did I do?”

“You will not diet. Not with me. You are more than beautiful. You are perfect. And you will eat to properly support the child that might be growing in your womb as we speak.”

She dipped her head, and I moved back to let her look at her stomach. I spread a wide palm on the plump curve that would one day grow with my heir. She laced her fingers over mine.

“Okay,” she murmured. “You’re right. Punish me, Victor.” Then she confessed something that damn near broke my heart, when she ever so quietly added, “My weight and body shape does sometimes make me self-conscious. I’m not as thin and pretty as the other women around here.”

I leaned forward and kissed the top of her head, then spoke in her ear. “They don’t compare to you.” I then gently turned her around to face the shelf, and guided her hands to hold the ledge above to brace herself.

I stepped back, noting that she was violently shivering. If it were cold or fear or a combination of both, I could not say.

I unbuckled my belt.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Tiffany

Viktor made me feel things.He made me feel things that I rarely felt. Fear. Thrill. Intrigue. Arousal. And with him holding him his belt like that, looking upon my naked body, demanding I submit to him…

…mmm…

Another man would be on the floor in the throes of death. I have killed men for less than where I found myself now. And yet, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to kill Viktor.

The frigid metal beneath my fingers burned into my skin. I could not help but shiver, even when I told myself not to. How Viktor managed to be so comfortable was beyond me. Must be a Russian thing.

Strange how pain feels different in the cold. The belt connected with a resounding smack, and I flinched. It landed again and again. And I found myself lulled in the cold suffering, sinking into my inner psyche in ways I had never explored before.

I spent a lot of my childhood pretending to care. Not saying that I didn’t care about anything, just that my care was limited to three things: my mother, my father, and my dog, Hero. I never could, seemingly, draw up any empathy for those around me. So I faked it. Had to fake feeling sorry when my friends cried, fake feeling bad when I wronged someone, and fake feeling happy for others’ successes.

Funny, I didn’tnotcare either. I was simply indifferent. Numb. Devoid. Empty. And I assume this is why I didn’t feel bad for hurting those who tried to hurt me first.

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