Page 85 of Descent

“Baby, cut that shit out right now. You know that you didn’t ruin anything. As long as my heart is beating, it’s yours. When it stops beating, it’ll still be yours too.”

Her eyes beg me that this is real, that I’m not lying or going to change my mind. Which is absurd. I could never change my mind about her, but that doesn’t mean she’s off the hook.

“But,” I begin, “I’m fucking pissed with you. Liam is downstairs heartbroken, Asher is devastated. Vincent…fuck, I’m surprised he didn’t rough you up a bit or something.”

She winces. “In his own way, he kind of did.”

I frown, not liking that no matter how mad he was or is.

“He hurt you?”

“No, scared me more like it.”

Nodding, my hand reaches out to her, sliding down her wet, naked body. I pause on her ass, rubbing my hand in a circular motion before I pull it away and smack it against her. She gasps at the spank.

“Ow! What the fuck?”

“He may not have hurt you, but I’m going to. You tried to run away and leave me, baby. Daddy is very mad at you right now.”

Her eyes look up at me with sadness, but I don’t miss the excitement that also comes to the surface.

“I’m sorry, daddy. Really.”

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it this time, baby. Be a good girl and brace yourself on the edge,” I say, as I gesture to the shower seat in here.

She does as I say, bending over as her hands splay across the wooden bench. I reach up, adjusting the shower so it’s not on her head, the warm water running down her ass cheeks and legs.

“How many spanks do you think you deserve?” I ask.

“As many as you think, daddy,” she responds perfectly, slipping into her submissive role like she was born for it.

“You broke so many hearts with a single text message tonight, baby. One hundred and twenty-five words, nine sentences and over four hours worried sick about you. Would a simple ‘I’m sorry’ be good enough for that?” I ask.

She shakes her head.

“What do you need then? What do we need to do to make sure this never happens again?”

Looking over her shoulder at me, her lips form the most beautiful sentence in the English language.

“Punish me, daddy.”

Something raw and primal flares up inside me, and my hand is smacking down against her ass before I realize what’s happening. She yelps in pain but doesn’t ask me to stop. Again and again, I spank her bratty ass.

How fucking dare she hurt me like that. I thought I was going to throw up at first, then a sadness like I haven’t felt in over a decade sank down inside me. Only this time, it felt worse because though I knew I would move on from Madison’s death one way or another, the same can’t be said for Skyla. She’s my everything and she not only put herself in an insurmountable amount of danger, she tried to end us? Hell fucking no.

On the last smack she whimpers, a choked sob ripping out of her that catches my attention. I look down to her beet red cheek, my hand covering it gently as I begin rubbing small soothing circles over it.

“You did so well, baby,” I praise softly, my hands continuing to massage her carefully.

“I’m so sorry,” she says on a cry, shaking her head.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I understand why you did it, I just…you can’t scare me like that again, do you hear me? My heart can’t take it.”

Sniffling, she looks over her shoulder to me. I pull her to stand upright before I scoop her up into my arms, pressing her back against the tiled wall. Peppering kisses against her neck as I whisper affirmations into her skin.

“I love you so much, baby. Please don’t ever try to leave me again,” I beg.

She shakes her head, wrapping her arms around my neck.

---