Page 75 of Striker

“What thefuckare you doing?” he grates, his voice deadly low. He grips the back of my neck, jerking me forward. My hands flatten to his chest to balance myself, completely unprepared for his rage.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, but I’m not even sure what I’m sorry for. For coming up here. For breaking into his room. For picking up the phone. For being Rune Gavin’s flesh and blood.

His grip tightens on both me and the wolf. Glancing back at the figurine, he somehow looks even angrier than before as he places it delicately on the dresser.

“How did you get in here?” he demands, but then his gaze snags on the knife, eyes widening, then flaring with disbelief. His jaw moves under his mask like he’s grinding his teeth, then the phone vibrates and his shoulders go rigid.

Amber eyes snap to me. My blood chills.

Watching my face, he slides a boot back as he steps away, lowering his gaze to the floor. My hands curl into fists, dread clawing into my chest as he stares down at the phone at my feet, completely still. Suddenly, like something in him snaps loose, and he springs forward, fingers weaving into my hair, yanking me brutally downward.

I cry out as my knees hit the hard floor, my hands flying up to grip his, my scalp burning from his painful grasp.

“Pick it up!”

Tears spring to my eyes. I try to grip the phone but I’m shaking now, my hands fumbling and it slips from my grasp, clattering to the floor as I say, “I didn’t call!”

“Pick it up and fucking call for help,” he growls, the pitch black edge to his voice making my heart beat so hard it feels like it may pound right out of my ribcage. Hands trembling, I grab the phone and pull it to my chest. With a growl, he yanks my hair, dragging me to my feet, then shoves me toward the bed. “Don’t drop it, Princess. You’re going to need help now.”

With a forceful shove, Striker pushes me forward. My arms fly out to catch myself, the phone flinging across the mattress.

I tuck my head, turning my face as he slams me down, his palm pressing my head brutally into the mattress. He bends over, chest heaving, eyes dark with rage in his skull mask. In the weeks I’ve been here and the times I’ve interacted with him, I’ve never seen this wild, dangerous energy. He practically vibrates with rage, something cruel rippling under his skin.

“You were fuckingwarned.” Striker releases my hair, then tugs up the back of my dress until my ass is exposed. Gripping my underwear, he rips them down my thighs, tugging them off completely and throwing them down next to my head.

“You just can’t seem to listen,” Striker grates. When I hear the familiar clank of metal, my eyes move to his belt. The sound of leather slipping from the loops sends an odd heat surging to my core. “We have told you the consequences, yet you insist on learning the hard way.”

I watch, my heart skittering, as he grips the buckle, then winds the belt around his hand, heat flaring between my thighs at the sight. Biting my lip, I say nothing because he’s right. I was warned and here I am. Suffering the consequences for doing exactly what they told me not to.

The leather belt snaps behind me, and then suddenly pain radiates from my left butt cheek to my thigh. I’m so shocked, from the pain, the intense, horrible burn, and the realization he just spanked me with the belt, that my body goes still, air seizing in my lungs.

An animalistic growl vibrates from him, and the belt lands again. My mouth opens, fingers curling into the blanket. It cracks over my flesh again and again, searing heat shooting out like an electric current, radiating down my thighs. Shock holds my breath hostage, keeping me in frozen in place.

The belt lands again and pain cuts through me like a knife. The need to cover my ass, lessen the pain almost makes me reach behind me, but I clutch at the bedding and hold onas he spanks me, something pulsing and primal sparking inside my center as I lie still watching him loom over me. His muscles tighten in his arms and shoulders as he pulls back and lets it land. Thick, muscled legs spread wider, adjusting his stance as the belt cracks down again.

The sweet man from the garden is gone, replaced by this unhinged devil with the scarred face. Something inside me coils up just as tightly as the muscles in his chest and arms, cutting deep into my core as harshly as the belt.

As it lands again, instead of jerking away from the pain, I lean into it and that darkness blooms, unfurling inside me all over again, that feral woman they created breaking free. Liquid heat pools between my thighs and when I arch my back, meeting the punishing pain, the belt lands lower, spanking my pussy with a cutting slap.

Pleasure fires through my clit. I moan, hips arching downward, my body rocking to meet the belt, reaching for that blinding release I felt before.

Then it stops.

Striker lunges forward, and grips my hair, jerking my head back, ruthlessly. He drags the belt around my neck, then yanks. The leather presses into my throat.

“You will notcome,” he hisses into my ear.

Pressure builds in my head from how tightly he’s holding the belt. My mind swirls, my body aching, pain radiating all over my ass and thighs, but it’s not nearly as bad as the ache between my legs. I rub my ass into his erection despite the sting in my skin, unable to control myself or the lust rushing through me.

“Fuck,” he hisses, loosening the belt. I gasp for air. His dick grinds into me. “Greedy girl, better be careful.” He yanks the belt. “I’ll turn you into my good little slut and you’ll regret the day you fucking begged for my cock.”

He slaps my ass, and I wince.

Leaning forward, he whispers in my ear. “Beg me, Princess. I dare you. Beg me to spank your pussy. Because you love it, don’t you? Love the pain and the pleasure.”

I clamp my mouth shut, too scared my denial will sound like the lie it is.

“You’d love for me to shove my cock deep into your tight cunt. Take you.Forceyou. Then you’d get what you wanted and not have to admit that you fuckingcraveme.”

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