Page 98 of Beautifully Wounded

Yes, I’ve been using it to get to the bottom of things, but also, I fucking love how she submits to me so easily.

“Does obeying me annoy you?”

“Yes,” she admits freely, and I grin.

“All the time?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess maybe not all the time.”

“Just some of the time?” I ask, and she nods, her eyes dropping to the floor in shame.

“Eyes up,” I order, and just as she hates, her eyes dart up to mine.

Reaching out, I hook my fingers under her jaw, tilting her head back a little more to stare into her caramel orbs.

What is it about her that has me so… intrigued?

“Do you trust me?” I lean closer, noticing her breathing pick up with the rise and fall of her chest before her pink tongue darts out to wet her lips.

Shit. Does she want me to kiss her again?

Fuck, I wonder what she’d do if I just did it without warning.

Even as I ask myself that question, memories of her trauma rush to the forefront of my mind, reminding me that eventhough we shared a kiss last night, afterwards, she revealed her horror story to me.

Kissing her would be wrong.

Touching her would be wrong.

But fuck, whyyyyy do I want to so badly?

“Answer me. Do you trust me?” I demand, and again, she obeys.

“Yes.”

Her word is a breath. A whisper. So silent that if I wasn’t looking at her lips, I probably wouldn’t have heard it.

“Then I’m going to be brutally honest with you,” I admit, staring down at her as she so willingly lets me control her right now. “You’re a submissive. I don’t know you well enough to know if this is a natural personality trait, or something you were raised to be, probably a bit of both. The fact that you sometimes talk back to me, express your opinion or disagree with things tells me that it’s probably more from the way you were raised.”

Her eyes drop to my chest, dancing from side to side as she considers my words.

“A submissive?” she asks, although it sounds more like a statement.

“What happened in your home growing up if you didn’t do as your parents asked you?” I ask, and those caramel eyes find mine again.

“I was punished. Just like any kid.” She shrugs, frowning at me.

“What were your punishments?” I ask, taking her hands in mine and leading her to the couch. When she goes to sit, I stop her, lowering my arse first and then tugging her onto my lap.

“Whatare you doing?” she asks, stiffening. “There’s no one here to see us.”

I chuckle at the way she thinks my affection outside is still a ruse.

“I know. Does it bother you to be on my lap?”

For the longest moment, she just stares into my eyes. I almost start fucking squirming from the intensity of it, but then she shakes her head slowly, her lips parting to speak.

“No.”

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