Page 64 of Nidev and Lyric

Nidev finally returned, but this time he didn’t help her walk. He lifted her in his arms and carried her.

After he set her in the car, he climbed in and knocked on the window. “My apartment,” he ordered his Verthur.

She clung to the window as far from him as possible, tears streaming. Waiting for him to scold her. To ream into her. But she got nothing. Nothing. And for some reason, that hurt worse.

****

“Shower,” Nidev ordered when they arrived at his apartment, his voice cutting through the heavy quiet. His body ached with a hunger so fierce it was maddening, but he refused himself even a drop of what he craved. That was his punishment. For his stupidity. For his own weakness with her. For his miscalculations.

She’d done more than lose control. She’d made a declaration that rattled him like nothing he’d ever experienced. Something too powerful for words.

His lesson had been for her to listen to those things hiding in the silence. The truths that weren’t spoken but bled from the soul. Even with every mark he’d put on her, she still didn’t hear what he screamed to her in the void.

Guilt. Shame. Judgment. That’s all she heard. And these things didn’t scream to her from the void, they whispered. Until its voice became static between the truth. Always speaking without words. Accusing without evidence. Judging without justice.

But Nidev knew what she needed and the agony of that knowing burned in his blood.

With a lie she’d been bound. With pain she’d be found.

By the time she emerged, her body appeared raw and trembling, hair damp and clinging to her neck. Head hanging, waiting for the judgment coming for her.

“Come here.” He stripped the order of anything that could be mistaken for comfort.

She stepped toward him, her breathing shallow and unsteady, her gaze fixed on the floor.

He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I’m going to ask you a question, Doo-nie,” he said, keeping his tone low and without mercy. “And you’re going to answer me with the truth.”

Her gaze glistened with tears as she gave a tiny nod.

He locked his brutal precision in place with an unwavering stare on her then turned and sat on the sofa, his sick cock finding a million reasons to be raging for her.

“Over my lap,” he ordered quietly.

Her breath stuttered, but she obeyed, her body folding over him. She trembled as she put her face in the leather couch and he allowed himself one caress over her bare skin, the only and last show of comfort before he began.

The first spank was sharp, controlled.

She gasped, clenching her fingers into fists. The arch of her back and trembles in her breath brought his sick desires roaring to life.

“Tell me why you lost control,” he ordered, making blades of his words and pressing them against her.

“Because I— I was jealous,” she forced out on a whisper.

“Notthe answer I’m looking for.”

The next strike landed harder, her body jolting with the force of it. Her breath caught, a moan slipping past her lips.

“Try again.”

“Because I... I couldn’t stand how you looked at her. Like she mattered,” she wrenched from her heaving chest.

“Closer.” Another spank, this one accompanied by his fingers smoothing over her stinging flesh, his voice lowering to a lethal murmur. “But still not enough.”

Her whimper tore through the air. Her body quivered against him, her thighs squeezing together involuntarily.

“Speak the truth, Lyric.”

“Because...” she gasped, her breaths jagged. “Because she touched you and it... it made me sick.”

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