Page 29 of Unhinged

When he gets to three, I decide—what the hell.

Too little, too late. I know I won’t get far because—fuck me—I don’t want to.

I turn around, and the second my feet move, he says, in a rush of words, all in one breath, “Three, two, one.”

Holy shit.

He grabs me by the hair, yanking me forward and tossing me across the bar. My hands go flat on the glossy top, scrabbling for purchase where there is none.

“What’s your plan,solnyshka?” I taunt, the word twisting my mouth, mocking his affectionate term. “You gonna beat me into submission?”

I feel the slow stretch of his smile across those beautiful lips when I look over my shoulder.

“No, beautiful. I’m going to whip your ass raw for your first punishment. Because you’re as fucking kinky as I am, and it’s gonna make you wet. Because I don’t just want you, Anissa. I own you. I want my cum dripping from your hot, wet, needy cunt.”

Oh fuck. Ohfuck.

I blow out a breath, dizzy and a little nauseous. I wasn’t expectingthat.

I can hardly hear my own words from the blood pounding in my ears. “You’re such a gentleman. Tell me how you really feel.”

My hips hit the bar, and I twist, trying to break his grip—but his hand is already in my hair, shoving my face down on the surface. My cheek scrapes against the wood, my breath catching—and I am so fucking wet. Not one goddamn porn scene I’ve watched in years has made me this wet.

Fuck.Fuck.

I can’t see him, but I can feel him—his heat pressed close, his breath skimming the back of my neck. That breath I’ve heard in my dreams, for whatever fucking reason he gave me.

“Let me go,” I snarl, but it’s half-hearted. Part of the game. I have to push back so he pushes with me. I elbow him and connect with skin—he lets out a surprised little grunt—before the belt loops over my wrists.

“Naughty, naughty,” he chides, shaking his head at me.

“Aww. You’re not as predictable as I thought. I really thought you’d whip me with that first, with all your big-guy talk of punishment and all.”

I’m wet at the very thought. God, I love a fucking belting.

As if answering a prayer, his hand slaps against my skin hard. Welting.

I gasp, hating how wet I already am, how my pulse pounds between my legs.

I feel the loss of his heat at my back and crane my neck to see him bent over the pool table. When he prowls back toward me, he has a long pool stick in his thick hands, his predatory gaze pinning me in place. In one swift move, he snaps the stick in half over his knee. The sound alone makes my stomach drop—and my pussy clench.

Oh no.

He grabs my neck, pushes my face onto the gleaming bar top, and slaps the thin part of the stick across my ass. Even over my clothes, it stings likehell.

The second slap lands.

The third.

The thin end of the pool stick whips across my ass, sharp and merciless, and I let out a scream. I try to wriggle away, but he pushes one broad arm across my back and holds me in place, his grip like iron. The next lash whistles through the air before it hits so hard the sting makes me see white. My hips crashing into the bar, a startled yelp escaping my lips.

I hate him. I hate myself even more—because I fucking want this.

“You know you deserve to be punished,” he says, his voice dark silk. “You broke a promise. You played games. You thought you could get away with this, didn’t you?”

The next strike lands right where my ass meets my thighs. My knees buckle—and my panties are fucking soaked.

“You thought you could get away from me, didn’t you?”

---