Page 6 of Marked
He bent down and grabbed his jeans off the floor before fishing into his pocket. He pulled out my knife. He tossed it in the air and caught it by the tip of the blade before holding it out for me to take.
“If I’m going to claim you as mine, it’s going to be after a fair fight. Here, try again,” he said.
I furrowed my brow at him in confusion. Why would he give me back my knife when I’d already tried to kill him with it? It made no sense at all.
He pressed the handle of the knife into my palm, and I hesitantly took it. Then he took several steps back and tensed. His muscles rippled with his strength, and I found myself short of breath just from the sight of him.
“You want me to fight you?” I asked with bewilderment, trying to rein in the raging heat in my body. I attempted to focus on him, but his naked body and gloriously erect cock were so incredibly distracting. I shifted back and forth, and my inner thighs slid against one another, reminding me of how very much I needed to come right now.
“Show me what you’re capable of, baby doll,” he dared, his words laced with a challenge that burned in my chest.
Before I could even think to respond, he lunged toward me. His movements were lightning-quick, almost blurring in the dim light of the room. Instinct took over. My grip on the blade tightened, and I pivoted on the balls of my feet, narrowly dodging his initial advance. My breath hitched, my pulse pounding in my ears as I spun and swung the knife in a wide arc aimed for his throat, but he ducked low with uncanny speed, avoiding the blade by inches.
I followed up with another strike, this time aiming for his side. He twisted out of my reach, and I barely nicked the skin of his muscled stomach. He grinned, a cocky, infuriating smirk that only fueled my frustration and determination. I switched tactics, feinting left and cutting right, forcing him to adjust. His steps mirrored mine, and I realized with a sinking feeling that hewasn’t fighting at his full capacity. He was testing me. Playing with me.
That knowledge only made me fight harder.
I faked a retreat, stepping back as if to regroup, then lunged forward with everything I had. The knife sliced through the air, the blade aimed for his shoulder. He deflected me with an upward sweep of his arm, but I used the momentum to twist my body and leap into the air, kicking him square in the stomach. The blow landed, and he grunted, a flash of pain flickering across his face. Satisfaction bloomed in my chest, but it was short-lived. His arm snapped out like a whip, his hand closing around my wrist before I could recover.
“Not bad,” he growled, his grip ironclad as he twisted my arm.
The knife trembled in my hand, but I refused to let go. Using my free hand, I clawed at his forearm, my nails digging into his skin. He hissed but didn’t relent. Instead, he yanked me forward, throwing me off balance. I stumbled but refused to fall, using my momentum to headbutt him square in the chest. The impact sent him staggering back a step, and I seized the opportunity, wrenching my wrist free and spinning away to put distance between us.
“Good,” he said, his tone begrudgingly impressed. “But you’re going to have to do better than that.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t waste the energy. Instead, I gritted my teeth and came at him again, feinting low before slashing upward. This time, I aimed for his face. He sidestepped, but the blade grazed his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. His expression darkened, and a spark of satisfaction flared in my chest.
But the moment didn’t last either.
Before I could press my advantage, he surged forward, closing the gap between us faster than I thought possible. His hand shot out, grabbing my knife hand again. I twisted my wrist, trying to break free, but his grip was like steel. With a flick of his wrist, the knife clattered to the floor.
I didn’t hesitate. I dropped low and swung my leg out in a sweeping kick, aiming for his ankles. He stumbled but didn’t fall, recovering with the grace of someone far too accustomed to fighting like this.
Before I could rise, he was on me. He grabbed the front of my shirt and hauled me to my feet, spinning me around and pinning me against the wall. His hand pressed against my chest, holding me in place as his other hand snatched the knife from the floor. He held it up, the blade glinting in the light, and I braced myself for whatever came next.
“You fight like a woman with nothing to lose,” he said, his voice low and even. “But you’re holding back.”
I glared at him, my breath coming in ragged gasps. “Fuck you,” I spat, my chest heaving as I fought against his hold.
He chuckled, the sound deep and rough. “That’s the spirit,” he said, leaning in close enough for me to feel the heat of his breath.
With that, he released me and stepped back. My knees wobbled, but I forced myself to stand tall, my heart thundering as I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin.
He shook his head.
“I expect more from you than that, Kendra. I’ve only just met you, and I know that you’re better than that little display,” hescolded. He tossed the knife on the bed, grabbed my arm, and pulled me toward him. Quickly, he sat down, forced me over his thighs, and wound an arm around my waist, locking me into place over his knees. His palm settled on top of my jean-covered ass.
Fuck. This wasn’t good.
“You’re going to try harder next time, or else I’ll be taking my belt to your very naked little ass,” he warned, and I screeched as his palm crashed against my backside.
His hand was like fire, even through the thick fabric of my jeans. He was strong and he was smacking my ass far harder than before. It hurt a lot. My hips jerked back and forth, trying to avoid the terrible bite of every smack, but he was relentless, and his aim was true. He started in the middle of my bottom, and he spanked the entirety of my ass, all the way down to the middle of my thighs. The ones on the backs of my legs stung the most, and I whimpered loudly when he began to focus his efforts on the place where my ass met my thighs.
I tried to squirm off his lap, but he held me tightly. There would be no escape, not from him. That much was clear.
I tried to curl my hips away, but his accuracy was terrifyingly true. The more he spanked me, the more I felt like a naughty girl who needed to be punished. The more I wanted him to teach me a lesson. The thought was horrifying, and I shook my head, trying to push any semblance of it far, far away. I was going insane. That was the only reasonable explanation. After this night was over, I needed to check myself into some sort of facility and get some help.
“Are you ready to try harder?” he asked.
