Page 31 of His to Keep
“Nah, be grateful. If he’d really dialed it up, I’d have had to smash his face in.”
“You’re such a caveman.”
It’s only when it comes to this woman that I behave so possessively. Something about her speaks to a primal instinct I didn’t know was inside me. I need to claim, protect, and,when she steps out of line, punish this woman. Stamping my ownership on her body won’t be enough, however. I want her to acknowledge that she’s mine.
“You like my caveman side.” I let my certainty show in a cocky smirk.
Eilidh blushes deeply, which I take as confirmation, but she’s not about to let herself be distracted from what sparked her initial outrage.
“Maybe I do, but that doesn’t give you the right to make decisions about our wedding without telling me. I mean, you arranged a dress for me. Who the fuck does that?”
My brother, Alessandro, for one. He also selected his bride’s dress before he’d even met Emilia in person. Their start may have been unconventional, but their marriage is solid. Eilidh and I can have the same if she’d just give this a chance.
“Tone down the language, Eilidh.”
She glares at me in challenge. “No, I won’t tone down my fucking language and I won’t fucking stay here and listen to your bullshit.”
Knocking against my shoulder, she barges past me. Before she can reach the door, I grab her arm and swing her back toward me. She whirls around, using the momentum to deliver a stinging slap to my cheek. For a moment, we’re both too shocked to react.
“Never hit me again,” I warn, my voice steady despite the rage coursing through me.
“Fuck you!”
Rather than calming down and perhaps apologizing for striking me, Eilidh goes wild. In an outpouring of anger that catches me completely by surprise, she starts throwing punches. To prevent her from landing one that will do some real damage and land her in even more trouble, I spin her around, band my arms around her torso, and carry her to the bed. She struggles furiously, trying to head-butt me.
Though I realize her anger isn’t entirely directed at me, but is born of frustration from years of having her freedom curtailed, I can’t allow this behavior to go unchecked. Forcing her face down over the bed, I hold her with one hand on her back and use the other to lower her leggings and panties. I smack her ass, hard.
“Ow! You bastard!” Eilidh screeches.
She tries to get up, but I shove her back down and place my knee at the small of her back to prevent further attempts to evade the punishment she’s earned.
“Stop right now or I’ll tie you to the bed, thrash your ass, and then fuck it until you can’t walk for a week.”
The threat seems to do the trick as Eilidh quiets down. I take my belt off and double it over.
Pulling her back so her feet are on the floor and her upper body is on the bed, I get her into the perfect position.
“You will not try to fight like that again.” It’s one thing for her to hit me because I can control myself, but if she loses her mind with someone else the outcome may not be pleasant. “Fifteen strokes, Eilidh, and I want you to count each one.”
Drawing the belt back, I bring it down across the full width of her ass. If she thought I was going to warm her up to this, she’s in for a shock. Eilidh shrieks loudly.
“One!”
I’m surprised she remembered to count. I lay the belt across both butt cheeks again, aiming a little lower this time to create another strip of pink.
“Two.” She reaches back to rub her bottom.
“Hands,” I warn her. If I catch her fingers with the rigid leather strip, I could really hurt her and that’s the last thing I want.
I deliver three more harsh strikes with the belt, and she counts each one, her voice growing hoarser as her cries intensify. Though I hate to hear it, I can’t stop until she’s learned her lesson about lashing out at me.
After the sixth smack with the belt, Eilidh reaches back again to soothe her flesh, which has now turned a vibrant pink.
“Eilidh.”
“I can’t help it,” she sobs. “It hurts.”
“Do you need me to tie you up?”
