Page 42 of Bloody Vows
A moment later, Tristan steps into my room wearing a pair of dark grey sweatpants and a fitted black T-shirt, a smirk on his lips as he sees the shock on my face.
He twirls the keys he’s holding around his fingers. “I have a master key, Simone,” he says amusedly. “I own this estate now. Do you think that I don’t have a way to get into any room here that I please?”
“You—” I stare at him, anger boiling up instantly in response to his devil-may-care attitude. “You’re in my room. I don’t want you here. Get out.”
“No.” He shakes his head, pocketing the keys. “You’re inmyroom, Simone. I own this mansion. Every inch of it belongs to me, just as every inch of you does as well. Which brings me to why I’m here.” His gaze drags over me, making me feel as if I’m naked in front of him despite the baggy T-shirt I’m wearing over my shorts. “You misbehaved today,célie. I told you that there would be consequences. Go and bend over the bed.”
“No.” I tighten my jaw. “I’m not going to just bend over for…”
“You will. Or the consequences will be worse.” Tristan’s green eyes, previously amused, harden. “I was given this estate, this responsibility, and you as a wife. Iwillnothave it undermined by your behavior. You had a choice in the beginning, Simone, and you chose me. Now you’re choosing to fight me at every turn, and there are consequences for that, too.” His eyes spark, dangerous and dark. “Go bend over the bed.”
I swallow hard. There’s something different about him in this moment, something cold and deadly that frightens me down to my core. But not only that. As I think about obeying him, about crossing the room and bending over the bed and finding out what comes next, heat starts to blossom through my veins, warming me from the inside out, and I feel dampness between my thighs.
A part of mewantsto submit to him. My gaze skims over him as the tension in the air thickens, taking in his chiseled, stubbled jaw, his inked skin, the tight T-shirt over corded muscles, all the way down to where I can see the outline of his cock, half-hard and thickening against the soft fabric of his grey sweatpants. This is turning him on, too, I realize. He wants to dominate me. And helikesthat I’m not making it easy for him.
But I don’t know anything about how to respond to that. I’ve barely so much asflirtedwith a man before Tristan. I don’t understand what it is that my body wants, only that I hate him for making me want it.
“Now, Simone,” he bites out, impatience coloring his tone, and I grit my teeth, staring at him.
“Make me,” I fire back, and a slow smile spreads across his lips.
“Gladly.”
In two strides, he's in front of me, and before I can react, his hands are on my waist, lifting me effortlessly and tossing me over his broad shoulder. I start to struggle instantly, kneeing at his stomach and hitting his back with my fists, but it’s like hitting a brick wall. He doesn’t even bother to comment on my resistance.
“Put me down!” I spit out. He ignores me completely, depositing me in front of the bed firmly. He stands behind me, his hand between my shoulder blades.
"Bend over," he commands again, his voice low and dangerous.
I shake my head frantically. "No. I won't?—"
But before I can finish the sentence, his hand pushes me forward, down onto the mattress. I try to straighten up, but his hand holds me down, keeping me firmly in place.
"Tristan, stop—" I start to protest, but the words die in my throat when I feel his fingers hook into the waistband of my shorts.
"You chose this, Simone," he says, his voice rough, his accent thickening as he speaks. I can hear the desire in it, how much this is affecting him, and it makes me furious at the same time that I feel that heat blooming through my core. "You could have chosen differently, but you didn't."
“What? Chosen to suck you off in your office?” I spit out, twisting under the pressure of his hand.
“You could have chosen to pleasure your husband instead of being punished by him,” he growls, his voice gravelly with lust. “Trust me, Simone. I’ll enjoy this nearly as much as I would have enjoyed your mouth around my cock.”
He pulls my shorts and my panties down to my knees in one swift motion, and I gasp, my face burning with humiliation as the cool air hits my exposed skin. I hear his low hum of approval, and I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, knowing he can see everything.
Including the glistening arousal between my thighs, letting him know that my body doesn’t hate this nearly as much as my mouth says I do.
I clench my teeth, refusing to say a word, refusing to beg.I’m my father’s daughter,I tell myself, my jaw tight as I wait to find out what he’ll do next.I was the Russo princess. The jewel of this household. This man stole me, and I’m not going to let him break me.
“So stubborn.” Tristan smooths his hand over the curve of one side of my ass, and it takes effort not to flinch. The gentleness of the initial touch startles me—I expected a harsh strike, but his palm slides over my smooth skin, as if he’s acquainting himself with my curves. “I can’t wait to fuck this tight pussy again,célie. But from the way you’ve behaved, I don’t think you deserve it.”
He pulls his hand back and I tense, knowing what's coming.
“You’re going to need to earn my cock, Simone,” he growls. “Between your lips, and then between your legs. You’ve been a bad girl. A naughty bride. And you need. To. Learn. Your. Place.”
The last four words are punctuated by four hard spanks in quick succession, two on each side, his palm cracking down across my ass with a force that makes me sink my teeth intomy lower lip to keep from crying out in shock. I've never been spanked before—never even imagined it—and the sensation is overwhelming. Heat spreads out from where his palm struck me, the burning, stinging sensation making tears well in my eyes, and my thighs clench together, my muscles tightening in reaction to the pain.
“That’s four,” Tristan murmurs. “You’re going to get six more for your disobedience today,célie.”
I want to protest. I want to cry out, curse at him, rail against his very existence. Hate floods me, but underneath it, as his hand comes down twice more, is something else.
