Page 71 of Call It What You Want
“Do you know what this seal means?” he asks.
“I know what youthinkit means,” I say, swallowing.
“It means you’re mine, Ava. Not just my wife, but in the eyes of the Burning Crown, my possession.”
He says that, like I should be thanking him or something.
“Lucky me,” I scoff. I know I shouldn’t poke the bear, but I can’t help it. “Most girls just get a wedding ring.”
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he walks into the closet and returns a second later with a belt in his hand. “Bend over.”
I jolt of panic rips through me. “Please. Don’t.”
He approaches with a cruel look that makes my stomach knot up. I know that look. And I instinctively know, whatever this is, I’m not talking him out of it. I’m not escaping this.
He grabs my waist and drives me down into the mattress, forcing me to bend until my face is buried in the sheets.
“Jackson, wai?—”
There’s no warning. No warmup. The first crack of the belt lashes across my ass—hot, sharp, searing my skin like fire. I cry out, lurching forward, but he yanks me back into place, only to bring the belt down on me again. Before I can even brace myself for the next blow, the leather bites into my tender skin again.
My face is wet, and I realize tears are streaming down my cheeks. I bury my face in the sheets, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to block out the pain.
Seconds later, another sharp, painful strike licks across my ass, the tail brushing over my pussy, leaving me gasping. My hands are fisted in the sheets, my entire body tense, anticipating the next blow.
It doesn’t come.
I twist my head, sucking in a few shaky breaths, but it still feels like I can’t get enough air. Just when the burn on my skin becomes too much, something cool touches the wound, easing the sting and sending a shiver down my spine.
When he’s done with the cream, he flips me onto my back. Every part of me wants to fight him off. I want him to fuck me, yeah—but this? This feels too close. Too real.
I meet his eyes, and whatever walls I had left crumble. The tears that follow aren’t from pain, they’re from something raw and deep that I’m too exhausted to hide.
Jackson pushes my thighs open and steps between them. His hard cock is pressed against my pubic bone, his beautiful body curved over mine. “It’s okay, baby,” he whispers, his tongue chasing my tears. “I’m going to take the pain away.”
We both know he’s not talking about the physical pain. It’s the emotional pain that leaves the most gnarly scars. And I carry so many scars from the last three years, I don’t know if there’s anything left of me thatisn’tbroken.
Brushing the pad of his thumb across my cheek, he looks into my eyes. “Who do you belong to, Ava?” he whispers.
“You,” I whisper. “I belong to you.”
Capturing my mouth with his, he shifts his hips and pushes his cock inside me. My channel stretches around his girth, and I moan against his mouth. It feels so good to be filled by him.
“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead against mine. “You’re so damn tight, so perfect.”
He pulls out, almost to the edge, then drives back in, so deep it rips the air from my lungs. My ass feels bruised from the belt, and it stings with every thrust, the pain bleeding into pleasure until I can’t tell which is which.
“I’m going to pump a fat load into this pussy,” he says, nipping at my cheeks, my chin, my neck. The pinch of his teeth makes me hiss. “And you’ll take it like a good girl.”
With a moan, I claw at his arms, my nails digging into hard muscle as he pounds into me, the slap of skin and his ragged grunts filling the air. His pelvic bone crashes against my clit with every thrust, and I can feel his cock grow even harder inside me.
His last thrust is so raw and savage, it borders on pain. “Take it, baby,” he hisses, his breath hot against my ear. Then I feel it. His cock pulses, and his cum floods into me. “You feel it, don’t you? My cum deep inside you. Your greedy cunt can’t get enough.”
His filthy words shatter my control, and the climax rips through me in a violent wave that devours me from the inside out. My head arches back, nails digging into his skin as I cling to him like he’s the only thing keeping me from drowning. And still, he keeps thrusting, shallow and savage, drawing the pleasure out until a strangled cry escapes my throat.
When he’s done, he pulls out of me and rolls onto his back. My center feels wet and raw, and when I turn my head to look at him, those beautiful green eyes are fixed on me.
The silence between us feels different now. Like we’ve crossed some invisible threshold. And what’s worse, I’m afraid I’ve just given him a piece of myself I’ll never get back…
