Page 34 of Crown of Thorns
“Everyone out,” Rhys snarls and we all turn and head for the door. “Not. You.”
My shoulders immediately slump because I know he means me. Leo looks at me with pity in his eyes and I know that I’m fucked. Rhys’s personal secretary just walks by me with his eyebrows raised.
The door closes behind them with a quiet snick and I feel like I’m going to be sick.
“Turn around and look at me,” he says quietly.
“No thank you,” I whisper.
“It wasn’t a bloody request.”
I turn around and keep my eyes locked on the expensive carpet while tears burn behind my eyes.
“Look at me, hen.” Without lifting my head, I raise my eyes to meet his glacial gaze. “Do you know what you did wrong?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“What was it then?” he asks.
“I spoke rudely to you,” I whisper and pray that I don’t cry in front of him.
“You may always speak your mind to me,” he says, and I apparently do not school my face in time because he says. “You can, but you may not speak to me like that in front of others because I am king and there is a perception to uphold.”
“I’m sorry.” I’m not sorry I fought back but I am sorry that I aired our dirty laundry in front of others. That was tacky.
“Good girl,” he says, and I feel myself relax. “Now come get your punishment.”
“What?” I gasp.
“I thought I was clear last night; actions have consequences and you’re about to receive yours.”
“No.”
“It wasn’t a request,” he says coolly. “Now come here, hen.”
Slowly, I make my way over to where he sits behind his desk in his leather chair. He pushes back so that there is room between him and the historic desk, but he’s still seated with his legs wide and the bulge in his slacks evident. Last time he was angry with me he denied me an orgasm and made the maid watch. Nowthat I know what’s coming, how bad could this be?
“That’s my girl,” he says. “Now lift your skirt and show me that delicious cunt.”
“What?”
“I didn’t ask.” With my heart beating wildly, I slide the fitted skirt up and over my hips, displaying my pantyhose and panties. “Step out of your shoes and come closer…”
I kick off my heels and edge closer until his hands grab my hips and yank me to him. He slides his fingers into the front of my pantyhose and rips them front to back so that only the delicate waistband is still around my belly, the expensive silk unravelling down my legs.
“What are you doing?” I gasp. “Those had to have cost a fortune.”
“Aye,” Rhys says. “And I do no’ fucking care.”
And then he pulls me forward so that his nose is pressed against my mound, and he inhales deeply. He groans before he pulls back just enough to push mylace panties down my legs, tangling them around my ankles, but he doesn’t help me out of them or release me. Instead, he tips me over his muscular thighs, with my head hanging forward and my bare ass in the air.
“Wh-what are you doing?” I ask.
“Teaching you a valuable lesson, hen. I can’t keep you safe if you don’t let me, and part of that is our looking like a united front. To the world, you are a dutiful wife who serves her king,” he says just before he lands the first slap to my bare cheek. It stings. “Now count.”
“What?”
“I said count,” he snarls as he spanks me again.
