Page 77 of Cruel Prep (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 1)

We also don’t talk about the night of his party or Dallas, though that’s mostly because of me. Finn told me he didn’t hurt Dallas, and I believe him about that.

But I’m not sure about anything else.

Truthfully, I just don’t understand what’s going on in Finn’s head on these drives.

It’s not as if Finn has become a teddy bear. He hasn’t. He is controlling and impulsive and harsh more often than anything else.

But I’ve also seen a more human side to him. I’ve seen the way his face darkens at the mention of his father. I’ve seen the hurt in his eyes when he told me his mom and sister died. I’ve seen flickers of genuine human emotion underneath his cool exterior, which makes me think it is all a façade.

Occasionally, I even see something akin to shame on his face when we are tangled together in the back seat of his car. Like he doesn’t want to be doing what we’re doing, even though I can tell that hewantsit.

Sometimes, I wonder if I’m not playing directly into his hand.

I feel like I’m acting of my own free will. Like every time I strip down and let Finn inside of me, it’s my choice. But isn’t that exactly what he said would happen?

I’ll do horrible things to you, Lily. Terrible, dirty things. But you’ll like it. By the time all is said and done, you’ll beg for it.

I was the one who went down on him that day in his car.

I was the one who grabbed his hand and led him up to his room the first time we had sex.

I was the one who touched myself in his car. Who brought us both to orgasm at the same time with nothing but my hands.

And when Finn teased me about spanking, the idea stuck in my head for days until, weak with need for him, I asked him for it.

His eyes went wide, pure shock on his face. “You want me to spank you?”

I bit my lip and nodded, looking back at him over my shoulder. We were folded into a strange position in the back seat, his legs tucked underneath him while I slid my legs to either side of him and backed onto him.

My ass was right there in front of him, and all I could think about was him slapping it.

And he did.

Over and over again.

He spanked me through one orgasm and then another. He spanked me until my skin stung and felt raw, until tears sprang up in my eyes. But I could tell it was working for him, so I bit my lip and pushed down my pain, trying to make it good for him.

When we were done, and he asked me how it was, a sob forced itself from my chest when I sat back on the seat.

“Baby,” he mumbled under his breath, grabbing my chin and turning my face to look at him.

When he saw the tears in my eyes, I saw shame in his.

He kissed me softly, tenderly. His lips whispered apologies over mine, continuing them down my neck to my breasts.

Then further, until all was forgotten and forgiven.

Until the pleasure rolling through me was enough that I couldn’t feel anything else.

I begged him to spank me. To hurt me. I asked him for it, and that fact has haunted me every time I’ve seen him since.

Why is he doing this to me? And why am I letting him?

I’m drowning in these thoughts lately.

I want to talk it all through with Dr. Sharon at my therapy sessions, but I can’t do that without admitting that I lied to her about life at Ravenlake Prep. Once the tap opens, I know I will never be able to close it.

We got close to broaching the subject at our last appointment.

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