Page 55 of That Girl is Trouble

A wicked grin overtakes him. “What’s that, Kitty?”

“Belt,” I say again, chin tilted high. My skin itches to feel it—the cool leather sliding over all my sensitive parts, the pain of it, the pleasure that comes after.

“It’ll leave marks.”

“I like when you leave marks on me.” I like feeling him even after he’s long stopped touching me. I like the red marks, the sting when I sit down, the chafe of my pants rubbing against my sore skin.

The hunger in Axe’s eyes sends a throb to my pussy, and I clench my thighs to alleviate the need for friction.

Grabbing me at my waist, he throws me over his shoulder and stalks through my living room, down my small hallway, and into my room, where he tosses me onto my bed. “On your knees. Elbows down,” he commands.

The sound of his belt unbuckling sends me scrambling to obey him. In seconds, I’ve flipped around, and I’m arching my ass up for him, pressing my elbows into the mattress.

“Good girl, Kitty,” he praises.

The bed dips as he moves behind me, and my heart jumps as he rips my sweatpants and underwear down my thighs.

I wait for the first hit, the slam of leather against my skin.

He moves his hand over my ass cheek. It’s slow, gentle, a whisper of a touch that sends goose bumps exploding over my skin.

“Six, I think,” he grunts.

I swallow. “Why?” But I already know why.

“Heaven, Kitty. Six times. I counted. You’re lucky I’m not doing songs. I counted those too.”

There’s an edge to his voice and anger in his words. Six men. Six private dances. Six times I disappeared into places those cameras couldn’t see me.

The first slice of the belt on my ass makes me cry out in pain.

Slap.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

He doesn’t give me a reprieve, a moment to take a breath. The first four come down fast and hard, and despite the pain, the intense burn on my skin, I arch my ass up higher so he can see, so I can show him what he’s doing to me. Already, I’m dripping for him.

He pauses, rubbing a hand over my other ass cheek. Slap. My skin is on fire.

Slap.

“Maybe two more.”

“Why?” Another question I already know the answer to.

“One for Preacher,” he says as he delivers another blow.

I cry out again, tears burning in my eyes and streaking down my face.

“And one for that fuck Rossi, who thinks he’s gonna get to touch what’s mine.”

Slap.

The last one is the hardest. A sob rips from my throat as I bury my head in my pillow, my body trembling in a confusing mess of pain and lust and need.

Axe’s belt hits the floor with a thud, and then his hands are skimming over my ass cheeks. I let out a laboured breath as he brushes his lips over my burning skin. My chest constricts when he trails kisses over every part of me. Everywhere it hurts. My ass cheeks, my hips, my thighs. And then lower. Between my legs.

He lets out a low groan when his tongue glides up my slit. “You did so well, Kitty Kat,” he says, his voice muffled as he presses his mouth farther between my thighs. “Keep this pretty ass up.” He grips my hips and spreads my cheeks wider. “I’m gonna make you feel good now.”

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