Page 42 of Defy

Sophia pushed against my hand as I worked her sensitive bundle of nerves. “This is evil.”

Abruptly, I stopped and stepped back. “Yes, it is.”

“You’re being cruel.”

“I am. Now keep counting.” I continued the delicious torment on her voluptuous ass.

By the time she called out ten, she was anticipating the bite of the belt, lifting into each stroke.

And the way her hot, hot tears soaked her face mixed with the glow on the skin along her thighs and ass was like having a living, walking dream in front of me.

Her cunt poured with arousal and need. With the slightest graze, she’d detonate. However, this was her punishment, and no relief lay in her near future.

“Damon, please. I’m dying.”

“No, you’re not.” I tugged the shirt down and then helped her to stand.

I steadied her with my arm as she gained her bearings and her eyes cleared of the haze of lust, torment, and frustration.

I fucking loved every minute of this. Sophia was so beautiful and completely at my mercy.

“I hate you for doing this to me.”

“Who was the one that decided to suffer the consequences?” I lifted her into my arms. “And I know with certainty that you don’t hate me.”

“Are you so sure?”

“Absolutely. Tell me, Sophia.”

She dropped her head against my shoulder. “I can’t tell you. I wish I could.”

“No, it’s that you won’t.”

“I’m sorry, Damon.”

“I’m not. You deserved your punishment. Just remember, I’ll hold back as much as you do.”

“I have reasons for what I do. I promise it isn’t to hurt you.”

“Ditto. You won’t win this one, Sophia. Someone is after you, and I will burn this world down and lock you in this penthouse before I let anyone hurt you.”

Chapter Nine

Sophia

“You attended the fashion show. I consider that more than enough suffering for one evening. You can sit in the car and wait for me while I go into the club. I know this isn’t your scene.”

“You’re my scene. I go where you go.” Damon set a hand on my lower back as we made it past the valet stand. “Did you forget the terms for bail?”

“The terms state, you are responsible for me and my actions or whatever. I’m not going to start a fire or a fight. Give me a break.”

“You’re stuck with me, end of discussion.”

Ignoring my glare, he ushered me through the VIP entrance of Milo, the nightclub hosting the after-party for the fashion show we had just attended.

The club belonged to the wife of the fashion designer who premiered his new collection. Since the location was within a block from the fashion school where the show took place, it made it very convenient for celebrities and A-listers to drop in for a photo-op.

The second I cleared security, a multitude of eyes shifted in my direction. The heavy weight of their scrutiny felt as if a barrel of bricks bombarded my head.

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