Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
My need to bolt slowly dims, replaced by a strange type of acceptance.
It’ll pass, just like everything else in my life.
As long as he doesn’t see my reaction, he won’t get to me.
Adrian unbuckles his belt and I stare, transfixed, trapped in a daze, as he wraps it around his hand, a blank expression on his face. “Get on your knees.”
15
Winter
My wild gaze flits from his vacant eyes to the belt looped around his hand.
He must be kidding.
But he isn’t.
Adrian said he’s not the joking type, and I believe him.
I’ve been squirming all day long from the feel of the handprints he left on my ass, so I wholeheartedly believe he’s going to whip me with his belt right now.
“Please, don’t…” I don’t want to resort to begging, and as soon as I say the words, I know it’s a waste of my energy. I know that someone like him isn’t deterred by pleas or tears. If anything, he gets off on it. Just like he gets off on punishing me.
So when he speaks his next words, I’m jolted out of my skin with surprise. “What are you willing to do instead?”
“Anything,” I blurt.
“I’ll fuck you against the wall.”
“Fine…” I hesitate for a second, a little apprehensive about his intensity. I saw his size, I know it’ll hurt like hell, and a man like Adrian seems as if he likes it rough.
However, agreeing to that is the better choice. Fucking or being whipped. Yeah, it doesn’t take a genius to decide.
“And you won’t bite your lip. You won’t suffocate your moans as your cunt strangles my dick.”
“No,” I snap.
He tilts his head to the side as if I’m some sort of problem and he’s contemplating whether he wants to solve it or eradicate it once and for all. “No?”
“You just get to fuck me; you don’t get to tell me how I react to it.” My silence is my only defense mechanism against him, my last piece of armor, and if I let him take that, too, then I’m well and truly screwed. My identity will be erased and I’ll merely be a washed-out version of his wife.
“I decline then.”
“W-what?”
“Either you come completely undone or you take your punishment.”
I glare at him, my fists burning with pain from how tightly I’m clenching them. My nails dig so hard into my palms, I’m surprised I don’t draw blood.
Sucking a long gulp into my lungs, I lower myself to my knees.
As I do so, I notice a shadow of disappointment and something else crossing his face.
Fuck him. He won’t break me.
My name is Winter Cavanaugh. I’m not Lia Volkov and I’m no way in hell this madman’s wife.
I chant that in my head in preparation for what’s to come. To say I’m not scared would be a lie, but my dignity keeps me upright.
“It’s unfortunate that you chose the high road with me. Very unfortunate.” The smoothness in his voice sends chills down my spine.
“You have your conditions and I have mine.”
“Holding on to your conditions will only heighten your suffering. Understand this, Lia. I’m not to be crossed or defied. The harder you push me, the more ruthless I become. The greater you challenge me, the harsher I react. You do not want me to react, and you certainly do not want to see my inhuman side. I’ve been showing you mercy, so be grateful for it.”
“Mercy?” I mean to scoff, but my lips tremble due to the assault of his words. “In what world are your actions a show of mercy?”
“Believe me, they are.”
“You might think of them as such, you might consider yourself some sort of a twisted, gracious god, but you’re not. You’re cruel and callous. You’re brutal and sadistic. You’re perverted, too, because you get off on inflicting pain. Your calm and quiet demeanor doesn’t fool me, and neither does your warped sense of benevolence. Your sole purpose is to hurt and take as you see fit. So don’t stand there, holding a fucking belt, and say that you’re showing mercy.”
I’m breathing heavily after my outburst, and I’m fully prepared for the number of punishments to go up, because that’s what sick bastards like Adrian do; they use any chance to turn the circumstances against you.
It’d be worth it.
For the first time since I stepped on his radar, I’ve given him a piece of my mind.
A cold object touches my cheek—the belt. He taps it gently against my skin—dotingly, even—but his expression remains the same, impassive and unreachable.
“If I’m perverted for liking to inflict pain, what does it make you if you enjoy it?”
My cheeks redden, both at his statement and especially at his veiled admittance. That he does enjoy inflicting pain. That I wasn’t wrong for recognizing his need for control. But I push those to the back of my head as I lift my chin. “I do not enjoy it.”