Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Something in his tone makes my stomach flip.
"That was Giovanni on the phone," he says quietly. "Jino explained. Tellin' me that you need things now. Your brain has expectations. Like I just said. Corrections, punishments, ex cetra, ex cetra, ex cetra." He stops. Takes a breath. "They gave me instructions. Well, Jino did. He said… I should… take over."
My heart is suddenly pounding. "Take over?"
"He explained how to care for ya while yer here." His hand is still in my hair, fingers gentle against my scalp. "Ya see, there's this big, complicated thing happenin' with the LaRiccia crime family because of Rico. I'm sure you understand that. It's part of the reason you were in the dungeon. Giovanni admitted that he killed Rico, so don't worry. Yer not givin' away no secrets. There is a plan to take care of the situation. To force Luca LaRiccia to accept that his son is dead and Giovanni had nothin' ta do with it. But it's gonna take a week, at least. Which means…"
"Which means I have to stay here?" I hate that I kinda sob these words out. A whole week? Maybe longer? I really want to cry now. "I can't do it," I tell Lorcan. I can't. I need to see him. I need to see Giovanni. I need Jino to tell me what to do. I don't care how sad and pathetic that sounds, I need them."
He's petting me again. Like I'm some sad, abused animal. "Yes, ya do. Ya need them. But, unfortunately, I'm all you've got right now. Which means…"
He stops. I wait, try to. But I'm so on edge, I snap. "Which means what?"
He takes a breath. Holds it. Releases it slowly through his nose. "They told me to punish ya," he says. "To close the feedback loop. So ya can regulate again."
My brain stutters. Stops. Restarts.
Punish me.
"Emmaleen." Lorcan's voice pulls me back. "Look at me."
I do. His gray eyes are serious. Concerned.
"I'm not gonna do anythin' ya don't want," he says. "I need ya to understand that. This is your choice. Not Giovanni's. Not mine. Yours."
My throat is so tight I can barely breathe.
"But if ya do want it—if ya think it might help—I can… I can give ya what yer body's askin' for. Close the loop. Let ya feel the consequences ya were expectin' so ya can move past this and think clearly again."
He pauses.
"Would ya like to be punished, Emmaleen?"
The question hangs in the air between us.
My brain immediately launches into defense mode. This is insane. You're sitting naked on the floor of a stranger's bedroom being offered discipline like it's aspirin for a headache. This is not normal. This is not healthy. This is—
But my body is already responding.
Heat pooling low in my belly. Nipples tightening. That familiar ache between my legs that means yes, please, finally.
"I—" My voice comes out wrong. Too breathy. I clear my throat. Try again. "I don't know if—"
"Take yer time."
"It's just—would it even work? If it's not Giovanni doing it? Or Jino?"
Lorcan's thumb brushes along my jaw. "Don't know. But it's worth tryin', isn't it? Better than leavin' ya like this."
My hands are shaking. I press them against his chest to steady myself.
Think, Emmaleen. Think.
What do I actually want?
I want to stop feeling like I'm crawling out of my skin. Want the noise in my head to quiet down. Want my body to stop screaming at me that something is wrong, that I failed, that I need correction.
I want—
God.
I want someone to punish me so I can stop punishing myself.
"I—" The word catches. My brain feels like it's gonna explode. I can't actually be saying this. Am I really saying this? "Yes."
Lorcan goes very still. His eyes locked on mine. HIs one word both a question and a plea. "Yes?"
"Yes," I say. This time, definitively. "Please. Punish me."
13
Punish me.
These words echo in my head as I stand up and hold out my hand to the naked girl on my bedroom floor.
For one moment—she hesitates. Looks at it. Looks at me.
And there's part of me that's cheering her on. That's it, I'm saying. Question this. Don't let some strange man take you down to the chapel. It only gets worse from here.
Fight, you doe-eyed little sub. Fight! Do not give in to the urges.
Because once you're in, once you get a taste of it, it's an addiction.
Ask me how I know.
But there's another part of me. A much darker part of me who wants her to mean this. With all her heart. Who wants her to be as fucked up as I am. Who wants her to long for what I want to give her. Who wants her dopamine hit to flow directly from my punishment.
She takes my hand. Her fingers sliding into mine—warm, tentative, trusting—and Christ, there it is. That rush. That familiar spike of power straight to my cock. I help her up and lead her toward the stairs, her smaller hand wrapped in mine, and the spirals start immediately because of course they do.