God of Pain (Legacy of Gods #2)(24)

What exactly?

He pushes off me, his body heat leaving mine, but his merciless grip remains on my ponytail. “I didn’t ask you to beg yet. When I do, it’ll be much worse than this.”

What—

My thoughts are interrupted by his firm command, “Now, count to ten or we’ll start from scratch.”

A slap echoes in the air and my mouth opens in a wordless gasp. Pain erupts on my ass cheek, hot and fierce. But I don’t even focus on that when his hand meets my flesh again, harder than the first time.

So hard that my front bumps against the shelves and my legs shake.

“I don’t hear you counting.” His voice has darkened, becoming shadowy and rich with dominance. “We’ll go again.”

The slap collides with the mounting music and I whimper, “One.”

He smacks my ass again and a sob tears from my throat, mixed with the crescendo of the song and my raw breathing.

“T-two.”

The air is weighed down with a cloak of depravity and twisted emotions. I never imagined I would be in this position, held down, ass in the air, being spanked.

But maybe this is exactly what I’ve been yearning to learn ever since he warned me away.

Ever since he told me about his deviant tastes.

Maybe this is why I provoked him. I didn’t do it on purpose, but deep down, in the black corners of my mind, I wanted to see him…snap.

I just had no idea that it’d be this brutal. Or that I would have this foggy reaction to it.

His hand comes down on my flesh again with the ruthlessness of a whip.

“From now on, when I tell you to do something, you do it.” Slap. “If I warn you, you don’t ignore me.” Slap. “You’ll listen to fucking orders.” Slap. “You will obey me.” Slap.

“Three, f-four, five, six.” I grab onto the shelves with a death grip. My nails dig into the metal as sweat trickles down my back.

My pretty purple dress is all crumpled and squashed by his overwhelming ruthlessness, but that’s the least of my worries.

Tears sting my eyes, and it’s not only because of the pain.

Tchaikovsky almighty. I really hope it’s only due to the throbbing of my assaulted ass.

My thighs clench and my core aches, pulsating with an animalistic need. When he slaps me three times in a row again, I rock forward, bumping my clit against the shelf below.

Bursts of pleasure knot the base of my stomach and I close my eyes, my voice turning deeper, erotic. “Seven, eight, nine.”

My breaths form condensation on the metal and I welcome the small reprieve and the break from pain.

He slaps my ass, and I haven’t even finished whispering "Ten” when he shoves my thighs apart in one motion. His fingers dig into my skull and he yanks me back with his grip on my hair, forcing my eyes to shoot open.

The back of my head rests on his hard chest as he whispers in my ear with chill-inducing intensity, “You haven’t earned the right to come.”

I twist my head the slightest bit, and for the first time since he started his ‘punishment,’ I’m able to see his face.

And I’m not ready for the scene.

It’s like I’m looking at an entirely different person. His breaths are ragged, causing his chest to inflate and deflate in a rapid rhythm that still simmers with calm, and his face—damn his stone-cold face that’s caught in eternal blankness and oozes control to the brim.

His eyes, however, tell a completely different story. Yes, there’s that display of dominance, sadism even, but they’re masking something a lot deeper.

An emotion a lot darker.

And I wish I could reach inside him and tug those emotions out. Even if that means I’d get swooped up in the process.

My assaulted ass rubs against his jeans and I whimper, both at the pain and the expression on his face.

Though the first has dimmed compared to the throbbing between my legs.

His jaw clenches and his eyes flash to my parted lips. “I thought pain scared you, so how come you get off on it?”

I try to shake my head, but it’s impossible with his grip on my hair.

“I can smell your arousal. It’s permeating the fucking air.” His fingers spread against my panties. “When did you become this soaking wet, hmm? Was it before or after I spanked your little arse? Maybe during? Did you get turned on by the thought of being owned by me? Did you picture my cock tearing through your cunt until you screamed and choked on my name?”

My lips part.

Holy. Shit.

Who thought the quiet Creighton had such a dirty mouth? It’s almost like I’m meeting another version of him.

One whose every secret I want to unwrap and flounder in every splash of its darkness.

My hips rock against his hand, basically dry humping him, and he doesn’t remove it. Instead, his fingers push my panties to the side and glide against my folds.

His voice lowers against my earlobe. “Now is the time to beg.”

My heart nearly jumps in my throat as I murmur, “Please.”

“Please what? Say the whole sentence.”

Damn it. I’ve never spoken such vulgar words out loud, but I don’t really have a choice now.

He has me completely at his mercy.

“P-please make me come.”

His jaw tics once, twice, and then he shoves two fingers inside me. I reel from the pressure as it mounts and mounts until I’m unable to breathe.