Innocence (Tales of Olympus #1)(45)

“That’s right. Be a good girl and I’ll make you feel good. There’s no need to fight. You won’t win.”

She gave a little huff, but kept still. He rubbed the place between her legs and she jerked, her shoulders tense.

“Easy,” he soothed like she was a wild horse. “Let me make you feel good.”

He felt the moment she decided to surrender as she finally relaxed into his touch. She’d pushed the boundaries as far as she could and now, tired of fighting, she could submit. He withdrew his fingers and she gave a gusty sigh.

“I’m gonna spank you now,” he told her firmly, “and you’re going to take it. You know why you’re being punished?” he paused, but she remained silent. “You ran from me. You can’t do that, Cora. You’ll only end up hurt. I can’t protect you if you don’t obey.”

“I’m never going to obey you.” A defiant whisper. The last of her resistance.

“You will. I’ll teach you.” He squeezed her right cheek hard enough to press a white patch on her bottom, outlined in red. He smacked her left cheek lightly, enjoying the ripple through her firm flesh.

His palm clapped down harder, one cheek and then the other. She wriggled and he gritted his teeth against the torment of stimulation to his leaking cock. He was in charge. He would not lose control and rut her like he wanted to, so badly. Not until she earned it.

He weighted her legs down with one of his, holding her with a large hand in the small of her back. After a token struggle, she gave up, her body growing loose and languid, accepting of each swat on her bare ass.

As far as spankings went, this was a light one, enough to sting but not enough to bruise. Marcus didn’t miss the hitch of her breath or the slight shift of her hips as he spanked close to her pussy. He used his leg to split her thighs apart, and saw with satisfaction that her folds were glistening.

“You’re doing so well,” he purred. “Submitting. Taking your punishment. Such a good girl.”

She didn’t answer, but he didn’t need her to. The slick serum leaking between her legs, dampening his slacks told him how she really felt. But hadn’t he known all along? There was an undercurrent to the undeniable attraction they had for each other. He dominated and she obeyed. They’d cleaved together in the easy dance, her yielding power, him taking it, since the first moment they’d met.

If she wasn’t the enemy, Marcus would say she was his missing half. Only she could make him whole.

But she was the enemy, and he knew better than to succumb to her charms. He’d mold her and master her until she knew her place—at his feet—and his inexorable rule over her. The small voice that told him it would be better if she freely came to him to submit… He shook his head against the thought. That was weakness and had no place in his reasoning.

Cora whimpered and he palmed her right ass cheek. Her pale skin was flushed, warm to the touch. He’d spanked her with increasing intensity and she’d accepted it.

Part one of the punishment was over. Time for part two.

His hand slipped between her legs, finding the slick furrows on either side of her clit and stroking. She writhed and he weighted her down, his fingers never pausing in their rhythm.

“Stop fighting,” he said. “Just enjoy it.”

“I shouldn’t…” Her words were slurred like she was drunk. Drunk on endorphins. Drunk on him.

“Do you want me to stop?”

An endless pause before she answered in a clearer voice, “No.”

Marcus allowed himself a satisfied smirk.

He eased his grip on her, giving her freedom to wriggle away if she wanted. She stayed still and he rewarded her, strumming her like an instrument, her gasps and moans a music of his making. He played her to perfection until she stiffened and gasped and came, soaking his hand and his crisp white shirt cuffs.

“Good,” he praised her. “So very good.”

But he wasn’t done. Once wasn’t nearly enough to get his point across. And he couldn’t keep his hands off her flesh even if it was.

He rubbed her pink bottom and shifted his leg off hers. She didn’t move though, and didn’t protest when he spanked her again, round after round interspersed with rubbing her needy flesh until she came and came and came.

The third time she forgot herself and moaned loudly and wildly as her orgasm hit, which only drove Marcus to demand more of her. By the fifth, she was exhausted and mewling her release but it was all the sweeter, watching her sweat-dampened face, all confusion and fight faded to sweet, sweet surrender.

Her legs splayed open freely and she pressed her bottom against his hand even when he wasn’t pleasuring her. In this moment she was his and his completely. And he’d never felt more like a king.

It wasn’t until after, when he stood over her limp and sated body, that he realized his mistake. That every gasp and inadvertent squeeze of her cunt on his fingers was a link in a chain, locking him to her as securely as he’d tied her to his bed.

He waited a long time, watching her sleep, too hard to think straight, too tangled up in her to leave.





Thirteen





Cora jerked out of her dream. A nightmare. She’d stood at her wedding, said her vows, and then Marcus turned into a monster and carried her off. She’d screamed and reached out to the wedding guests for help but Armand and all the rest only sipped their drinks and laughed.