Obsession: A Rejected Mate Shifter Romance (The Mate Games #1)(41)

I didn’t know how I was supposed to think about anything other than the feel of his skin pressing against mine. But sure. I’d think about my mistakes. Namely, this one right here. How the hell was I supposed to hide what he was doing to my body if the evidence was dripping down my thighs?

And why was I reacting like this? He was punishing me, for God’s sake, and here I was practically panting in his lap, begging for it.

When the crack of his palm against my flesh sounded, I jerked in his lap, a soft gasp exploding out of me.

It hurt. More than I thought it would. But I also liked it far more than I expected to. That must be at least part of the reason I couldn’t help the urge to be disobedient, because just one taste of Caleb’s hand on me and I was addicted. I wanted more.

“Do you repent?”

“No,” I growled.

“So be it.”

His hand found me again, this time raining down on the other cheek. I could feel the impression of his palm searing my flesh, the sting sharp and then fading away to a warm glow. I was tingling everywhere. I’d never been so aware of the air on my skin.

He didn’t lift his hand this time. Instead, he circled the place he’d connected with and squeezed.

“God give me strength to deal with you, Sunday Fallon.” Then his palm was gone, but I felt the air shift as he landed another blow on my already stinging cheek.

I grunted, the sound low and needy. More. I needed more. “Harder, Daddy.”

His sharp gasp followed by a growl of, “I told you not to call me that,” echoed through to my core, making me clench my thighs. Then he shifted his hips, and oh, my fucking God, was that an erection?

When his next blow landed, I nearly went cross-eyed from the pain. He’d been holding back, but he really let me have it that time. The part of me that couldn’t resist goading him whispered through my mind, He’s getting off on this. Spoiler, so am I.

“Is that all you’ve got?”

I lifted my hips as he raised his hand once more, shifting just enough that his blow landed, not on my ass, but on the drenched lips of my pussy. This time, I cried out, but not from pain. Fuck, he was going to make me come.

The twitch below my breasts told me I might not be the only one.

“More,” I groaned, begging now for something far different than his hand against my ass. I wanted friction between my legs to send the buzz coursing through my veins straight to my clit, building up to sweet relief.

“You like this? You like what I’m doing to you?” His words were colored with rough desire, tight and low.

“Yes. And so do you.” I rubbed against his lap, feeling him grow thicker and longer as I did. “Admit it.”

“Repent,” he said, smacking my pussy again, this time on purpose, bringing me within an inch of the precipice.

“Never.”

Not when being bad means I get to feel you doing this, I thought.

“Stubborn girl.” This time his finger circled my throbbing clit, and I bucked against him, his own hips kicking up enough to tell me he was searching for more too.

I was so close. So fucking close. Just a little more and I’d be . . .

“Please,” I begged. “More. Make me repent, Caleb.”

“Yes,” he hissed.

“God, who knew punishment could be so much fun?”

He shuddered under me, but his finger disappeared, his whole body tightening. “You’re a lost cause. Get out of here.”

My skin went cold, the warm tingles racing through me fleeing, leaving me numb and utterly humiliated. I pushed off him with shaking limbs, pulling my pants up and taking a step back. “Yeah, well, it takes one to know one, Father. And fuck you very much, by the way.”

He didn’t turn to watch me leave. He remained stoic and still as a statue, and I wondered if this had been his plan all along. Torture in the form of edging me to near insanity.

If so, well played.





Chapter

Twenty-Two





SUNDAY





“Ugh, this is ridiculous.” I slammed shut the dusty old tome in front of me, very aware of the people around me and their disapproving stares. “What?” I shot them dirty looks, annoyed that no one would come near me after the incident with Callie.

It had been this way since I arrived at Ravenscroft. The students—aside from Moira, Alek, and Noah—avoided me and whispered behind my back. But since I nearly killed Callie with my bare hands in Sanderson’s class, it was worse. Now, instead of hushed conversations and stolen glances, it was outright fear and avoidance. I was used to that kind of treatment at home, my grandfather being disgusted by my inability to shift, my father abandoning me in favor of numbing his issues with alcohol, but I’d truly hoped it would be different here. Naively, I’d thought this would be my fresh start. Guess I was wrong. As usual.

A low voice whispered in my ear, nearly sending me skyrocketing out of my chair. “A woman as beautiful as you should never wear such a tragic frown.”

I turned my head to see Alek leaning over me, my braid grasped in between his thick fingers. He booped me on the nose with the end of it, tickling me and making me laugh despite the heaviness of my thoughts.

“Do they send you to some kind of Viking charm school as children? That was smooth.”