Addicted to Mr Parks (The Parks Series #2)(119)
I watched his eyes fall, glancing over my body and painful scars. Sweat was dripping from him, breaths heaving from him. “Fuck. Evelyn.”
“Please.” I edged towards him slowly. “Tell me what’s inside that head of yours. I love you so much it hurts, but it hurts even more when you shut me out. It’s like you don’t trust me enough to tell me what those things are that keep you awake at night.” I hesitantly touched his chest, but he tensed again.
“No. I can’t do this.”
“Why can’t you do this? What are you so afraid of?”
“Fucking this up.” He waved a hand between us. “You are the only good that has ever come into my life. I can’t ruin that.”
“You need me as much as I need you. If the way to get your anger out is to spank me because of my stupid idea of asking your father around, then do it. I can’t cope with you walking out on me.”
He groaned loudly and lunged forwards, grabbing hold of my arm and pulling me upstairs to his bedroom. He threw me in, then booted the door closed.
Whilst inside, he pushed me up against the wall so forcefully, the impact stole my breath. Then his mouth was plunging into mine, his tongue thrusting deep. He pushed his hand between my legs roughly as he cupped my sex, making my legs buckle.
“You like pain, Evelyn?” His voice made my back shiver because his callous tone wasn’t what I was used to. His eyes were hooded and clouded in temper.
“Yes,” I hissed. “Just give it to me.” Punishment was always welcome because it turned me on, but that time I welcomed it because I prayed that after it was delivered, he would calm down and come back to me.
He bit down onto my bottom lip and pulled it through his teeth. “You’re having this punishment because you f*cking defy me, Evelyn.” He yanked my knickers from me and drove his fingers into my slick hole.
“Ah,” I cried out. It was painful but so pleasurable. The feeling was making my legs cripple, so I went to hold on to him for support, but he wouldn’t allow it.
“Don’t touch me.” He pulled out his fingers, took hold of my nape, and threw me onto the bed, leaving me panting. My heart pounding from the unknown. He disappeared into his wardrobe and brought out what looked like a long black bar. With further inspection I saw it had four loop holes attached all in one line. It was a spreader bar.
“Get on your knees. Ass up. Face down. Put your hands by your ankles.”
I hesitated as I took in his demand, so he stunned me with a sharp slap across my arse. “Hurry up!” he barked. My pace quickened. Kneeling with my arse in the air, I buried my face into the sheets, my hands between my legs and by my ankles. He quickly cuffed my ankles to the bar with the attached Velcro and did the same with my wrists.
My limbs were cuffed, my arse in the air and completely exposed and vulnerable to him.
“Remember,” he hissed, cold and aloof, “you wanted this. You don’t get to watch me, look at me, or speak. Understand?”
“Yes,” I panted.
He left my side again, so I turned my head and caught a glimpse of a cane he picked up. Oh God. The thought of him using his hand was well gone. A cane? Could I survive that?
My breathing became extremely deep and ragged, and I shut my eyes tight as I waited, chewing my bottom lip to bits.
Normally, he would ask if I was ready, but in that moment, he was playing by his rules. He was angry, his temper getting the better of him. He was damaged and saw punishment as a vital procedure in life. When I first met him, he would always give out these type of spanks. Where I was ordered not to look at him. Not to touch him. Slowly, they faded and the spanks he gave me for punishment were less tense. Then there was the angry spank. He did it once when I pushed him, but he told me he would never do it again. Now I forced him to do it, and I only had myself to blame.
I heard the cane being pulled back when he positioned himself behind me. It whistled as he dragged it back through the air before meeting my bare backside with a crack.
“Fucking hell,” I cried out, my breath being knocked out of me entirely.
“You wanted this,” he yelled behind me, whipping it back and cracking it over the same spot.
“Arrh!” My face was buried in the sheets, trying to find some support. Anything. The third time it came down, it was to the other cheek, and the blow was so harsh the noise whooshed through the air.
“Fuck.” My curse was promptly met by tears. The pain was excruciating. I kept telling myself it would be over soon. That he would realise it was hurting me and he’d stop. Or at least he would see punishment was done, untie me, and take me in his arms. His arms were what I thought of while the pain ripped through my backside and cut into me deeply. Wounding my thoughts. In that moment, I should have hated him. Should have called him f*cked up, but this was the way he dealt with his emotions. Mine used to be alcohol. Both ways were unstable, both unhealthy, but it was what we had to do. How could I hate him for that? I could only love him more. Only pray that one day his demons would vanish and that I could be his happy place. His safe. Just me.
I lost count at ten. My mind falling blank. Almost numb. It was then he stopped what he was doing, threw down the crop, and quickly untied me. My aching body collapsed onto the bed lifelessly, my tears falling in silence. I heard him cursing under his breath. Pacing back and forth. Waiting for me to come out of position.