by Layla Frost
I pulled the belt until it freed the last loop, holding it out to skim across her ass and her back.
Another small noise escaped her, though I wasn’t sure whether it was a whimper or a stifled moan.
Maybe both.
I dropped the belt in front to her face, making her jump. She’d barely relaxed when I trailed something else between her ass cheeks.
Her body went rigid again, and she tried to lift to look, but I put my hand between her shoulders.
“What is that?” she asked, breathless.
I ignored her question and shared, “Last night didn’t go how I’d intended. I’d planned on taking it easy, without the rules and punishments.”
“You said you’re always like… that.”
“I am. I’m selfish and controlling, which means I’ll do what I want. Sometimes, I’ll just want to fuck your perfect pussy. Or your face. Or eat you until you beg me to stop. But I won’t always punish you. That’s only for when you deserve it.”
There was a moment’s hesitation before she admitted, “I did deserve it.”
My cock jerked. “Which was why I punished you.”
“But you weren’t going to?”
Leaning down, I kissed her spine, swirling my tongue as I moved up until my body covered hers. “First, I was going to fuck you because after months of wanting you more than I’ve ever wanted anything, I finally had you. After I could think again, I was going to take things slow to see what you liked and didn’t.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because you lie as easy as you breathe, and you’d let fear or your misplaced sense of morality stop you from admitting what you enjoy.” I stood and stepped away before bringing the crop down on her ass.
Her yelp of surprise and hiss of pain filled my ears, making my dick ache.
“What the hell was that?” she cried.
I ignored her again. “I didn’t go easy because that’s not how this works. You take what I want to give, and you trust that I’m going to take care of you.”
Another sharp thwack.
Another sharper cry.
“Because when you earned another punishment, you needed to know what you’d get.” I let the crop land lighter. “Did you know?”
“Yes!” she choked out.
“Yet you taunted me today when I asked you about Crosby. You know it drives me up the damn wall that he touched you—touched what’s mine.” I rubbed the leather between her pussy lips, moving it away and bringing it back in gentle taps.
Her breathing was harder than before, her cheek flushed and damp with tears.
Fucking beautiful.
“You wanted me jealous, didn’t you?” I asked.
“Yes, Professor Caine.”
I positioned the crop against her clit, touching but not moving in pleasure or pain. “You succeeded. And now you’re going to take your punishment before letting me use you to remind us both who you belong to. But you wanted that, too. Didn’t you?”
“Yes, Professor Caine,” she repeated, her voice barely a whisper.
Trailing the crop against her pussy as I pulled it back, I saw her arousal coating the leather. Making it slick.
“Seven more, my depraved angel. Don’t count, and don’t come.”
She muttered something that got muffled by the blanket, but the snark was evident.
Thwack.
“What’d you say?” I asked.
“I said no one could possibly come from this… this… this torture!” she said, ending on a sob.
Undoing my pants just enough to free my dick, I fisted it and pressed the head against her soaked hole.
“No one on the receiving end,” she amended.
“I look forward to proving you wrong, but that’ll have to wait. Seven more.”
“But you already gave me one. That leaves six.”
“That one was for your attitude, Miss Wilder. I can give you the full ten, if you’d prefer.”
“No.” Her head shook frantically. “Seven is more than enough.”
Thwack.
Her fingers clutched the blanket.
Thwack.
Tears streamed steadily down her cheek.
Thwack.
Her mouth dropped open, but no sound came out.
Carefully avoiding her pussy, each blow landed in a different spot on her fleshy ass cheeks, all with a varying level of force behind them. Her hold on the blanket had loosened and her body had stopped shifting, though her tears remained.
The last—and hardest—hit connected.
And she did nothing.
She stayed exactly where she was, locked in an obscene yoga pose.
I dropped the crop and slammed into her. As soon as my hands wrapped around her hips, she gave me her weight, no longer able to keep herself upright.
Trusting that I would.
I wasn’t sure if her feet even touched the ground as I rocked her hips, using my hold to slide her up and down my dick.
She didn’t move. Just moaned and tightened, her greedy pussy wanting more.
Needing it.
Needing me a fraction as badly as I needed her.
Willing to give my depraved angel anything and everything, I slid out of her.
Before I could do anything else, her body tightened, and her head shot off the bed so she could look over her shoulder. Her wide eyes were hazy but panicked.
“Trust me.” I lifted her onto the bed, positioning her on her knees at the edge. I stayed standing, filling her at just the right angle to slide the head of my dick against her inner walls.
“Oh fuck,” she moaned. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Her words, her noises, the feel of her, the fucking smell of her. It all dug deeper under my skin until I knew I’d never have her out of my system.
I knew I’d never want to.
She said something, her voice too wobbly and muffled by the blanket to hear.
Fisting a hand in her hair, her back arched erotically as I wrenched her up. “What’d you say?”
A soft, guttural moan traveled up her throat and straight to my tightening balls. She tipped her ass for more.
I swatted at the side of it, hitting a red welt as I bit out, “What did you say?”
“Can I come,” she fought for a breath before finishing, “Professor Caine?”
Her soft, unprovoked question made my vision blur, need hitting me so hard, I’d have gone to my knees if it hadn’t meant leaving the paradise that was wrapped around my dick. I released her hair and reached under to play with her clit. “Come.”
It only took a few flicks of my finger before she exploded, her pussy clutching my dick as it pulsed. She slammed back against me, uncoordinated and eager until she froze.
I kept control of her hips, holding her when she would’ve fallen forward. Standing still, I slammed her up and down my length, using her greedy pussy to drain every drop of come I had.
When I could move again, I stepped away, the glide of her against my spent dick heaven and hell.
I pushed my pants the rest of the way off and kicked them to the side. Gathering her into my arms, I carried her to the top of the bed and sat with my legs crossed and my back against the headboard. She let out a harsh hiss as her raw ass made contact with the rough hair on my legs, but she didn’t move or protest.
Holding her close, I kept my lips against the top of her head as my hands roamed leisurely. Her breathing was slow and even, her silence stretching. I thought she’d fallen asleep, but when I moved to the side, she clung to me.
“I’m just grabbing something, angel,” I reassured her.
She stayed stiff for a moment before relaxing back into me, her cheek sliding against my chest as she nodded.
I got the lotion from the bedside table and rubbed a generous amount on her ass cheeks.
She sighed softly, mumbling, “Better.”
“I need to feed my angel.”
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
“Five minutes.
” My fingers grazed the welts from the crop, the skin hot beneath my touch. Eden’s breath hitching and her hold on my shirt tightening were her only reaction to the sting of pain.
I was wrong about her.
She doesn’t have droplets of darkness.
She has a fucking ocean of it, deeper than I’d have ever guessed.
And I’m drowning.
Chapter Twenty-three
* * *
Perpetually Exhausted Racoons
Eden
Tapping my phone against my bent knee, I sat on my bed and stared unseeing across the room.
It’d been almost a week since Damien and I had started sleeping together. School had been uneventful and normal. We’d pretty much ignored each other like we had before, just without the coldness.
Because I’d still been undecided about my future at Sinners post-skeevy guy, I’d decided to dip into my much-needed but rarely used vacation days. I hadn’t told Damien about taking the whole weekend off, but as always, he’d just known and had lured me to his house nightly with sexual manipulation and sweetly filthy promises.
Not that it’d taken much convincing.
Rather than working myself to the bone—gross pun unintended—I’d relaxed with Damien. I’d watched movies on his lap. I’d eaten meals on his lap. Read on his lap. Fucked on his lap.
Or bent over in front of him.
Or under him, safe and surrounded, the rest of the world blocked out.
Or spread in front of him so he could eat what he called his ‘favorite snack.’
I’d loved it all. Sitting like that was comfortable and comforting—something I wasn’t familiar with.
It wasn’t just about sex. Being around him filled me with so much sizzle and crackle, those words seemed insignificant to describe the way I came alive. My sizzle was molten lava and my crackle was effervescent bubbles in my veins.
That being said, the sex was so phenomenal, I worried I’d become addicted. I hadn’t had the time or energy or, frankly, the desire to overanalyze things. I’d just loved it, in all it’s filthy wrongness.
Most of the time when we’d had sex, he’d been in complete control—of himself and me. He’d ordered me around until I’d been positioned how he’d wanted and doing what he’d wanted, and then he’d reward me with praise that filled my heart and pleasure that… well, filled other places.
A few times, Damien had taken it slow, teasing until I’d been a boneless heap of pliable human, begging him to do whatever he wanted as long as he made me come.
But when he’d fucked me early that morning, it’d been so different, I’d almost have thought I dreamed it had I known to dream something so amazingly perfect.
There’d been just a hint of sunlight peeking through the blinds when I’d opened my eyes, sleep fogging my brain but my body already on the verge of combustion. When I’d shaken off sleep enough to move, searching for what Damien held just out of reach, he’d covered my body with his and slammed deep.
It’d been… I didn’t even know how to describe it.
There’d been no orders or punishment. He’d been intense and unhinged, fucking me with a desperation I’d never experienced before.
I wasn’t sure what’d prompted it, and by the time I’d been capable of speaking, I’d been too exhausted to do more than fall back to sleep in his arms.
I’d happily and eagerly take it any way he wanted to give it because they were all good—he made sure of it. But that had been beyond any dream or fantasy.
Spending time with Damien hadn’t been us just going at it like Viagra-fed bunnies who’d eaten oysters and chocolate while listening to Marvin Gaye.
I’d caught up on school assignments while he’d planned lessons and graded papers—though I’d been adamant we not discuss any of it, even conversationally.
I’d found time to read two whole romance books and get halfway through a third one—something that used to take me months due to lack of free time.
He’d read a progression of political parties book that’d offered intellectual stimulation, but not the good kind like mine had.
And we’d talked. A lot.
It was the last one that’d proved to be most dangerous.
Looking down at my phone, I sighed.
I’d finally quit Sinners. Even without everything with Damien, the idea of returning to work had filled me with dread and unease. I no longer felt safe. I could deal with a lot, push through even more, but I’d never be okay with feeling unsafe. Once I’d made the decision to quit, I hadn’t been able to wait. I’d texted Charlie and asked him to call me when he was awake, assuming he’d be asleep.
Despite the early hour, my phone had rung within a minute, an unsurprised Charlie on the other end. His tone had been filled with resignation even as he’d tried to bribe me back with offers of more nights, then less nights, and finally a promise to fire Hank. I’d turned them all down, which hadn’t seemed to surprise him, either.
I was surprised enough for both of us. Impulsiveness wasn’t my thing. I was a planner, especially when it came to finances. I’d never left a job before securing a new one. And I’d always put in at least two weeks’ notice, as was the proper protocol.
I’ve spent years working for and running to freedom. Making my own decisions. Thinking about number one. Numero uno. Me, myself, and I.
And I’ve thrown it away for some good dick.
My thoughts made me chuckle which turned into a hysterical, bubbling, sidesplitting laugh.
When I got control of my hilarity, breathing heavily and wiping away tears, I realized how happy I genuinely was.
I wasn’t freaking out. I didn’t have the urge to call him back and beg for my job back while claiming I’d sleep-quit. There were stressors that’d likely hit me right as I was trying to fall asleep, but the list of pros was infinitely longer than the cons.
No more late nights.
No more skeevy clientele.
No more bad tippers, no-tippers, and slow nights.
No more asshole bouncers.
With another borderline-maniacal laugh, I flopped back onto my lumpy, broken-spring mattress, my thrift store bed creaking loudly.
There was an echoing thump from the tiny living room.
Tonia must be home.
Footsteps bounded toward my door before she knocked enthusiastically. And knocked. And knocked.
“Come in,” I called repeatedly, finally just yelling it.
The door flung open and Tonia launched herself in. “Finally! How’re you?” She didn’t give me the chance to answer. “I’ve been stalking your room, waiting for you. Did you not see my notes?”
“No, I must have missed it.”
“Not it. Them. On your door. The cork board in the entryway. On the fridge.”
“Oops.” My stomach dropped.
Holy shit, we’re being evicted. Or the building is finally getting condemned. Or she’s moving out.
I just quit my job and now I’ll be living on the streets.
Wait, none of that can be it. I always pay the rent on time. There were no notices on the doors. And I doubt people would be allowed in if it was unsafe.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, trying not to get ahead of myself by more than a football field or ten.
Tonia flopped down on my bed. “Where’ve you been?”
“Around,” I evaded.
“Mmhmm.” She raised her brows, but when I didn’t expound, she gave an exasperated sigh. “Any chance you’ve been around with Brooks?”
“No, why? Is he okay?”
Her smile faded, regret replacing the playfulness in her expression. “Uh huh. Yeah, he’s fine.” Standing, she looked at her wrist even though she never wore a watch. “It’s Wednesday, don’t you have class starting soon? I’ll let you get ready.”
“Tonia,” I warned, pulling her back down.
She sighed. “I swear, I thought it was you. I’m so so so sorry, I wouldn’t have said anything.”
�
�What’re you talking about?”
“Brooks just started dating someone. I went to a party last night with his friend, Keith, and he was telling me Brooks has been out every night for a week. We thought, with you being gone so much, it was you he was seeing.”
He hasn’t called me gorgeous. Or walked me out of class. Or hugged me or kissed my cheek.
I smiled, relief flowing through me that Brooks hadn’t been in a horrible accident and I wasn’t about to be homeless. “Nope, not me. I’m glad he’s seeing someone, though.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You really are.” They widened as she gasped. “Because you’re seeing someone, too. Who?”
“No one. I’ve been at work and school. You’re the one who’s never around.”
Thankfully, my shot in the dark landed and Tonia nodded. “True. Our schedules never lineup since I’m a night owl and you’re a… Wait, you’re an early bird and night owl. What does that make you?”
“A perpetually exhausted racoon.”
She bolted up. “That’s it! My photography final is to shoot an animal in a raw and natural way for an exhibit. A racoon is perfect. I’ll call it,” she raised her arms and spread them apart like an invisible banner, “‘Perpetually Exhausted Eden.’”
“Uhh, thanks?”
“I’ve gotta find a racoon.”
“Right now?”
She shook her head on her way out the door. “No, right now I need to go back to bed for six more hours. I was just going to the bathroom but then I heard you in here and decided to put my foot in my mouth.”
“It’s fine. Go back to bed.”
“Like a normal person at this time.” Tonia walked out only to stick her head back in. “When I said shoot an animal—”
“With a camera.”
“Okay, phew.”
“I know. That kind of misunderstanding could’ve gotten Three’s Company-Dexter crossover real quick.”
“There’s only so many lies that old dude will believe, and blood coated plastic probably crosses that line,” she said as she closed the door.
I looked at the clock and saw it was insanely early for Tonia to be awake, but late for me to still be in bed. I’d showered with Damien that morning, but I still needed to get ready for class and be out the door in less than fifteen minutes.