“Not yet,” he says, his voice even more gruff now. “Not until I deal with you and the trouble you’ve caused me. Have you ever had your face slapped before, Tallulah?”
I remain on the bed, fixated on his gaze. I don’t want to answer, but something tells me he doesn’t care either way. He’s going to take all his anger out on me.
“It doesn’t really matter to me,” Xavier shrugs carelessly. “Even better if you haven’t. I can’t wait to see the look on your face when I do it for the first time. Now, are you ready?”
“Ready for w-what?” As brave as I’m hoping to sound, I can’t hide my shaky voice.
He merely smirks, pointing to the circular rug on the hardwood. “Kneel here before me.”
I attempt to get up to do as he’s told me, but I’m stopped by his outstretched hand, motioning to the ground.
“No. Crawl.”
Humiliation burns my cheeks as I force myself to get on my knees and crawl to the middle of the rug. I sit on my side, but Xavier shakes his head, once again displeased with my obedience.
“Sit properly,” he barks at me. “Back straight, hands on your knees. Let me see you be a good girl for me.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I position myself properly the way he wanted me. My hands shake and I dig my nails into my knees, hoping it will bring some kind of relief. Perhaps Xavier knows me a little too well, with the pain especially. He seems to know exactly what I’m craving.
Still, when he hits my right cheek for the first time, I’m shocked by how strong he is and how much he’s holding back to me. I can feel the weakened force of his slap reverberating through his body, reminding me he could have hit me so much harder. But I know he wouldn’t do that to me.
I touch my palm to my burning cheek, glaring at Xavier. But he stares back with the same ferocity, reminding me I’m nothing but a pawn in another one of his sick, twisted games.
“Say thank you, angel,” I mutter.
“For what?” I hiss, discontent dripping through every pore.
“Say thank you for slapping me, Xavier.”
“No,” I shake my head vehemently. “I’m not saying that.”
“Are you sure about that?” With a menacing clank, he opens his belt and pulls it through the loop of his slacks. He holds the black leather in his hands, the buckle hanging free as he stretches the fabric out between his arms. “I think you’ll change your mind pretty quickly.”
“Thanks,” I finally mutter, my rebellious side taking a backseat to the fear his presence fills me with.
“Not like that,” Xavier snarls. “Say thank you properly, like a good girl. Don’t disappoint me again.”
Despite how much I want to hate him, I still feel a sense of respect for Xavier, making me unable to deny him his request.
“Thank you for slapping me, Xavier,” I whisper, feeling slightly chastised.
“You’re welcome, angel.”
The moment he finishes his words, another slap rings through the room as he hits my other cheek. I yelp, massaging the burning skin where he hit me.
“Do I need to tell you what to do every fucking time?” he hisses at me. “Learn some manners, angel. I will not coddle you forever. You need to become responsible for your own actions.”
“Thank you for hitting me, Xavier,” I mutter.
“And what else?” he asks, making my questioning gaze bore into his. He laughs. “Come on, be creative, angel. I know you’ve got it in you.”
“Please...” I swallow my pride to allow the next words to spill from my lips. “Please, Xavier, will you slap me again?”
He does.
And again.
And again.
And again.
I count twelve slaps before he stops. By now, tears are freely streaming down my mascara-streaked face, though I refuse to cry for him audibly. I’m proud of the fact I haven’t sobbed once. I’ve long since decided Xavier doesn’t deserve my tears. Just because he forces me to cry by being violent doesn’t mean I’ll give him any other satisfaction.
This is simply an instinct my body is acting on. Not because I’m turned on, not at all. Because I fear Xavier Gunn.
“Are you going to apologize for locking the door?” Xavier finally asks, his eyes following mine. “You paid the price, now give me your penance.”
“No,” I shake my head. “I won’t apologize for wanting some privacy.”
“You don’t get to have privacy,” he grunts. “Not when you’re with me.”
“You realize how oppressive that sounds, don’t you?” I narrow my eyes at my guardian. “You’re not my owner.”
He just smirks, as if he knows something I don’t.
“Apologize,” he says firmly, his voice leaving no room for arguments.
“No.”
“Apologize, Tallulah.”
“No!”
He makes a grab for me but I’ve already lept from the bed. I’m running to the broken-down door when he catches me, strong, muscular arms wrapping around my mid-section and bringing me back to the bedroom, where he throws me on the canopy bed.