Hold On

“I’m just kidding. It doesn’t hurt at all.” It’s the truth. My shoulder was dislocated but since the doctor popped it back in place, it’s hardly bothered me at all, but Marshall is acting like I’m on life support.

He rolls his eyes and blows out a deep breath. “If I wasn’t so happy to have you here, I’d be pissed. Stop playing, little one.”

The three of us are in a hotel on Lake Tahoe. Marshall wanted to get away. The police took our statements, and I had evidence of chloroform on my lips and in my bloodstream. Between that and the file folder, Bethany found in Carver’s desk, the case will more than likely sail straight to a conviction.

I’m glad I never saw the file. Just the description of it is sickening. Carver’s obsession with me, his stalking, all of it was in there, but that was just the tip of the iceberg. Links to sites on the dark web where he sold his videos, records of payments, names of people he planned to extort more money from on account of their preferences…a real horror show.

But whatever happens with him, we have some time before there’s any more legal activity, so Marshall wanted to take me somewhere special to heal and regroup.

It’s been two days since the whole incident with Carver. The fire took most of the house before the firefighters put it out, and Marshall and I have been talking over whether we will just demo the rest of it and start over, building our own dream home on the property, or salvage what is left.

Little did I know, Marshall had already purchased a hundred other acres around the little house and was going to surprise me once we solidified the plans for the renovation.

Carver is still in the hospital, but he’s already been charged with aggravated assault and unlawful imprisonment, along with a few other charges. I smashed his head pretty good, but everyone’s satisfied that it was self-defense. He has a severe concussion with a crack in his skull and forty staples holding his scalp together.

Buddha’s contribution was no laughing matter, either. He inflicted enough damage to earn him the Congressional Medal of Honor, in my opinion. It took over a hundred stitches to put Carver’s leg back together.

“Sorry,” I say to Marshall on a shrug.

He shakes his head with a crooked smile. “Not as sorry as you’re going to be.” He eyes me with that look that tells me I’ve crossed the line, and punishment is imminent. “Bend over.”

Marshall’s hands move to my wispy nightgown and he tugs it up and over my hips, exposing me in the morning light of the hotel suite. As always, when he looks at me like that, I feel like the most beautiful, slutty girl in the world, and it makes me come alive. I move to the edge of the bed, lower my feet to the floor and turn around, bending at the waist, my hands on the mattress. I can already feel my wetness gathering.

It’s only been a few hours since we made love during the night, but I want him again without any doubt. I want all of him and everything we’ve already planned for our life. Whatever he gives me, I want.

Even this kind of pain.

His hand comes to press into the center of my back, holding me down, and I’m already whimpering in anticipation of what comes next.

I hear a rumble from behind me, a primal, animalistic sound, and I suck in a breath, my whole body vibrating in the calm silence of the room.

The first smack makes me yelp, bringing with the shock a rush of arousal that courses through me in a searing wave. My skin is alive, tiny fireworks exploding where the hot sting of his hand has left its mark. The muscles of my inner thighs tighten as my need grows, knowing after the pain will come unabashed pleasure.

A second smack on my other cheek is harder, and I wince, tears springing to my eyes as the third and fourth are laid on top of the others, the sensation growing with each layer of pain.

“You going to be a good girl? You going to tease me some more, little one?”

“Please… No.” I rock my hips back.

“No?” Another sharp smack has me crying out, but slick wetness covers my inner thighs.

“I mean yes, I’ll be good.”

“That’s better.” His huge hand rubs the hot skin on my rear end, circling the pain and turning it into something else. “You know you are mine, don’t you? Mine to do with as I will. Mine to use. Mine to cherish. Mine to love.”

I nod, his hand still firm on my back, holding me in place as I hear the click of his belt buckle, the soft rasp of a zipper, then feel the touch of his cock running up and down through my hot folds. He releases a groan of desire, of pure need, of tortured control.