Chapter 17

SEVENTEEN

Laura

T he sickly strawberry taste cloyed against my tongue, the granular texture making me want to puke. How the hell did Phoenix suffer through drinking the shakes all the time? I'd only been having them for what? Ten days or so? Two weeks? God, I was losing track.

I let my mind wander back to the last time I'd seen my house: my family bathed in red and being consumed by orange. Did the police even know I was missing? Did anyone care?

Had Massimo played the devastated fiance? Fooled the world into thinking one of his enemies had taken his beloved woman from him? Or had he simply shrugged and not even given into the pretence that he cared?

Another sip of the wretched liquid fuelled the injustice and anger flowing through me.

Phoenix never drank his shakes in front of me. I'd only see his empty glass to know he consumed anything at all. How many he drank a day to keep his well-muscled body toned, I had no idea.

The way those thick arms had felt holding me against him while he slept washed over me. Warm. Safe. Protective. Yet, he was anything but those things. Phoenix was the enemy. Another Massimo.

Reminding myself was becoming a full time job.

Phoenix stood at the sink, humming to himself as he washed the dishes, his mask still securely around his mouth and nose. Even having shown me the scars inflicted upon him, he preferred to keep it covered.

The third mouthful of the shake came with a lump of unmixed powder exploding against my tongue with its saccharine dry dust. The anger I'd been trying to hide came bubbling up, and I stood, launching the glass at Phoenix. Pinkish liquid splattered up the wall and across the kitchen, shards of glass dispersing amongst the goop.

Phoenix startled, his soapy hands dripping water all over the floor as he turned to survey the mess.

‘I can't take any more of that shit,' I said through my teeth, my nostrils flaring with each of my short, furious breaths. ‘It's disgusting. I'd rather go and eat the fucking grass with the ponies.'

His brow quirked up at that, and with the memory of him forcing me to clean the boat windows with my tongue still fresh, I wouldn't put it past him to mete out that as punishment.

‘‘I need real food.'

Picking up a dish towel, he dried his hands, all the while scanning the mess in the room. Pink shake dripped from the roof, splashing against the floor with a rhythmic tapping.

My thighs quivered as he strode toward me, my heart leaping into my chest. I glanced at the door, but there was no way I could get to it without him intercepting me. Panic rose with every inch closer he came.

Fuck, what was he going to do?

The chair scraped as I backed up, the wall quickly pressing against my spine. There was a devil in his gaze as he came close. Not anger, but something more wicked.

‘I'm sorry,' I muttered, swallowing hard as he closed the space between us. I wasn't, but I hoped it was what he needed to hear.

I flinched as he lifted a hand, but he placed a scarred finger tip on my chest and wrote in slow, steady strokes.

YOU WILL BE

I let out a squeal as he slid his hand up into the back of my hair and used the leverage to pull me forward and roughly bend me over the kitchen table. Strawberry shake squelched beneath my stomach and chest as he pinned me there.

‘I'm sorry. Please?'

My pleas fell on deaf ears. Was he going to fuck me? I'd been expecting it every time he was close to me, but so far he'd refrained, even after I made the bargain with him. Maybe I'd finally pushed him too far. I sent a prayer to whatever gods were listening that it would be quick. That he'd be so unused to sex it would be a three stroke and out affair.

I sobbed as he pulled my leggings and underpants down with his free hand. I waited for his intrusion. A minute passed with the table jutting into my hips and my hair held roughly between his fingers.

Nothing.

My breaths shuddered against the shake covered wood as the cool morning air whispered against my exposed pussy, making my cheeks burn. Was I wet?

Casting the idea from my mind as absurd, I sank back into anger. Why didn't he just do it? Just get it over with.

‘Just do it,' I whispered, screwing my eyes shut.

A garbled chuckle sounded. I pursed my lips at the noise. He was finding this funny. What a fucking douche.

I jumped, jarring my hips against the table, when his finger ran over my ass. I had to concentrate on every stroke to figure out what he was writing.

brATS GET SPANKED

Indignation swept over me.

‘I'm not a fucking brat, I'm just sick of your stupid bloody shakes.'

A heavy slap landed on my right ass cheek, a wave of heat following the sharp pain.

‘Get off,' I screamed, but his firm hold on my hair stopped me from escaping his grasp.

Another spank followed swiftly, stealing my breath. The painful smacks brought tears to my eyes and fire to my ass.

A few more swats had me writhing against the table, struggling against the mounting pain. It burned like the sun had been buried beneath the skin, angry heat radiating from each mark his hands surely made.

‘I'm sorry,' I bubbled, snot mingling with tears and the pieces of my hair which escaped his grasp.

I DON'T BELIEVE YOU

It took every piece of concentration to decipher his letters against my throbbing arse cheeks.

‘I am. I'm so sorry. Please, it hurts.'

What hurt more was the awareness of his warm thigh pressed against my leg, the hardness in his trousers grazing against my hip. The fact that deep down, beneath the rage, something altogether more worrying was brewing. The fact that I knew if he slipped his fingers beneath me, I'd be unable to fight the desire pooling there.

I'd never been spanked, and Phoenix was alighting something inside me that I couldn't ignore.

When another hard swat sent pain whisking through me, I couldn't hold back a desperate little moan. Another spank brought my hip crashing against his hard dick, and I wondered how it would feel filling me. Shame filled me and fought head to head with the lust that his actions wrought.

I wanted it.

And I hated him for it.

My moan made him pause, and my ragged breaths were the only noise in the room.

GOOD GIRL

I sobbed as his praise sent conflicting feelings deep into me. The need to hear him say it, knowing he couldn't, and hatred for talking to me like I was some toy.

His toy.

A shudder darted through me at the delicious wrongness of the thought.

Then my world focused on nothing but one spot as his fingers slid between my legs.

Bliss pulled me into its heady grasp, his fingers finding no resistance with the mess he'd conjured between my thighs.

SO WET he traced against my clit, making me whimper and squirm.

You don't want this.

I screamed the words in my own head, trying to shut out the exquisite touches.

When his fingers stilled, I moved my hips to feel them graze against me, swallowing down the embarrassment of the action.

It's just physiological . It doesn't mean anything.

But fuck it felt good.

The slow strokes as I rocked my hips, sending his fingers sliding against my slickness, made my entire body quiver. My muscles tightened inside me, coiling as if ready to explode and I rode the wave, forgetting to feel shame and chasing a moment's relief from my captivity.

Closing my eyes, I imagined I was somewhere else, with someone else. Imagined it was with a man who adored me. Let myself drift far from the cottage and Phoenix's hands.

So close.

My thighs trembled and I took a gulping breath, ready to tumble into release.

He removed his hand. My hips gyrated against nothing but air and I let out a terrible growl before bursting into frustrated tears.

I'd let him make me want it. And was left with nothing but shame.

He held me fast to the table with his hand in my hair as I cried, leaning over me and using his other finger against my tear stained cheek.

NOT UNTIL YOU BEG

Rage filled me. Rage and desperation. Because I almost begged him right there and then. I wanted to drop to my knees and plead for him to touch me more, and the thought made me want to punch him.

‘I'll never beg,' I said through gritted teeth.

WE WILL SEE

Phoenix held me there until the wave of need had passed, leaving me with a sore ass and a bruised ego. Then he stood, adjusted himself, and left.

I'd kill the fucker. Sob story or not.

A little voice in the back of my mind countered with: But then you can't have his cock.

Never had I known I could be so furious with myself.