Chapter Nineteen

The Games He Played

Tucker

Tucker knew better. He shouldn't be playing with her. Games were not what her captivity was about, yet as his fingertips brushed over her heated skin, he couldn't help himself.

He shouldn't spank her again. Not unless she deserved it, and even then, there were better ways she could be punished. An hour in the barn with her mouth gagged would do it, or perhaps just some time hanging from her cuffed wrists outside while he chopped some wood. He'd have to deal with that task sooner or later if he was going to keep the fire burning.

He certainly shouldn't be envisaging a life where liquefying Ella's pussy became custom and practice, even if she was lying about her arousal. She was only supposed to be a temporary challenge—a dopamine hit while he waited for Bennett to finally take ownership of his debt—but in the short time he'd had with her, she'd become so much more.

Ella had unleashed something in him, a need more potent than he'd anticipated. Until that point, he'd have sworn the most primal urge a man could feel was the impulse to kill, especially when he'd been trained to take out a strategic target. The rush of that accomplishment had kept him going for years until his enforced retirement. He certainly would have never expected himself to be overawed by the emotional intensity firing between him and the blonde at his feet.

"Prove it to me?" Her hiss splintered his internal thought process. "It's none of your business."

"What was that, little girl?" He didn't like her tone or that she'd yet again failed to address him correctly—and so soon after he'd reminded her.

"You heard me." Her gaze darted around the space, as though she hoped an emergency exit would open for her. "What gets me hot has got nothing to do with you, sir. I don't need your fucking opinion about it."

"Is that right?" Irritation flared within him. Her defiance was provocative, managing to both anger and arouse him simultaneously. Once more, he was struck by how unique the wildcat was. No other woman had affected him that way. He doubted anyone else could.

"So?" He chuckled at the way her insolence had presented him with the perfect excuse to test his theory. "You do need another spanking, then?"

"What?" Her eyes were as huge as saucers as she tried to rise to her feet. He only needed one hand on her shoulder to push her back to her knees.

"Get off me!" Scratching at his arm, she yelled with frustration. "You have no right to do this!"

Even after everything they'd been through, they were still stuck dancing this same routine. His jaw tightened at the disappointing idea.

I thought we'd got past this.

Perhaps that had been na?ve? Tucker had been a captive once and couldn't imagine ever falling in line for his prison guards. Yet the dynamic between him and Ella was different. The sparks he sensed were perceptible, as was the continual push and pull that goaded him, whether or not she was compliant.

Ella was his little girl.

She only needed another reminder, that was all… and if he could inadvertently demonstrate just how horny his authority made her, all the better.

"Oh, Ella…" His voice had a sing-song quality as he gripped her forearm and rose to his feet. She yelped as he pulled her to her feet alongside him, clawing at his hand as he yanked her away from the licking flames and toward the bed.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was caught between fury and fear as she presumably appreciated how far she'd pushed him.

Too far.

"Showing you." He wanted to grin at her alarm but bit back the gesture. Dragging her to the bed, he took a seat on the edge, still holding her arm despite her best attempts to get away.

Even though the perpetual rise and fall of turmoil between them was neverending, Tucker was starting to love having her around. It helped that she was gorgeous, of course, and smart. He'd assumed Bennett's child would be dim and vacant, but his assumption had been wrong. Ella was engaged and interesting to talk to, and although her life experiences appeared to have been limited, he found her riveting. Tucker had enough life experience for them both, and as it turned out, it was good to have a woman around the place.

Especially one like Ella.

Especially if it meant he got to tan her wonderful hide whenever it suited him.

And it did suit him.

"Show me what?" She compelled the words out between gritted teeth. Loathing shone in her gaze, but he could see the lust interspersed there. Her response was just like usual—she loved him, she hated him, or at least, she loved and detested what he did to her.

"How right I am." A smirk lit up his face as he jerked her closer to the bed.

"Stop that!" she yelled, trying and failing again to pull away from him.

Staring into her eyes, his lips twitched as he wrenched the blanket away from her delectable body. Triumph soared with passion as he offered her the curt reply.

"No."

"What?" Shock danced in her eyes as she watched him throw the blanket onto the bed behind him.

"I said no." Ascending to his full height, he pierced her with the weight of his stare. If there was one thing the military had taught him, it was how to play the long game. He would go to war, take Ella with him, and push her right to the precipice of her limits. But only if he had to. He'd tried to be tender, friendly even, but all that had bought him was more of her insubordination. It was time to remind her of her place.

"I'm going to experiment on you, little girl." He pulled in a deep, satisfying breath. "Push you harder and get you hotter. That way, we'll discover if I'm right or wrong."

"What are you talking about?" She eyed him warily.

"Oh, dear." He spun her body around with ease, catching her when she almost toppled over his forearm. "It looks like you've forgotten how to speak to me."

His right hand was in the air as she called out at his change of tack. It landed hard against her backside, his cock leaping at the heat as it pooled on the surface of his palm.

"Sir." She spat the word at the ground, her delicate hands balling into fists as they flailed in the air. "For fuck's sake, that hurt."

"Good." Dragging her backward a few inches, he resumed his place on the edge of the bed, taking her with him. She tensed as he lifted her over his lap, holding her down with one hand at the center of her back and the other pinioning her right thigh. "I want the strikes to hurt." He didn't resist his smile that time, especially when she attempted to push away from him.

"The way I see it, the more the swats hurt, the wetter you become. That way, I'm right and happy."

***

Ella

Heart racing, her fingers clasped wildly at the hard wooden floor as her senses grappled with what had just happened. Things had been going better between them, hadn't they? He'd trusted her enough to take her outside without ropes, so something had softened in the brute, but now she was upturned over the edge of the bed?

Trepidation spiraled inside her as her fury furled with her anxiety. Taken aback by his sudden use of force, her head spun as she acclimated to her new position. She hadn't been willing to admit that his displays of authority had inspired her arousal, and now, it seemed, Tucker was hellbent on confirming the fact for himself. Dismayed, she tried to push away and slip to the floor, but however hard she tried, she couldn't wriggle free from his gigantic hands.

"Tucker!" She spat out his name as his palm stirred, maintaining its pressure on her as it trailed along her thigh to her behind. "Sir, stop this, please."

"I don't think so."

What was that in his voice? Elation? Was the fucker happy at her desperation?

The answer came to her in an instant.

Of course, he was.

"I think it's time we settled this one way or the other," he continued. "And since you can't address me properly, we can forget the prospect of a ‘fun' spanking."

"Don't do this!" She detested the flicker of fear and despondency in her voice, but she heard it regardless. No doubt, Tucker had heard the emotions, too. "Please, I don't need another spanking. I'm sorry I couldn't admit how I felt, but—"

"No need to beg." His taunting tone cut her off. "Much though I like it, you won't change my mind, little girl."

He squeezed her sore ass, as if the outrageous gesture somehow confirmed his point. She tensed as his fingers slipped between her cheeks, frantic to avoid the so-called punishment.

Ella wasn't stupid. Spoiled, yes, but not a fool. She knew she'd consented to sex with him before, but that didn't mean she gave him permission to explore her now. Her brow creased as he splayed her cheeks gently apart. She definitely hadn't consented to that indignity, but in the stark reality of his cabin, she realized there was little choice.

"You are so beautiful." His voice was husky as his body doubled over hers, and a moment later, his warm lips grazed the small of her back.

"Sir?" Her breaths came faster as she tried to ascertain his next move. He'd promised her a spanking, yet now, his actions spoke of that surreal tenderness again.

What was wrong with this guy? He lurched from cruelty to care in a matter of moments. No wonder she couldn't keep up.

If she was honest, she had enjoyed his dominance. Even though she'd never asked for any of this—hadn't wanted to be offered as collateral by her useless father and certainly hadn't wanted to be taken by the handsome and enigmatic Tucker—the truth was all too apparent. She did like it, adored something about the way he'd handled and treated her. She just hadn't been ready to tell him that.

"Wait." His tone was terse as he straightened over her. Oddly, she missed the heat of his body, the notion furrowing her brow deeper.

Whatever this was—this need to show his strength and control her—it was different from how he'd been before. She felt the pressure at her back as he pinned her down, and just like the time he'd spanked her in the forest, she knew he was serious. What she was less sure about, though, was whether she could withstand another round of his arduous attention.

"You'll wait until I'm ready to spank you."

"O-kay." She pulled in a shaky breath, barely recognizing her breathless tone. "I'll wait, sir."

What else could she do?

Draped over him, she didn't know what to think. She couldn't fight back. She didn't stand a chance against him. She'd seen his muscular body and had mewled at how his flesh felt as it brushed and pressed over hers. He was huge and strong and in control. Even when she had an advantage, she was never going to outrun, outfight, or outmaneuver Tucker Bowman.

"There's my good girl." His patronizing tone goaded her.

Yes, he had the propensity to scare the shit out of her. She'd already met the beast that lurked inside him—the monster that had dangled her in the barn and taken advantage of her and the one who'd walloped her pussy while she'd been tied to his bed. Her breath caught as she recalled that particular punishment. The strikes had hurt like hell, yet she vividly recalled the way that pain had altered, transforming into slick hedonism. She loathed and feared the fiend inside him, but she knew that ogre had the ability to manifest the most intense pleasure.

"Now, how many strikes does a naughty girl like you need, I wonder?"

His question echoed over her, although she didn't know if it required an answer.

"I don't deserve any strikes." She regretted the petulant reply in an instant.

"Is that right?" His voice hardened, and her heart rate spiked at the sound. "I guess we'll agree to disagree about that, but thanks for reminding me that I call the shots."

What? Is that what she'd done?

"I say we start with fifty strikes." His hand patted her rump almost fondly.

"Fifty?" Was he having a fucking laugh? Rage exploded in her head as reflexively, she tried to get up from her place. "You can't!" she complained. "That's too many, sir, I—"

Her sentence was splintered by his vast palm as it left her skin only to come crashing down hard on her prone backside. Her lips parted at the impact, her eyes wide as she recalled just how severe Tucker's swats could be.

Holy fuck!Dread twisted in her throat, making it hard to breathe, but even as she struggled to take air, one thought dominated her mind.

If that was one strike, she would never survive fifty of them.