Page 17 of The Shadow Sanctum

Just go. These two words, I almost say. My vocal cords are beginning to thaw.

He guides me back against the pole, his fingers brushing my ear, smoothing my hair. His thumb circles my temple, easing the tension there.

“Open your eyes,” he whispers.

I resist. At first.

But his touch is insistent, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw, his other hand cupping my shoulder, then sliding down to circle my collarbone.

I look at him, feeling the hardening of my face without even trying. I think it’s a reflex. One that doesn’t faze him as he peers into my eyes, one at a time. When his gaze settles, I hold my breath.

“Good girl,” he coos, tucking my hair behind my ear.

"Now," his voice deepens, a hint of something darker lacing his words, "Tell Daddy what you deserve."

Sensation rushes back into my face in the form of lava, burning my cheeks.

He doesn’t repeat himself. He doesn’t look embarrassed, awkward, or uncomfortable. He just stares at me, waiting for me to make my move.

I called him a coward, but it couldn’t be clearer who the coward is.

“Punishment.”

"Why?" He leans closer, his breath hot against my ear. "Tell me exactly how bad you've been, Luna."

I open my mouth. Close it. Inhale a deep breath. We’ve been through this line of questioning already, but … over the course of two words, everything has changed. It will never, ever be the same.

There’s no point in hiding now.

“I defied you. I…” I swallow as a shiver crosses my shoulder, a cold fingertip tracing my flesh. The world feels like it teeters, like I’ve momentarily lost control. My fingers merely twitch, but I feel as though I’m grasping for balance, clawing for some semblance of stability.

I let out a shaky breath and look Sawyer square in the eye. “I was disrespectful.”

“Yeah,” Sawyer nods slowly, like he agrees, “you were.” His hand moves to circle my neck while the other curves around the back of my thigh. He lifts me off the ground and guides my legs around his waist.

“But you wanna make it up to me, right?”

I nod, his light grip on my neck tensing with my movement. “Yes, Daddy.” The word slips out as a choked whisper. I cringe at the way it sounds, my chest retreating into my shoulders.

Shame and longing twist together into a knot in my chest. My eyes dart to his, searching for disgust. Revulsion. Relief. I find none of these, but I don't know what remains.

"Good girl." He kisses the shell of my ear with fiery lips as he lines up at my entrance.

His hand cradling my tailbone, he gently eases me onto him, filling me up while my lips part with a gasp.

My eyes lock onto his when he pulls back, and I note the emptiness in them. Devoid of guilt. He looked like this before, during my days as his captive. It terrified me then. It made me think he was capable of anything.

Now, in this strange, twisted moment, it’s the only thing holding me together.

I release my breath in a rush and let my eyes flutter closed while my arms rest on his shoulders.

“That’s it,” he whispers, pressing his finger beneath my chin to lift it while gently squeezing my neck with a silent threat. “That’s my sweet girl.”

He gives me a hard thrust, knocking my rear against the pole. I stare at the ceiling while his hand keeps my head up and groan past the pressure on my neck.

He grinds against me, finding friction against my clit without needing to use his hands. The drag is nice, but the intrusion hurts. I’m not lubricated. I’m not sure I want to be. The pressure, the pain, the raw friction against my skin, it's a lifeline, a distraction from the gaping wound that never heals. And while I don’t know exactly what I want, I just… I think Sawyer might.

As a minute passes, my walls relax, and his thrusts come smoother.