Page 330 of Primal

Derek clucks his tongue. “That all you got?”

He pushes off the altar. “I said spank her. Not pat her like a fucking Golden Retriever.”

Then he reaches for her—

I want to snap his wrist. Break his fucking hand.

But Amanda’s still behind me. Taser hot and hungry, aimed right at my spine. One twitch, and I’ll get us both killed.

So I stand there. Fists clenched. Jaw locked.

And I watch that bastard lift her skirt.

No panties. Of course. I tore the first pair off her. And the other’s still zipped in the backpack I never brought her.

She stands there, bent over marble, her stillness the only thing he can’t rip from her.

Derek whistles low. “Now that’s better.” He steps back. “Make it nice and red, Ghostface. Or I will.”

Payton shifts. A tilt of her head. A glance over her shoulder. ‘Don’t you dare let him do it.’

And in that single look, I see it. She’s still fighting—just in a different way.

This time, when my palm meets skin, the whole chapel flinches.

Her breath stutters. Her spine arches. And the sound she makes?

It’s not pain.

It’s power.

I push the next slap louder. Harder.

This is how we fucking stay alive.

I pour it in—the fury I can’t spend, the helplessness chewing through my ribs.

Again.

And again.

Her flesh’s warming under my hand. Her breath catching just so. The ghost of a whimper she doesn’t let out.

Derek circles us, knife dragging along the altar’s edge. “Now that’s more like it.”

Her ass is flushed. Those marks. Mine.

My cock stirs—enough to make me want to claw out of my own skin.

His gloved hand brushes her reddened ass—

I step between them before I even register the taser jabbing my spine.

“Back off,” Amanda hisses.

Derek laughs, tapping the tablet balanced on the altar. “Let’s skip to something more … interesting.” The screen lights up with another one of her checked boxes.

anal play.