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“Open the door.”

My brows furrow as I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. But I wipe my hand on my shorts and ease the doorknob open. The room is dark enough to conceal me, but I feel exposed to the empty hallway.

“Lift your shirt. I want your tits out.”

“I can’t,” I whisper, though my body betrays the protest. The ache inside me continues to grow.

“Do it, Zaiya. Or I’ll have you strip naked instead.”

I hate how badly his threats make me ache. Walking around naked in this house is wrong, but the thought of him forcing me to do it makes me throb.

I lift the shirt just above the bottom of my breasts.

“I did it.”

“Tsk, tsk. Every time you lie, I make your punishment worse.”

My head whips towards the bedroom window so fast it makes me dizzy. The curtains are pulled, but there’s a crack between them.

I let out a breath and pull my shirt up to fully reveal my breasts, turning my attention back to the hallway, eyes on the two bedroom doors I’m praying will stay shut.

“Go to the living room.”

I’m happy to get farther away from the doors, so I slip into the hall, every step placed with care. The old hardwood sounds louder than ever, creaking and groaning despite my best efforts to avoid the known problem areas.

I pause to listen for anyone coming.

Nothing.

The living room is dark except for the weak light left on over the kitchen sink that spills through the doorway. Enough to make hiding impossible.

“I don’t want to get caught,” I whisper, glancing back down the dark hallway.

Edwin doesn’t share my concern. He ignores it.

“Bend over the arm of the couch. Get your ass up.”

I picture him watching me as I obey his command. Following directions feels safer than acting on my own. Depravity carries less weight when the choice comes from someone else.

With my body bent this way, it’s hard not to roll my eyes at how ridiculous I must look, standing alone out here like I’m trying to entice a man. My breasts hang down to the cushion, and as weird as it is, I can almost feel his hands on them.

“What comes to mind as you stand there like a needy little slut for me?”

My jaw drops and I push my torso up from the couch as if I could look him in the eyes with disgust.

“Don’t pretend like that offends you. You’re standing there with your ass presented to me.”

With a sigh, I lower myself until my forehead rests against the couch. I inch my feet apart just a little, thinking of his eyes focused between my legs. Shame crawls up my throat, but I swallow it down.

“Now tell me what’s going through your head. What do you want me to do to you?” he asks.

I’m afraid to make my thoughts real by speaking them into existence. But he keeps prodding at the desire I’ve kept dormant, begging it to break free.

“Spank me.”

His hum of approval sends my thoughts wandering further.

“You crave my discipline.” He sounds almost amused.