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“You ripped my flowers out.”
I feel it. The excited shiver rippling down her spine. Drawing in a deep breath, she cranes her neck up to me, eyes sparkling.
“What’s the punishment?”
Dahlia
Cillian told me to dry off and meet him in his office in ten minutes, and my punishment will worsen with every second I’m late.
My knees are trembling and I don’t know whether it’s from the anticipation, fear, or a delicious cocktail of both. I rush to the hut, briefly step under a running shower, towel dry my hair, then tug on a fresh pair of shorts and a T-shirt. As I assess my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I notice two things:
The grin splitting my face in two.
The sight of the purple-ish love bite on my neck gives me some sick, twisted feeling of pride.
It feels like he’s staked a claim on me. I’mhis.
My heart sinks a few inches behind my rib cage when I remember:for the month, anyway.
But I don’t have time to dwell on anything but what’s waiting for me behind the glass of Cillian’s office. I jump over the stepping stones, follow the river downstream, and despite the rushing of the waterfall, I can still hear the blood whooshing around my ears.
What greets me as I enter Cillian’s office makes me choke on my own breath.
Him. Naked. Very naked. As in, every carved-from-stone muscle and bulging vein in his body is on display. He’s sitting on the couch in his office, one ankle resting on his thigh, arm draped over the backrest, his cock eye-wateringly hard and unapologetic about it.
He greets me with a smoldering stare. “I didn’t tell you to put clothes on.”
“Sorry,” I whisper, slipping each garment off faster than I put it on.
There it is. That animalistic, lustful look he gives me every time I drop my clothes to the floor. The look where he drags his eyes over the soft lines of my body, and you can practically see the cogs whirring in his brain as he thinks up a million ideas of what he wants to do to me. Warm, comforting excitement trickles through my body like it’s being delivered by an IV drip. I’m becoming addicted to it. He’s using me for my body, sure. But when his blistering stare runs over my flesh, I feel like I’m the only woman in the world.
“Better. Come here.”
My heart hitches in my chest. Cillian’s body dominates the space, and it’s like a looming black hole. I’m scared to get close to it, but the thought of doing so excites me at the same time.
My legs are like lead, but his gaze is even heavier, pulling me closer. I manage to drag myself over to him, hovering in front of him awkwardly.
He flashes a smile, a demonic one that I see for less than a second before he wraps a hand around my wrist and an arm around my waist, and in one swift motion, pulls me onto his lap.
Head down, ass up.
Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod.
Is he going to—?
“Breathe,” he commands me in a gruff voice, lightly tracing the curve of my thigh. “And listen to me.”
I’m still. Fingers curled into my palms and every muscle in my body tensed.
“You broke one of my rules, Dahlia,” he says smokily. “And what happens when you break rules?”
I falter, before muttering into the leather seat of the sofa, “You get punished.”
“And do you believe you should be punished, Dahlia?”
“Y-yes.”
“So, you want me to punish you?”
