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I scream when his hand cracks on my ass. I melt for him when he does that again.

“Desperate to be my filthy girl. Shaking with how badly you need to be punished. To be humiliated. By me, and only me. Isn’t that right?”

I’m panting, painfully needing him. He brushes my hair to the side, to my back. So I can see him. So he can look at me while he tears my panties off me.

“James!”

“You’ve already ruined them yourself, Sonnet.”

To make matters worse—to embarrass me until I’m burning everywhere for him—he brings them up to his face, studying them. Pressing the soaked material to his nose and inhaling. He’s doing it deliberately slow to mortify me.

He succeeds. I’m struggling to hold his gaze. I wish the ground would swallow me up. That I’d disappear.

I wish I could have him inside me. On me. To have him hurt me like only he knows.

“Were you that wet for me?” He shoves the black material into his pants pocket, just as he had done with the gold keys to the cell all those weeks ago. “Or for him?”

He jerks his chin toward the urn, coaxing an undignified gasp out of me. I choke on air, eyebrows shooting up.

Ignoring my shocked expression, he holds my gaze. Serious. Demanding.

“Well?” He smacks my ass in the same place that’s sore by now.

“You,” I whimper. This shouldn’t be such a turn-on. This is fucked-up, dirty game we’re playing.

But right and wrong don’t matter in this room. There’s just us here. Dark and twisted andus. “It was for you. Always you.”

“Hmm.” He strokes my hair, running the pregnancy test through the strands in a possessive gesture. “Better, but too little, too late. I’m still not convinced.”

Sliding the hand he has in my hair down my back, over the scar, he lights up every nerve ending on my body.

“About what?” I gasp and moan, clenching my thighs on air.

“That you really want this, me. That I’m the one who gets you so hot you can hardly stand it.”

“You are.”

My shaky words go right over his head. He spanks me, and this one hurts everywhere.

I’m almost there, almost coming on nothing, when he shoves two fingers into my pussy.

“Oh God.” Maybe it’s the pregnancy making me this sensitive. This feral. Could be.

Mostly, it’s James.

Always James.

“That’s right. That’s what I am. Your fucking God.” He’s moved so he’s kneeling, pulling his fingers out of me. I cry a desperateno.

“That’s a good girl.” The evidence of my arousal is obvious on his fingers. In the white light of the snow. I’m soaked and panting when he puts them in his mouth and groans. He’s just as feral as I am. “And good girls get their reward.”

“Reward?”

Another spanking leaves a wet mark on my ass. James’s face is all sharp angles. The muscles are pulled tight. He’s barely hanging on himself. His cock is about to tear through his pants, the only indication that he’s as desperate as I am.

“You’re going to do even better for me, won’t you?” Gracefully, James leans toward me, placing his hand on the floor.

“How? Tell me how.”