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My back arched, my thighs shook, and I cried out, helpless against the intensity of it. Pleasure tangled with pain, the sensations blending, the line between the two all but gone, and I shattered in Silas’s lap.

He growled, the sound feral and raw, his arm squeezing me, his body shuddering beneath me, but his finger never slowed, fucking my sore bottom hole right through the orgasm until I was nothing but a panting, trembling, whimpering boneless mess.

My body lay over his thighs, limp and satisfied in a deeper way than I ever thought possible. I pulled in one ragged breath after the next, trying to put my head on straight after such a soul-shattering experience.

It was over, right? I’d come. He’d punished my ass both inside and out and now… well, now he was gently, almost reverently sliding his finger out of my backside.

I groaned, burying my face against the sheets in shame, my skin hot, my legs shaky. My ass was sore, throbbing, my entire body aching in the best possible way.

I barely registered the soft, pleased rumble of his voice.

“Good girlsgetto come, Wildcat. Bad girls aremadeto come.”

And then he pushedtwofingers inside my ass. Though the one finger was still slick, the other wasn’t, and the rough fingering hurt far more the second time than the first.

“Noooo,” I cried, squirming, trying to buck off his lap.

Silas showed no pity.

He was unrelenting, stretching me, forcing me open, his fingers moving brutally, mercilessly. It burned, sending a fresh wave of agony coursing through me.

But beneath it—beneath the pain, the discomfort, the shame and the mortification and the sheer disbelief—was that undeniable, terrifying pulse of hot desire.

I was still sensitive, still throbbing, still riding the lingering waves of pleasure, and yet, as much as I wanted to deny it, another orgasm was already building inside me.

Too quickly, too intensely.

I shook my head, my hands twisting in the sheets, trying to take it, but I realized something in that moment: it wasn’t up to me.

It was up to him. Fuck.

“Please, Silas,” I begged, my voice breaking, the words barely audible.

“Please, what?” His voice was strained now, the words forced out, like it was taking everything in him to hold back.

“Please, make it stop,” I whimpered.

“Make it stop?” he repeated, his tone darkening, his fingers curling inside me just slightly.

I froze at the sound of his voice.

Shit.

He leaned over me, his chest pressing against my back, his voice rough in my ear.

“You don’t tell me when to stop, little mate,” he growled, his voice stern and dangerous. “You don’t tell me how to fuck you. And you sure as hell don’t tell me when your punishment is over.”

His fingers jammed in deeper, and a strangled sound escaped my lips, the pain ratcheting up.

“When you’re spread out across my lap like this, when your ass is red and burning from my hand, when you’re filled with my fingers—or my cock—that’s all up to me.” His words were dense with satisfaction, his tone dark and possessive, and I shuddered. “You’ll take whatever I give you, whenever I decide to give it to you. And when I say it’s not over until I decide it is, then that’s how it’s going to be.”

Another whimper escaped me, and I clenched my jaw, biting my lip hard to keep from making any more pathetic noises.

“Do you understand?” he demanded.

His voice was menacing, demanding an answer. His fingers still worked relentlessly, callously, fucking my ass, claiming every inch of me, and God help me, I wanted him to.

I swallowed hard, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, and then I slowly nodded, showing him that I understood.