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Sweat gathers on the back of my neck and my cock thickens, the urge to bury myself in this girl—my mate—dire. But I know better than to let my father see what is transpiring between us.

I grip the paddle, thinking of how I want to do this, how I want to please my mate. How far I can take this—how far can I push her? Because that’s the truth about Imogene, she’s looking for that line and she hasn’t found it yet.

I reach out, rearing back, striking her hard, twice. She screams, unable to hold it back, but I drop the paddle, my hands snatching out for her nipples. Her eyes widen at my forcefulness—at going off script—and I twist them, sharp and hard, driving another scream from her. Her legs fall apart, and I see the slick wetness between them.

I grab her by the throat and lift her from the chair like a goddamn rag doll.

A slow clap fills the room, followed by my father’s voice. “Bravo, Son. Gave her exactly what she deserved—and a little more.” He chuckles. “You pretend you’re different from me, but we know the truth, don’t we?”

I don’t take the bait. I just say, “I’m going with her.”

He doesn’t fight me, just waves us off. The show is over. He’s moving on, and when I grab Imogene by the waist, holding her up as we pass by him and his shiny group, I see Jasmine’s hand on his lap, stroking an obvious erection.

Well, I guess she will fit in here perfectly, after all.

Silas is the last person we pass, still bound and guarded. Our eyes lock, his red-rimmed and worried. Something deep transpires between us. Something I’m not ready to accept.

In a small sitting room. One where Anex entertains members of the inner circle. Female members. There’s only one way out and I shut it behind us.

“Rex.” My name comes out as a moan, and she sags against my side, body rubbing against mine.

“Hold on, baby,” I say, kissing her neck. “I’ll take care of it.”

She’s impatient—grinding her pussy against my thigh. I feel the warmth through my pants. Her fingers twist in my shirt and she looks up at me, tears streaming down her face.

Not out of fear or humiliation. Out of want.

Reaching between her legs, I groan at the slippery heat. “God, Imogene.”

She bucks against my palm, her pussy seeking friction. Something primal comes over me, the urge to satisfy my mate. I slam her into the wall, using the surface to hold upright. Crashing into her body, tongue thrusting inside her mouth, two fingers sinking deep in her pussy.

She cries out, teeth rattling. I fuck into her, seeking the quick release she so desperately needs. The walls of her pussy are tight, clamping around my fingers. I add in a third, stretching her.

“Let go, Imogene,” I tell her, licking her tongue. “You’re safe here. You’re a good girl. You’re such a good, good, girl.”

Her eyes open, meeting mine. I grab her thigh, lifting her leg, and hook it over my waist. The shift in angle is what triggers the release. I feel every wave of it, in her straightening spine, the clench of her pussy, the vibrating groan deep in her chest. Her head falls to the side, the tension finally easing. I hold her up, hold hertome, and lift her in my arms. Crossing the room, my hand thrusts out to brace us as I lower us to the couch and settle her in my lap.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she says quietly. With the urgency past, I take a moment to assess her wounds. Her tits look rough, with red welts rising, nipples looking raw and sore. “The more it hurts, the more I want.”

“It’s a kink, baby.” I press a gentle kiss against the swell of her breast. “Silas taught you about that?”

She nods, chest slowly rising and falling at the feel of my lips. “He told me, but that in there… it went somewhere different.”

“Exhibitionism. Punishment. Degradation.” I ghost my palms over her nipples, barely touching them. “My father primed you for this kind of desire, Imogene. The corrections and deprivation. The need for approval. He’s a goddamn son of a bitch.”

“That makes it worse. He’s everywhere, Rex. In my mind and body.”

My heart feels heavy, weighed down by the trauma of what we just went through. How sex and intimacy is always part of a game—a manipulation.

“I went too far,” I tell her. “I lost myself in the moment. It was wrong.”

She shifts in my lap, her crotch heavy against my cock. “You gave me what I wanted.”

“You only want it because he’s created that desire in you.” I grab her face, forcing her to look at me. “He may have created this, but you get to own it.” My thumb catches a tear. I fucking hate seeing her cry. “I get to be the one that helps you through it. Not him.”

Her lips blaze across my cheek. “And I get to help you.”

She rises to her knees, hands grabbing at my waist, creating room to push down my pants. My shirt goes next and then she’s back on me, pussy warming my swollen dick. Her pale hair curtains around us and I take her tits in my hands, carefully squeezing them together, lathing my tongue over her nipples. I want her to feel the good in my touch—not just the pain. There’s a place for both of those but right now, in this brief respite from my father’s insanity, I want her to feel cared for.