Page 145

Little whore.
I paid for her to live. She was technically my cat. But she’d go home with Elliot. When he left.
The rustle of his belt against his jeans, watching him dress in preparation to leave me—even though I deserved that. I couldn’t handle it.
I turned my back to leave. To go find coffee. A pillow to scream into. But my foot had barely lifted when Elliot spoke from behind me.
“Bend over.”
My body froze.
I took a second to turn.
He wasn’t dressed. He was holding his belt, standing there in pure perfection, belt in his hands, eyes dark and lids heavy.
“Excuse me?” My voice shook.
“I told you I’d be marking your skin with my belt, didn’t I?” he asked, voice deep. “And I’m pretty sure you running off, putting yourself in danger, keeping secrets from me under the mistaken assumption that you were protecting me, constitutes more than enough shit to punish you for.” His jaw flexed.“Then suggest I just walk away from you like you’re not my whole fucking world?” He shook his head. “Bend the fuck over, Calliope. Take your punishment for that.”
My vision tilted. He was serious. He wasn’t leaving me. Wasn’t disgusted by me if the outline of his cock beneath his underwear was anything to go by. I hadn’t scared him off. I’d said plenty of unforgivable things, done plenty of unforgivable things.
“Elliot,” I began, unable to let him forgive me, stay with me.
“Calliope,” he growled. “Get on the bed. Present that ass to me. Take your punishment.”
My legs moved of their own accord before I could protest further. My inner walls tightened with need I didn’t imagine I’d be feeling for a long time after the events of the previous night. The last thing I expected Elliot to do was demand this of me.
I expected him to treat me gently, softly, as he had last night. As if I were a broken, ruined thing.
But there he was, punishing me, like he believed I was strong enough to take it.
“Robe off,” he ordered as my shins hit the bed.
I obeyed him, the silk pooling at my feet.
“Panties too.” His voice was quickly turning guttural.
My panties joined the robe as I stepped out of them, my pulse racing and my skin no longer ice-cold, my body no longer weighed down by the load of my sins, my responsibilities.
I placed my palms on the bed, presenting my bare ass to him.
Having expected pain, I shivered as leather ran delicately along my skin.
Elliot’s fingers ghosted over my hip before moving between my legs where I was soaking for him. I gasped at the contact, but it wasn’t enough to get me anywhere. No way would he let me come.
I expected him to prepare me, ask me when I was ready, to treat me with care. He didn’t.
The slap of the leather against my skin came first, then the white-hot pain. Not unbearable. It was perfect. Warmth flooded my core, my chest.
I arched up toward him, his hand caressing the throbbing skin.
When the belt came down again, I flinched, and my teeth sank into my lip, drawing blood.
Elliot’s hand was between my legs again, toying with me for longer this time, bringing my pleasure forward where it mingled with the pain.
“Can you handle one more?” His throaty tone wafted over my heated skin.
“Yes,” I hissed, my voice broken.