“Cut off?” I repeated, my voice trembling.

“That’s what I said,” he hummed. “You are a very beautiful girl, Brighton, and I like to look at you. But do I need to put something as simple as pride in your appearance in the agreement as well?”

Whether it was his intention or not, his words actually hurt me. I grew up being treated like trash, and anyone who saw the way we lived would have agreed. But I didn’t like to think it was true.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t have a lot of nice things, but I’ll do better next time.”

“You have a lot to be sorry for today.” He nipped at my ear. “Are you ready to redeem yourself?”

My entire body stiffened beneath him. He said he would punish me, but a part of me had secretly hoped he’d forgotten while he explored my body.

I bit my lip and waited, but he simply pulled it free with his thumb and kissed me. It was soft and gentle. Hesitant even. With the blindfold on, I was so attuned to his every sound that I could hear the change in his breathing. Was it excitement, or duress? What I wouldn’t give to see his face now. To unlock this mystery.

“It won’t be so bad.” He reached forward and tugged a lock of my red hair. “In fact, I think you may even enjoy it. I can tell there’s a little bit of darkness inside of you too, Brighton. Whether you like to admit it or not.”

His words were worse than a slap to the face. Was he insinuating I was like Norma-Jean?

“I’ve often wondered what your vices are,” he continued. “There has to be something. I didn’t believe the sweet and innocent act for a moment. Not until I was inside of you for the first time.”

He flipped me over on the bed during the middle of his little speech, positioning my body on all fours.

“But do you know what I realized that day, Brighton?” he asked. “I think you like to be hunted.”

His hands came down around my hips and squeezed the flesh of my ass. “You like the rough way I treat you, don’t you? Like to be used as I see fit.”

I whimpered beneath him but didn’t respond. I couldn’t. It didn’t matter what punishment he wanted to dole out, I would never admit defeat to this twisted son of a bitch.

He let out an impatient sigh, followed by the distinctive sound of a belt buckle being tugged from his pants.

My legs shook, and I was finding it difficult to keep my composure. Thinking I was strong was one thing, but when it came down to it, I wasn’t. I’d grown up in a rough neighborhood, and I’d been bullied more times than I could count. I was forever being called scum and teased for my red hair. They were just words, but they hurt all the same. If it wasn’t the kids, it was Norma-Jean slapping me around. I thought those things had toughened me up, made my armor impenetrable. I was wrong. Because right now, I was terrified.

His fingers trailed along my spine, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Shhh…” He leaned forward and pressed his lips against the back of my neck. “It’s okay, baby girl. Just breathe for me.”

I took a couple deep breaths, and he kissed his way back down my spine, distracting me. I didn’t like it. I didn’t want him to be gentle or try to comfort me when he was playing these sick games.

“You have a beautiful back,” he murmured. “Every part of you is beautiful, but this…” He pressed his fingers into the dimples on my lower back and squeezed. “This was meant to be naked.”

Something else trailed along my skin then, and it wasn’t his fingers. It was soft, yet hard at the same time. Leather.

I squeezed my eyes shut and took another deep breath, willing myself to stay calm. I could do this. I could do this. I had to do this.

“Do you remember what I said in the agreement about your body?” he asked.

“How could I forget?”

A small sting spread across my skin when he tapped it with the belt. “I’m not playing games here, Brighton. When I ask you a question, I expect an answer.”

“You said my body belongs to you,” I snarled.

He laughed then, stroking his hands over my back again. He couldn’t seem to stop touching it.

“That attitude is going to get you nowhere,” he replied. “But nonetheless, it does amuse me that you still think you’re above admitting it. Am I not up to your standards, my little lotus flower? The high and mighty daughter of Frank Gallo thinks she is too good for me?”

There was clear venom in his words, and it was obvious he was taunting me. It had the intended effect.

“You think you know so much about me?” I spat. “You didn’t do your homework well enough because he was never anything more than a sperm donor. Now let’s get this over with.”