Page 78 of Hard to Judge

“My orgasm,” I scream before he can clamp it tight. “You said?—”

His teeth on my ear sever my words. Pain makes my body swim for a second before the lave of his tongue tickles it away. “I lied.”

Anger replaces fear, and I launch off the sturdy cross at my back. I place both hands on his chest and shove with everything I have.

Whether I caught him off guard or he let me move him, he staggers. I shoot right away from the scalpels and toward the key.

I can’t see anything and have no reference for where the floor is. My feet find it too quickly. The force buckles my knees, and I go down fast. I brace for the concrete but find a pad underneath my hands and knees. It’s firm but not as deadly as the floor.

My hands seek the edge, needing the concrete. That’s where the key is. Farther into the room. I scramble forward, needing distance from Hota. Needing distance from the blood.

A hand clamps around the back of my neck and shoves my face to the unforgiving surface.

The smack that reverberates around the room registers in my ears a split second before the sting of contact meets my ass. Even through layers of clothes, I feel the burn of his hand.

It quiets my panic and blanks my mind.

He wrenches my legs wide and smacks my ass once more. The leather of my pants meeting his hand sends a whip and snap through the air.

An unholy noise leaves my mouth. It echoes in the darkness.

“That’s it, pain slut, let me hear it.” His hand connects with my other cheek, jiggling my flesh.

I suck in a breath through my nose and moan it out, long and hard. My synapses fire, lighting up my body. My pussy leaks, soaking my panties. “Fuck me!”

Wham!

The whip of his fingers connects with my pulsing cunt. Not even my thick pants can buffer the sting. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.” I pant and arch my back.

“You’d like my pierced dick to tear you up?”

The memory of his ribbed cock shoving its way inside me makes my head spin. “Please.” My hips snap in search of friction. “Hota, please.”

Pressure slides between my ass cheeks. His fingers bear down on my hole through my pants. “I bet you’d even let me take your ass.”

My blood is made of absinthe, and he lit a match. “Yes.” I nod. My hot cheek sticks to the mat.

“But that’s not why we’re here, Hailey.” His hand connects with my thighs in rapid fire, setting off sparks on my skin. “Why are we here?”

“I don’t know,” I lie.

He slaps my clit so hard, I swear it explodes. The force pushes me forward, smashing my face harder into the floor.

“Don’t lie to me,” he snarls.

Before I can form a thought, I’m flying through the air, yanked upright by my hips. He shuffles me toward the cross. Everything in me bellows for me to scream and fight, to kick and punch and free myself.

I don’t know if it’s the buzzing of my adrenaline or the sure man at my back. Either way, in perfect clarity, I know the only way to freedom is through hell.

He places me on the platform and stretches my arms wide. His words to remain still aren’t necessary, not this time.

The straps wrap around my wrist one at a time, and then my ankles are fastened in so tight I can’t escape, even if I wanted to.

A sweet hand curves around my jaw. I can feel his breath on my lips.

“Why are you here?”

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