Page 143 of Monster

“Luckily for you, I’m not giving you a spanking right now,” he said, his voice light.

“I don’t feel lucky.” I pounded my fists on his back in frustration. He growled and‌ matched each pound with a smack.

Fuck.

I gave up. I did not want him to spank my ass anymore.

I let my arms fall, hissing a little when he cupped one of my ass cheeks, the sting almost unbearable.

“Good girl,” he said, pushing his hand in my crease. I bit my lip to keep from making any noise when he started to rub up and down.

“Fuck, you’re wet for me,” he said, his voice rough. “Is this from the spanking? Are you turned on by a little bit of pain? ’Cause, baby, once you’re healed, we can fucking play as much as you want.”

My eyes squeezed shut when his fingers found my slit, and he delved two fingers inside, pumping in and out of me while he walked. I didn’t even know which part of the house we were in anymore until he flipped me over and placed me on a weird-looking chair in his office. The wall in front of the chair was a body-length mirror, but because of the angle, I couldn’t see myself in it, thank God. I didn’t want to know what I looked like.

“What are you doing?”

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled back until I looked at him. He leaned down and kissed me. “Owning you,” he said.

I watched as he pulled out some silk ropes, and when I tried to get away, he simply held me still, tying my body to the chair. I kicked him when he got to my legs, but he overpowered me quickly, and soon I was tied to the leather chair that looked suspiciously like the ones at tattoo parlors.

My suspicion was fucking confirmed when he pulled out the tattoo gun and started setting everything up.

“Dominic, no,” I said, panic clearly in my voice.

I shook my head. I already knew what he was planning on doing. The bastard was going to tattoo his fucking name on my skin.

Own me, as he said.

He put the gun down and cupped my cheeks with both hands. “It’s all right. This will be done quickly, I promise.”

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” I asked, my voice hitching at the end. Of all my concerns, this should be the least of it—but fuck, if I didn’t have a choice, I didn’t want to bear messed-up ink on my skin forever.

He shot me an amused smile and pulled away from me. “I used to be a tattoo artist in Las Vegas. I’m fucking good, too. I would not mess up your beautiful skin, and I would be damned if I let some other bastards see you like this, or hell, touch you.”

His heated eyes made their way down my body. I could only imagine how I looked right now, and I regretted not putting on some clothes before I came downstairs this morning.

I wiggled a little, but Dominic must have had some experience with bondage because though the restraints didn’t hurt, I couldn’t move either.

“You can’t tattoo me,” I tried to argue. My voice sounded weak even to my ears. I was tied up and completely at his mercy.

His lips quirked in another smile. “No?”

“Dominic, be serious. You can’t do this to me.”

He moved his hand down and cupped my pussy. “Why not?” he asked as his fingers swirled around my clit. My back arched—or, at least, tried to—and my legs shook from the sensation.

He picked up speed.

“Tell me why I can’t do anything to you. I fucking own you, don’t I?”

“I’m not a toy to be owned,” I groaned, my toes curling.

He delved two fingers inside me. My walls clenched around him automatically as he fucked me.

“No,” he agreed. “You’re not a toy. You’re the woman I am fucking obsessed with. The woman I can’t let go. So I am doing what I told you I would do from the very start. I’m keeping you. Now, come for me, wildcat. Be a good girl and come.”

Oh, fuck.

---