But I can’t.
Not when she’s like this.
Not when anger and fear have melted into desire and dominance.
Not when she’s bent over for me. Still. Silent. Waiting.
I slide my handdown her thigh, then back up, slow and possessive. My fingers hook under the seam of her panties and tug them to the side.
She gasps.
I unbuckle my belt, unfasten my pants, and free myself, thick and hard and aching to be inside her.
I don’t wait.
I thrust into her in one brutal, claiming push.
She moans—high, breathless, hungry.
And I curse under my breath because she’s fuckingsoaked.
Clenching.
Welcoming.
She enjoyed her punishment.
I grip her hips hard, grounding myself in the feel of her.
She takes every inch like she was made for me.
Because she was.
Her body shudders.
Defiant. Needy.
And I know what she’s thinking.
This doesn’t feel like punishment.
My grip tightens.
Chapter fifty-nine
Olivia
If War thinks this is punishment…he’s wrong.
The spanking?
I may ask for that again.
His cock driving into me like this?
His hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise?
I’dbegfor this kind of punishment.