Page 130 of Prey Tell
I hear him let out a low growl behind me, hear the soft footsteps as he chases after me. And then a second later, they’re gone.
But I know better than to assume he stopped pursuing me.
“Juliet,” he calls out, the crack of the riding crop sounding from my right.
I move quicker, only to end up at a dead end. Panicking, I turn and run the other way, only for Chase’s arm to snap out from an adjacent passage, pulling me roughly into his body.
“Got you,” he murmurs. “And I’m not letting you go this time.”
Before I can act, he picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder.
“Let me go!” I scream, beating his back.
He runs a leather-clad hand up my thigh, chuckling when I gasp.Screw him.He knows how much I love those gloves, how much I love the buttery feel of the leather on my sensitive skin.
“Be a good girl and stop struggling,” he tells me, twisting us further into the maze.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, feeling all of the blood rush to my face from being upside down.
“You’ll see.”
A minute later, we entered a clearing. The middle of the maze, I realize. He sets me down, and I look around, stunned.
He must’ve been planning this all morning—or for weeks, perhaps. Before me is a large picnic blanket—more like a camping mattress due to the thickness and numerous pillows strewn over the soft fabric, but bigger. There’s a table with water, food, and black roses and another table with an assortment of toys. Above it all is a trellis of wood, ivy climbing up and over the top to give the illusion of shade, though the sun is still behind the tall hedges. Before I can look at everything closer, Chase comes up behind me and runs the riding crop across my stomach.
“On the floor, Mrs. Ravage,” he growls into my ear before walking me to the blanket and shoving me onto my hands and knees. Before I can protest, he crouches beside me and pulls my robe off completely, muttering praise as his fingers run along my spine before he runs the crop over my ass. “I can’t fucking wait to see how pink I can make this ass,” he murmurs. “Count for me, love,” he says gently.
I fist the blanket underneath me in preparation. “How many?” I ask, breathless.
“Let’s do four for now. One for every year of marriage,” he adds, and my skin pebbles at the reverence in his voice. At the memory of him proposing after only dating for three months. At the way he couldn’t wait to plan a proper wedding—and how he convinced me to marry him that night.
It was, and still is, the craziest thing we’d ever done.
A month later, we threw a lavish party at Ravage Castle, and it was everything I ever could’ve hoped for.
“My prey,” he says softly. “Are you going to show me how sorry you are for running away from your predator?” he asks.
And because I apparently have a death wish—and I know how much we both enjoy my snark—I scoff and look over my shoulder.
“I’m never sorry, Mr. Ravage.”
His pupils darken, and his jaw clicks as he fists the crop in his hand. Kneeling before me like this on one knee, I can see the outline of his thick cock running up his leg, and I lick my lips when he tilts his head, clearly annoyed at my utter defiance.
“You’ll pay for that mouth, Juliet,” he growls. “I’m doubling it.”
Please do.
Holding me down with one hand, he raises the hand with the crop and brings it down on my bare ass. I scream.Fuck, it hurts so much more than his hand, even more than the paddle, whichreallyfucking hurts and leaves me bruised for days.
“One,” I cry out, keeping my voice even. I can’t—won’t—break on the first hit. Besides, he knows I’ll use the safe word if I need to. Lord knows I’ve used it before.
I shift my hips, the slippery wetness between my thighs dripping onto the blanket underneath me.
Chase hits me with the crop again—twice—in quick succession. “Two! Three!” I gasp, blinking back the tears that are leaking from my eyes. My core pulses with arousal.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, smoothing over where the crop is surely causing me to bleed. I can’t think of why or how it would hurt so much otherwise. “So pink already. Such a beautiful, blooming color, love.”
I hardly have time to take in his almost sweet words before he swings the riding crop down again, slightly gentler this time.
