Bought by Nicolette Hugo

Author:Nicolette Hugo
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2016-04-16T05:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

Scarlet lay on the bed listening to the bathwater pour. Tears and sweat matted her hair to her cheeks. She’d only just got back her breath. The ringing in her ears from the vicious strokes of the belt was receding. The arches of her feet still hummed.

She didn’t think he’d even hit that hard, the force at odds with the effect of the blow.

Pain. Deep and dark.

He’d been right.

In the end, she’d begged. Begged and cried, each plea for mercy met only with you’re welcome. He’d answered with thick lust as he’d fed on her destruction.

But that wasn’t the humiliating part. The humiliating part was she hadn’t stopped him.

When he’d finished, when he’d pulled her back from the edge of madness, Jerricho had reached between her legs where she was still wet.

So very wet.

He’d toyed with her stickiness.

Not to turn her on, but to make a point, to let her listen to the wet sucking sound as his fingers played and painted her in her own juices, branding her with the evidence she couldn’t deny.

She’d loved it even as she hated it.

Her brain repelled the idea before it could sink in and mean something, brutally shoving the thought away as the confusion of it hurt.

“Time to bathe.” That voice. It was under her skin.

She tilted her head and looked backward. Her world was upside down, but seeing him grounded her.

Who was the monster?

She hadn’t called red.

“Hurt.” She didn’t want to think about full sentences right now. Talking ached.

“I know, pet.” He was so gentle now.

Her fallen angel held Heaven and Hell.

“Come bathe. Let me take care of you. Wash the stickiness off you.”

Sex and sweat, she was drenched in it.

She huffed a breathless laugh. Walk?

When she moved, it was as if she was ancient, her body stiff and sore and slow. She poured herself off the bed into a puddle on the floor.

The sustained dark notes of the bastinado still vibrated along her nerves. The hot spikes of pain now dull and stinging.

The stinging was … she could no longer tell if the pain was bad.

The bruise of it felt good.

Jerricho stood patiently in the doorway of the bathroom. So near and yet the space between them had never seemed bigger. It was insurmountable to cross the floor to him.

It was significant.

“Come, pet,” he called, and it tugged at her as if his voice was her leash. “Come.”

On hands and knees, she started to crawl.

Moving was easier than thinking.

Halfway across, she finally dared to look up. He was watching her crawl. The heat in his eyes hit her as if it was a physical wave, singeing the air from her lungs as it rolled over her. Even the burn in her feet felt cool in its wake.

He looked at her like a man who owned her.

He’d shown himself, but he’d revealed her in the process.

Mersi.

She hadn’t called red.

She’d told him she would walk through fire for Killian.

Now she’d crawl for Jerricho.

He’d laid bare her truth.

She reached his feet; he’d taken off his socks and shoes.

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