She shook her head frantically and pressed her lips together. Thankfully, she didn’t say another word.
Spinning on his heel, Liam whirled back through the condo and into the bedroom. Sure enough, in the back of the closet, he found a big, dark duffel bag. He hoisted it onto his shoulder. Heavier than fuck. Liam smiled for the first time since arriving here. Now he could have some fun. He’d bet the good doctor kept an arsenal of interesting shit.
Shutting the bedroom door behind him, he returned to the little living room. Gwyneth had splayed herself out on the back of the sofa, long legs spread wide. “I know I’m not supposed to talk, but I wanted to show you that I waxed just for you.”
He couldn’t look. “Quiet! I’ve told you to hold your tongue. We were going to start with pleasure, but now…” He shook his head in mock regret. “Well, it’s punishment for you.”
She gasped. “Will it hurt?”
“It will now.”
Liam was almost thankful for the months he’d spent as a sadist after his divorce. At the time, he’d thought that inflicting pain on subs who craved the hurt might release the resentment he felt toward Gwyneth for her betrayal. But it hadn’t, and he realized he wasn’t the kind of man who simply enjoyed doling out torture. For his ex-wife, he’d make an exception. Not that he’d hurt her physically in any lasting way. But fuck with her mind? He couldn’t wait.
“Turn around. Bend over the sofa.” When she hesitated, he sent her a warning glare. “You’re trying my patience.”
Finally, she turned, still looking at him over her shoulder, as if she didn’t quite trust his mood…or him.
“Head down.” Once she’d complied, he sidled closer and growled in her ear. “Hands at the small of your back.”
She shivered and arched, pointing her ass in the air. “As soon as I show you this.”
Gwyneth grabbed her cheeks and eased them apart. Idly, he realized she’d even waxed and bleached there. He leaned over her back so he didn’t have to see that again.
“I didn’t ask you to show me anything.” When she didn’t respond, he curled his fingers into her hair and tugged, knowing it stung her scalp just a bit. “Did I?”
“Oh, Liam… You have changed. Y-you’re so thrilling.”
“Excellent. Just think, Gwyneth. Every day will be like this for us if I come back to you. Would you like that?”
She nodded, her skin flushing.
“I’m sure you would. You’ll surrender your will to me and beg me to use you like the dirty slut you are.”
Gwyneth froze. She’d never heard him talk like this. Probably never even imagined he could.
Liam sent her a cold smile. “Won’t you?”
She peeked back at him. “I…um, yes.”
“Head down,” he warned again. Reluctantly, she turned away and focused on the couch cushions again. “Say it. Beg me to make you a dirty slut.”
She struggled for breath now. “Liam… Why are you using that terrible slur?”
Because that’s what you called Raine. “It’s a term of endearment to a Dom. Say it or give me your safe word.”
He heard her swallow. Her entire body tensed. She fought herself. Balk and risk losing him or say something that went absolutely against her grain? On the one hand, if she bailed now, he could end this farce, have a hot meal and a shower, then hold Raine in his arms. On the other hand…jerking Gwyneth around was more than a wee bit of fun.
“Make me your dirty slut, Liam,” she breathed out, sounding as excited as someone holding toxic waste.
“Who am I?” He tugged a bit harder on her hair.
“Master.”
Liam grimaced, then reached into Beck’s bag of tricks and rummaged around. Not surprisingly, he found exactly what he needed.
“Yes. I’m the Master. You’re the slut. See?” He shoved the impression paddle he clutched in Gwyneth’s face. “What will your skin say when I smack your ass with this?”
She stared at the leather implement, then blinked, looking horrified. “S-slut.”
“Isn’t that perfect?” He hissed in her ear. “While I punish you, I’ll mark you. Everyone who sees this ass for the next few days will know who and what you are.”
Bracing himself on the small of her back, he raised his arm and waited. Her body tensed. She squeezed her cheeks together. Gwyneth wasn’t submissive. Surely, she would safeword now so he could walk away from her “romantic” overtures. In twenty-four hours, when the swab in his pocket proved Kyle wasn’t his son, he’d never have to see her again.
Nearly ten seconds passed. She said nothing. He stared at her taut back as she held her breath. Did she really not intend to balk?
So be it…
He flung his arm down, snapping his wrist. The paddle met her flesh with a resounding smack. Gwyneth screamed and buried her face in the sofa cushion, muffling the god-awful sound. The word slut blossomed in a red welt across her stark white flesh. Liam smiled in satisfaction.