Paxton ignored the question and walked right in the shower. I came with him by my hair. He pulled me, soaking wet, out of the shower and to the sink.
Paxton placed both my hands flat on the counter and spoke hateful words. “I’m done. I’m so fucking done with this shit, Gabriella. What the fuck do you want? Do you need it branded on your ass?”
I heard the loud crack to my ass before I felt it. It stung way worse than the last time. I was wet, water dripping from me to the floor. A painful grunt escaped my lips, but I didn’t answer. I didn’t talk. Not one word.
“Aahh,” I called out with the next crack, feeling every inch of his hand contacting my ass. It hurt, but it wasn’t like the pain from my accident. The burning on my ass cheeks traveled straight to my sex. Every time Paxton slapped my ass, my throbbing nub grew more and more impatient, swelling with excitement.
With a fistful of hair, Paxton delivered five ghastly slaps to my ass. I called out after every one. I just wasn’t sure if it was from pain or pleasure. More than likely, both.
Paxton jerked me to the floor after the fifth blow. That moan was from the pain. It shot clear up the back of my leg, but it was brief. It subsided as soon as I repositioned it a little. Still holding my hair, Paxton released his erection and shoved it into my mouth, straight to the back of my throat.
“I’m done playing with you, Gabriella. Enough is enough. No more of this nonsense. Okay?” Paxton questioned in a quiet, loving tone while his fingers stroked my face and his dick moved in and out of my mouth.
I hummed on his shaft, tasting saltwater from his fun in the ocean. I purred again when his hand reached to my nipple and he twisted, pulling it into a hard bead. He moaned a few more times while he deep-throated my mouth and played with my wet nipples. My lips made a popping sound when he pulled all the way out and dropped to one knee.
He didn’t have to do much coaxing for my hand to latch on and take over for my mouth. With one hand on the small of my back, he fingered me, sliding his hand from my clit, to the pucker in my ass. My neck arched to a painful position when he yanked my hair back. We kissed while he fingered me. A finger in my ass, one inside me, and a thumb dancing around my clit. My hand pumped hard, jacking him off like never before.
“Fuck, Paxton. Please let me come,” I begged through quick, sporadic breaths. His hand completely stopped. Dammit. It was that F word. The thumb stopped circling my ache, his finger slid out of me, and the third one stayed put. Right in my ass. He pushed in a couple times, letting the feeling of an impending orgasm linger. Of course it didn’t linger long. Paxton slid his finger from my ass and stood again.
My mouth opened for his cock, but he didn’t give it to me. He gave me his balls and told me to suck them. I sucked while he pumped his dick and moaned.
“You’re nothing without me. I gave you this. I gave you all of this, and I can take it all away. Including the girls. You’re nothing. Welfare scum. That’s it, my pretty girl. That’s what you are. You wanted to be mine, remember, sweetie?”
I hummed on his balls that time. I didn’t care at the moment. I would be his slut. If he would let me get off, I would agree to be his slut for the rest of my life. No questions asked. I was that desperate.
Paxton took his balls from my mouth and cocked his leg. He lifted his sack out of my way and told me to lick him. I looked up to him, eyes smoldering with adolescent rebellion, and back to his pucker. I swallowed and prepared myself. I don’t know why. It wasn’t gross at all. The only thing I tasted was saltwater. I’m not sure whether Paxton enjoyed my tongue lashing or not. He didn’t keep me there long. I had a feeling it was part of his game. He used it to humiliate me, degrade me, and put me in my place. Only it didn’t really do that. I didn’t feel reduced at all. I felt liberated, and I was more turned on than ever.
Paxton lasted about four strokes after he moved back to my mouth. I’m sure he would have made more of a show out of it had Ophelia not called from the door.
“Daddy, we’re done with our snacks now. Can we go to the Collins’ house now?”
“I’m coming, baby,” Paxton called back. He was coming. Right down the back of my throat. He jerked himself a couple more times, making sure I got every last drop. At least he was kind enough to help me to my feet. He put himself away, back to his swimming trunks, and ordered me what I was to do next.
“Get ready. I’ll lay your clothes on your bed.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“I know,” he admitted with a kiss to my nose. “That’s why you’re going.” One more crack to my ass and he was gone. I thought about taking care of the ache myself, but I didn’t. I obeyed, feeling the pulsating in my clit when I turned my branded ass toward the mirror. Paxton’s hand prints blanketed my butt cheeks. I could see where every slap had been placed. Every welt.
Chapter Ten
I tried to wear the maxi dress Paxton laid out for me. I couldn’t do it. The thing was hideous. Did I buy that? God, I hoped not. I was sure I didn’t wear animal print. Especially zebra print. No way. To keep from fighting about it, I took a dab of lavender lotion and stained it. He wouldn’t want me wearing a dress with stains. Not Mrs. Pierce.
I chose an all-black one instead. The stitching was done in white, the straps were white, the outline of my breasts were in white, and the slit going up my right legs was trimmed in white. Same thing, different dress. Maybe a little more revealing, but Paxton liked that. I applied makeup, a hairpin to the top of my head, and red lipstick.
The dress was a little long for plain sandals or flip-flops, but I didn’t change. I chose other shoes. Lord knew I had a ton of them. White wedges with open toes. Damn. I should have painted my toes again.
“What are you doing? We’ve got to, um, we need to get going. That’s not what I laid out for you,” Paxton said, feet stopping dead when he saw me. Score. He thought I was hot. It was written all over his face.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I spilled lotion on it.”
“Oh. Well, you can’t wear the shoes. Are you trying to break a leg? Put your boot on.”
“I can’t. This dress is too long for that.”
“You’re not wearing those. Put the boot on.”
I didn’t argue. My new plan was to be on my best behavior and hope like hell Paxton wanted to play when we got home. Maybe if I was a good little slut, he’d let me play, too. Jesus. What the hell am I saying? I was delirious. Someone should call that Mirage doctor.
“Okay, but I would like to have panties. Just for you, I didn’t get them out of the drawer. I figured you would complain.”
“You don’t have panties because I have something else for you. Thanks for reminding me. I almost forgot.”
“Oh, man. Now what?”
That one got a snap and glare. This was not going to be easy. Was I always this defiant, or did it come after the accident? Or was it only with him? So many questions and zero answers.
I watched while he made his way to the cabinet, hand in his pocket in search of the key. My throat dropped to my stomach, anticipating what he had planned for me. If he thought for one second I would wear the stupid chastity belt, he would get a fight. No way.
With high caution, I watched him stroll toward me holding black lace. He squatted on the floor and I raised my foot. Left one first. That didn’t look so bad. Black thong. But why was it locked up?
“This is going to keep you in line tonight. Don’t be telling the neighbors how high their grass is. Answer when you’re spoken to, and that’s it. You don’t need to sit and carry on a conversation with the neighbors. Got it?”
“Um, yeah. Okay,” I said, not really sure what it was he wanted to get across to me. How was a pair of panties going to keep me in my place? I didn’t ask and he didn’t explain it. We had to go.
Paxton rushed me again while we were in the kitchen, packing up our dishes. He carried the blue shopping bag, and I held the hands of the two prettiest little girls in Florida, both wearing their little sundress
es.
They talked busily, explaining their fieldtrip to the beach. Their dad fell and got run over by a wave, they petted a dog named Blue, picked up trash and put it in the can, and they built sandcastles, only they did it too close to the water and the tide took them away. I giggled with them, hanging on to every single word they said.
“What’s in here,” Paxton asked after shifting the weight of my bag for the third time.
“Something for the kids, something for the adults, and something for everyone.”
“Thought you didn’t cook.”
I smiled at him, and I think he might have smiled back. He covered it pretty quick. “Apparently, I don’t do a lot of things that I do.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, Mommy,” Rowan assured me.
I brushed her blonde hair behind her back and smiled down at her. “Daddy is the only one who has those sense.”
“I’m going to get a sparkler at dark time. Collin told me I can have one,” Ophelia said while skipping up ahead to pick up a rock. She studied it with the strangest look and then tossed it to the grass.
As soon as we were close enough to the house, both girls took off in a sprint, excited for the fun.
“I prefer you don’t speak.”
“Yes, Paxton. We’ve established that.”
“I’m being serious, Gabriella.”
“Fine.”
“That a girl. I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking.”
I wasn’t coming around to anything. I was being manipulative, hoping to feel something later on. I would take the “that a girl” and roll with it. Whatever worked. I was stuck until one of two things happened. Either I figured out how to get away from him, or I remembered my freaking name.
So frustrating.
I don’t know what the rush was for. We were the first ones there. Shayla took my bag and hummed out a yum, taking in the scent of pasta.
“What is this, Gabriella? Something new?” she asked with a smile and a peculiar stare.
I got excited telling her about it. I sort of liked being in the kitchen. Who would have thought? “The pitcher has rum-runner in it. It’s delicious. The red bowl is for the kids. It’s dirt pudding. I even put the gummy worms in it. The other one is just a pasta in a white sauce.”
“Oh, man, I was hoping you were bringing those little barbequed wieners you make,” Tricia said from behind. I turned to see her and Brant joining us on the breezeway. Collin ran for the pool, and cannoned-balled, water splashing on all of us.
“Collin, you little bastard. I’m going to beat your ass,” Shayla yelled.
I laughed at her and shrugged at Tricia. “I don’t remember how.”
“And some people don’t really like meat,” Lane said. His arms were crossed and he leaned against the counter behind Candace’s back, smirk directed right at me. What the hell, dude?
Candace looked back to her husband with a noticeable grimace. “You eat meat three times a day.”
“Yeah, I know I do. I’m just saying some people.”
“You’re not drinking anymore,” she said, still wearing the frown. My eyes met Lane’s and I unintentionally scowled. Was he talking about me?
“Oh, my God. This is so good, Gabriella. What’s in it? Mmm, Shay, Tricia, you gotta try this,” Candace said while licking the icy alcohol from her lips.
I used my fingers to calculate the ingredients as I thought them out. “Captain Morgan. The spiced kind. Blackberry liqueur, crème de bananas, fresh squeezed orange juice, and—oh, crushed ice. That’s it.”
The gathering moved away from the pool and under the roof when Collin splashed everyone again.
“You don’t even drink,” Candace said.
I looked up, puzzled. “I don’t?”
“You hate alcohol,” Paxton reminded me with a squeeze to my hand.
“No, she likes it,” I heard, barely above a whisper. Lane’s hand went to the small of my back as he passed me, needing to get closer to his grill.
“You help me get this off?” Rowan asked with her head stuck in her dress. I gave her bare belly a noisy raspberry first and then lifted it over her head. She giggled and ran off to join the other kids in the pool.
From all the strange stares I seemed to be getting from my friends, my neighbors—or whatever the hell they were—seemed to be telling me something. I was a freak. Why did I get a look every time I said or did something? Or was it the raspberry?
“I like this alcohol,” I admitted. I poured myself a drink in one of the cute whisky glasses and sipped it. Again, all eyes on me. Paxton discreetly nodded to the chair next to him and I sat. With my drink.
“You okay?” He set a hand on my knee and raised his eyebrows.
I leaned in closer and whispered back, “I’m going to need a cooler full of ice for this day.”
His frown deepened with confusion. “Excuse me?”
“Forget it.”
“Good idea. No more after that.”
“No more what?”
“Drinks.”
I snorted. “Hmph, okay.”
“Gabriella,” he said in a quiet yet stern tone. It was a warning and I knew it. Gah. Why couldn’t I just be fake like everyone else?
The night wasn’t so bad. Maybe because I didn’t stop with one. It wasn’t my fault, though. Lane kept pouring them for me. If Paxton really cared, he should have said something to him. He didn’t. Not my fault.
It wasn’t like I got drunk. I was far from drunk. Especially after we ate. I barely felt anything. If Paxton was mad, he didn’t show it. He talked in a circle with the guys like any other guy would do. I got a couple of looks, but nothing major. All and all, I thought the night was a nice change. Even Paxton seemed to enjoy himself. If anyone was a little intoxicated, it was him.
I liked Tricia, I liked Shayla, but I loved Candace. I don’t know why. I felt like she understood me more than the other two. I didn’t feel like a freak show with her. It was as if she understood me. She didn’t remind me of the things I didn’t like before the accident. If Shayla told me one more time how she’d never seen my boobs this much before, I might have punched her. It was a little cleavage. That’s it. She had more tits hanging out than anyone there. Including Ophelia who was running around without a top.
The four of us sat in a circle, drinking the second batch of rum-runners. I had to admit, mine were better than Candace’s. She admitted it, too. I tried to tell her frozen orange juice wouldn’t be the same. It was okay, though.
The guys were playing badminton with the kids. Two of them couldn’t take their eyes off me. One of which I didn’t understand why. I shifted my gaze away from Lane every time I saw him staring. Maybe I didn’t want to remember that one.
Shayla took Paxton’s place when he ran to the bathroom. She batted the birdie straight to the roof. During Paxton’s absence, I took the time to pour myself another drink. Only I didn’t pull any wool over his head.
Paxton moved behind me and kissed my neck. Geesh. He was a fast pisser.
“Need some help, Mrs. Pierce?” Paxton asked while his hand slithered around my waist.
My eyes shifted to him and then down his body, probably a more haughty expression than anything. “Sure, there’s a birdie on the roof.”
He glowered at me, but his single-word response held a tinge of bewilderment. “What?”
“You should go get it.”
Paxton’s gaze lifted to the plastic birdie Rowan had hit on the roof. He smirked. “That’s funny. Forgetting who you are has made you a comedian. Keep it up. I like it.”
“I’m scared.” I said with a sarcastic tone. My eyes darted to Rowan, who yelled for me to watch her do a cannonball like Collin. And then I caught Lane glaring at me. What the hell is this guy’s deal?
Paxton placed his phone in front of us, searching for an app. I sipped my drink and then panicked.
Smart panties!
“No, Paxton. Don’t you dare,” I warned. My hand covered his screen,
but not fast enough. It felt like it went in a circle. All the way around my suddenly alive nub. The vibration was powerful. Extremely powerful. I stiffened like a board, using the outside bar as support.
“You doing okay?” Paxton whispered in my ear. I could feel the sneer on his lips.
“Turn it off, Paxton,” I ordered through gritted teeth.
“No way. This is too much fun.”
“Ahh,” I yelled when he upped the power. And yes. All eyes were on me.
“I hate being tickled,” I said like an idiot. They laughed and turned back to the game. Except Lane. He still stared at me. Why? Why did this guy keep looking at me?
“Go to the bathroom.”
I scurried away with one thing in mind. The distance. If it was like my Bluetooth, I only had to get six feet away from it. I have a Bluetooth? Hmm. Sure enough, I was right. The app broke contact as soon as I rounded the corner.
Within the minute, Paxton closed the bathroom door behind me. He slung me backward, crashing me against the wall. That same thing happened—this wasn’t Paxton being a douche. This was something else. Something heated, laced with passion. Our lips met and our bodies molded into one. My fingers combed through the hair on the back of his neck and I lifted my good leg and wrapped it around his waist.
He backed off for a split second, obviously taken off guard, but the lust overruled his ego and we kissed again, passionately. His fingers trailed up my leg, pushing my dress higher. I wedged my hand between us and went straight for the tie on his swimming trunks.
“Gabriella, stop,” he ordered, but his voice sounded weak, conquered. Paxton had screwed up. He’d revealed his weakness. And just like an animal, I sensed it.
My tongue danced with his while my hand shoved his away. I tilted my head, offering my neck when I couldn’t get the stupid string untied.
“We’re not doing this here,” he assured me with hot words fanning my shoulder.
Yes!
The string let loose and I had him in my hand. Stroking him in a tight fist was all I needed. He slid the elastic to my stupid smart panties aside. His fingers glided through my wet folds—and I didn’t even realize I was wet until he touched me there. I moaned and lifted myself around his waist. He either had to hold me, or drop me. He held me.