Pure Vengeance

Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Claire

This is insanity.

He’s going to whip me?

My heart slams against my ribs painfully.

“If I have to rip off the dress, you’ll walk through this house naked until I get bored of seeing your tits and ass.”

I believe him. My utter humiliation would give him such pleasure.

Slowly, I gather up all the material of the skirt. I’m suddenly glad I decided not to wear the tulling that goes beneath it to make it look more vintage.

“You’ll let me go after?” I try to twist a little more so I can see him. My cheek is pressed against the wall, and he’s too far in my periphery to make him out.

“I didn’t say that.” Metal jangling gets my attention, and I don’t hear what he says next.

Leather ripping through the loops of his pants overshadows whatever he’s trying to say.

My heartbeat bangs so hard in my chest, I feel like I’m going to pass out.

“Take a breath, Claire.” Finally, his voice cracks through the deafening panic. “Slow, that’s it, that’s a good girl.” His tone softens. “See. There’s air, you just need to go slow.”

I close my eyes, pushing more tears down over my cheeks.

He moves back a little, still not letting go of my hair, but more air comes in.

“You have such a pretty ass,” he says once I’ve gotten the panic under control. “I almost feel bad for what I’m about to do to it.”

The words kick my anxiety back into a full gallop, but a white-hot pain slashing across my ass cuts it off before it can overtake me.

I scream as the second lash hits.

Another and another crisscross my ass no matter how I wiggle or how hard I fight him; each one lands perfectly. He’s a master at this, and he’s not wasting any time with lectures.

Over and over again, he whips his belt across my ass, then moves down to my thighs.

I scream.

Beg.

Holler.

My throat burns from it, but no more than my ass.

“Please!” I bellow. “Please stop!”

“If I hadn’t turned, you might have actually gotten something important with that shot,” he says, laying into me again and again.

I won’t apologize.

If that’s what he wants me to say, I won’t do it.

I’m not sorry.

I only regret I missed.

“I can’t. I can’t take anymore. Please!” I’m not above begging though.

“Sure, you can.” He softens the lashes but continues.

Sobs break free of my chest. My face is covered in tears and saliva from all my screaming.

Finally, he stops.

“Stay there. Do not move one fucking muscle,” he orders, letting me go. The belt jangles again and I realize he’s putting it back on. I need to wipe my face, but to do that would mean moving.

And I’m not giving him another reason to take that belt off again.

I survived.

But so did he.

Featherlike touches drag across my ass. I jump at the tenderness.

“No broken skin.” He pats my ass, like he’s proud of me for taking the whipping without getting injured.

Lightly, he grabs my arm and turns me to face him. I raise my hands to wipe my cheeks, but he brushes them away.

Instead, he pulls a handkerchief from his back pocket and cleans me up.

“If you ever do anything so reckless and hurt yourself again, it will be worse than this, do you understand?” His question comes as he’s wiping the last bit of mascara from beneath my right eye.

“What?” I blink, unsure of what he’s talking about.

“Your knuckles, your feet. Your cheek. Your injuries were avoidable, if you hadn’t been so reckless with your safety.”

“Are you serious?” I can’t help the question.

He lines up our gazes.

“Always.”

“You… you whipped me because of my injuries?”

“I punished you because you put yourself in a lot of fucking danger tonight for nothing.”

“Oh.” My brain can’t process this. Not with the burning hot throbbing coming from my ass.

“I don’t spank people who try to kill me.”

I sniffle. “You said you weren’t going to kill me,” I remind him.

“I’m not.” He drags his knuckles over my dry cheek. “But I’m not letting you go either.”

“Why? What does that mean?”

“It means, you’re mine now, Claire. All mine. Until I say otherwise.” He frowns, like he’s not happy with his own decision.

“I…no.” I start to shake my head, but he’s finished with our conversation. He walks to the door and waves someone inside.

A man, a little shorter than him, but with a similar build, steps into the room.

“Put her in Alexia’s old room. Have some clothes brought up to her and get the doctor to look at her scrapes.” He gives his orders with a quick gesture in my general direction.

“You got it, boss.”

Then he’s gone.

No other look or comment. Just gone.

“Oh!” His head pops back into the room, aiming an arrogant grin at me. “Don’t even think about touching yourself, Claire. That part of you is mine too.”

I gasp. He can’t possibly know.

He can’t.

He winks then disappears again.

I squeeze my thighs together, trying to make the sick arousal he’s built up in me go away.

That part is his too.

Over his dead body.