Fakemates

Chapter Fifteen

Evelyn

"Bedroom. Now." Dean commanded once we stepped foot inside my apartment. 

I tried to turn around and face him, but his hand was on my back as he gave me a nudge forward. I fast-walked to my bedroom, and once I got in, his hand was in my hair.

I winced from the sudden pull as he used my hair to guide me around and pin me against the wall. I hate the feeling of someone pulling my hair, but it was a different type of sensation when Dean did it.

It was rough, but I secretly enjoyed it.

"Dean," I gasped, and I could even hear the tremble in my voice.

"Don't speak unless I give you permission to."

Oh, god.

"Hands up on the wall. Spread your legs."

I shakily placed my hands on the wall and widened my stance. I felt his hands go to the front of my shorts, and I felt him unbutton them.

He smacked my thigh, and I bit my lip to conceal my sounds. I took it as he wanted me to close my legs, so I did. He pulled them down and tossed them to the side.

"A fucking thong." He tutted. "You little slut."

The word slut was an ugly, degrading word ,and I should have spun around and smacked his mouth for how he was speaking to me.

The thing is...I didn't feel degraded or humiliated. Something as obscene as this shouldn't have gotten me hot, yet it did. It made me feel warm and tingly, and my insides tightened with keenness.

My entire body felt alive and sensitive, ready for whatever onslaught he would release onto me. I was willing.

So fucking willing.

His hand spanned my ass, while the other one crawled up my body and found purchase around my throat.

"Were you a little slut for those college boys, Evelyn?"

"No."

His hand came down, and he smacked my ass, almost like a warning. I didn't know what he was warning me against, and he used my confusion to smack me two more times.

My ass was stinging, but it wasn't painful. The pleasure of his hands being on my body, of him punishing me, all of it outweighed the pain.

"No, what?" He rasped. 

"No, Sir." I corrected, figuring out what kind of game he was playing.

The hand around my throat wasn't choking me. No it was there as a reminder of who I belonged to.

To him. Only to him.

"Did you let them touch you?"

I didn't let them touch me, but I was lost in the moment with Dean pressed against me, his hand on my ass and throat, and I wanted him to hit me again.

He did, this time, harder, and I whimpered. I stayed quiet longer, this time on purpose, and I was rewarded with his hand coming down on me a few more times just as hard.

"No, Sir," I replied.

I heard him hum in response. His hand on my ass moved, so he was inching up my tank top. He cupped a bare breast, and I moaned as I arched my back, wanting to feel more of him.

I yelped when I felt him pull the pert nipple between his fingers.

"Where's your fucking bra, Evelyn? You went out there with no bra like a desperate fucking slut, didn't you?"