"That's it, baby," he continues, his tone almost soothing, despite the filth spilling from his lips. "Take my cock. Take all of it."
Baby.
My belly flutters, my heart soaring like a fool even though I know it's a runaway utterance. A thoughtless spi...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
💕Author's Note: Hey, gorgeous! Read ahead by becoming a patron at www.EmendedHearts.com/join
💗💗💗
"You've got to be kidding me," I whisper, more to myself than him, my words drenched in disbelief, my entire body quivering as I stare at the crop now dangling between his fingers. I can't seem to avert my gaze from the long, black whip even though every inch of my body urges me to do just that, my lungs working overtime, adrenaline-spiked blood coursing through every last inch of my body, making my skin buzz as if I just drowned in a tub of alcohol and my heart damn near beats itself to a pulp inside my chest.
Overwhelmed.
In a nutshell, that's how I feel.
Scratch that.
Overwhelmed as all fuck would be a far more accurate statement.
"Not even a little bit," is Frost's immediate response to my barely audible remark, eyeing me intently, his expression completely and utterly serious.
I start to shake my head, more and more adamantly with each second, panic getting the best of me as the full weight of what he just said sinks in fully.
He wants to whip me.
He's going to whip me.
Beat me.
Seventy-one times!
Ah, fuck no!!!
"Y-you...you can't do that!" I say breathlessly, my tone anything but confident, like that of a person trying to reason with someone utterly unreasonable, knowing deep down that their effort is in vain.
He arches his brow as if I just said the dumbest thing in history.
"Sure I can," he says simply, completely unbothered by my reaction. "You said so yourself when, if my memory serves me well, you answered with a clear and concise 'Yes' when I gave you the terms and conditions of option three. Or are you going to tell me you bumped your head on the way here and suddenly have selective amnesia?"
I'd like to bump your head against something, you douchebag.
I have no verbal reply, though. No comeback to save me or buy me time. No visible way out of this insane situation.
This cannot be happening...
And yet, despite my frazzled brain's inability to process my current predicament—and much of anything else, for that matter—seconds continue to tick by and this unfathomable, mind-boggling event doesn't cease to unfold.
Frost brings the crop up, holding it so the flattened head comes to my eye-level. The object itself doesn't look that intimidating, but being wielded by this blue-eyed demon makes it look like Satan's favorite play stick.
