Once he realizes I’m neither swinging nor going anywhere, he drags bloodshot eyes to mine.
“You have two choices.” I enunciate each word, softly, deliberately. “One. Tell no one what happened. Not a word about what you’ve been doing with Miss Westbrook. Let those bruises heal without revealing them to anyone, and that’ll be your only punishment for paying a girl for sex.”
His eyes narrow into a scathing glare.
I match his glare with one that makes him wither. “Two. Limp around like a fucking *. Tell the dean what you did to earn those injuries, and say goodbye to Leopold. Doesn’t matter how powerful my connections, there isn’t a conservatory in the world that will accept an applicant facing charges for buying sexual services.”
His eyes bulge. “I’m only seventeen!”
“That’s old enough to be charged as an adult and young enough to be the belle of the ball in state prison.”
“Oh God, oh God, this can’t be happening.” He wraps an arm around his stomach and gives me a pleading look. “You won’t tell my mom?”
I should’ve broken him. Should’ve left him in a bloody pile for the vultures to feed on. “This is between you and me. Keep your mouth shut, stay the fuck away from Miss Westbrook…and when I say stay away, I mean don’t think about her. Don’t talk to or look at her. Erase her from your fucking mind. Do that, and the dean won’t hear of your crime.”
“Okay.” He grips the steering wheel, nodding, swallowing. “I can do that.”
I’m not convinced. If he’s half as addicted to Ivory as I am, he won’t be able to stay away. But for now, scaring the shit out of him is the best option I have.
I slam the door and stalk toward the GTO.
Did she enjoy fucking him? Will she hate me for breaking them up?
No way. She compared him to a bloody tampon.
But what about other boys? Other customers?
Deep in my gut, I know she didn’t want to be here. She didn’t even understand the concept of sexual desire until she met me. But finding her with someone else is a crushing hit to my pride. Christ, I can’t even bring myself to look at another woman, yet here she is…with him.
Jealous rage claws its way through my chest, stealing my air and speeding up my gait.
She should’ve come to me, confided in me, asked me to help her. Instead, she chose this. Him.
Flashbacks of the back seat crash through my mind, tormenting me with images of her spread legs, his bare ass, the condom.
My legs tense to turn around, my fists tingling to pulverize his throat until he stops breathing. But I keep walking, focused on her, on what I intend to do.
Of all my passions, disciplining a woman is the most exhilarating. The most arousing. The reason I work and fuck and breathe. I can do this without destroying her. If I keep my temper in check, I’ll be able to open something inside her she has no idea exists. Pain and pleasure. Fear and arousal. Give and take. Once she understands how these things work together, it will change her, strengthen her, and tie her to me irrevocably.
The rational part of my brain demands I take her home, quit my job, and end this dangerous infatuation. But I’ve reached the point of no return.
It’s no longer a matter of if or when.
Tonight, she’ll bend for my punishment, tremble for my touch, and I’ll risk it all to show her exactly what she means to me.
The tension in the GTO is as stifling and disorienting as my anger. I welcome Ivory’s silence, but the secrecy of her thoughts winds me tighter and tighter with each passing street.
When I speed past the turn off for Treme, she twists in the seat and points.
“My house is…” Her gaze flies to mine. “You’re not taking me home?”
Pulling up to a stop light, I turn toward her. “Will anyone notice if you don’t return home tonight? Your mother? Brother?”
I thought her eyes were dark before, but now they’re the color of nightmares. Even in the passing headlights, they coax me in and chill me to the bone.
She looks at her lap, shakes her head, her voice a soft shivering pianissimo. “What are you going to do to me?”
She’s thinking the worst. I hear it in the serrated gusts of her breaths, and it infuriates me. But I can’t blame her. She watched me lose my shit with Prescott, and as sure as I can feel her fear, she can sense my vibrating need for atonement.
I reach over and grip the hand in her lap. “Listen very carefully, Ivory.” I squeeze her trembling fingers. “I would never hit you in anger. When I welt your ass, you’ll love it as much as you hate it. Tell me you understand.”
Her breath catches, and a sob hangs on the edge of her voice. “You won’t hurt me in anger.” She touches the broken skin on my knuckles. “How did you find me?”
“Sebastian Roth was all too willing to give up his friend’s favorite parking spot.” A torrent of animosity invades my throat, and I’m unable to stop it. “You’re fucking him and Prescott? How many others?”