HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION (An Erotic Billionaire Romance) novel Chapter 36

Alaric’s POV:

I had to leave her there.

Because if I hadn’t, I would’ve fucked her.

Right there, bent over my fucking desk, Meadow was the sexiest little thing I’d ever seen. Her ass was red and raw from my belt, her body soaking and trembling. Just one more second in that room and I would’ve driven into her so deep she’d forget her own name.

I’d been worried that she would be horrified by the idea of being whipped, but she proved me wrong. Meadow was soaked. Fucking dripping. And I knew that with every stroke I landed on that perfectly round ass, she got hornier.

And then she had begged. Begged me to make her come, but I didn’t.

I went down the stairs, storming into the gym on the first floor, and then flicked the lights on. I didn’t hesitate to head straight for the punching bag hanging near the mirrored walls, neither did I bother with gloves.

Not that I ever did.

But I didn’t need to feel pain. Not today.

I just wanted to feel something that wasn’t Meadow. And this was it.

I slammed my fist into the bag, and then the other. Again and again as the bag rocked back and forth. The pressure was blunt. Fucking blunt. But I could feel it.

Wasn’t enough, though.

Meadow’s voice echoed in my head. ‘Punish me instead.‘

I clenched my jaw, driving my fist into the leather hard enough for the metal chain to groan slightly.

She was way too clever for her own good. She knew what she was doing by offering herself up just like that. She knew I’d take the bait. That I’d rather touch her, punish her than waste my time killing that motherfucker.

And fuck me, she was right. Because now all I could think about was her on that desk, pulling her panties down with shaking hands and offering her ass up to me with nothing but blind trust and that stubborn little mouth.

I let out a sharp breath and punched the bag again.

My condition rarely ever let me feel pleasure. I had to be overstimulated in order to feel anything–it’s why I had the Tether room.

But I didn’t even have to struggle or go the extra mile when I was with her. All I needed was to see her fucking smile and my cock would stir.

And now, I was hard as a fucking steel. My cock hadn’t softened once since I walked away from her. Not even a little bit. If anything, it got harder. I could still smell her, still feel her body heat beneath my palm, still taste her smooth fucking skin.

I stopped, breathing hard. My pulse thudded hard in my neck and I swore I could still hear her moaning.

Probably because right now she was upstairs, on my bed, with her legs spread wide and her fingers between her thighs, doing exactly what I told her to do.

Trying to make herself come.

Fuck.

I dragged a hand through my hair, punched the bag two more times before I stormed into the shower room, unbuttoning my pants on the way.

I never got out of control. Never.

My mother even used to joke about me being obsessive–compulsive, but it wasn’t that. At least, I didn’t think it was.

But Meadow made me lose my fucking cool.

The pressure from the shower spray did nothing to help. And there was no way I was going back to that room and sleeping beside Meadow without sating myself.

And so, bracing one arm against the tiled wall, I let the other drift lower, gripping the base of my shaft.

It twitched the second I touched it, the metal bars of my Jacaob’s ladder rubbing against my palm as a foreign heat pooled in my stomach.

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