Page 68 of Pas de Trois
Renata’s fingers trail from the base of my neck, slowly down my spine. She intentionally strays from the path to trace over the line of flames—the way they flare against her touch tells me I’ll have welts before this is over.
“Wouldn’t it feel better to sink inside me?” she whispers.
I drop my head and my jaw ticks as I hold back my anger. “I can’t think of anything that would feel worse.”
“Fuck you!” she screams and strikes me again.
I grunt as I sway, but there’s no time for me to take a breath, to calm myself, to prepare for the next lashing. I stripped her façade of control with my insult and I know I’m fucked now. She strikes, again and again, and fucking again.
She hits me with fury until my skin is ablaze.
She hits me until I shout for her to stop.
She hits me until my body slumps and the ropes hold my weight through my arms, until my head droops in surrender, and my heart is pounding.
She’s given me fifty lashes, just as I asked for, and I already know this pain will last for days. I feel blood trickling down my back, and I can only imagine the scars this will leave on my body.
But those scars would be nothing compared to the emotional scars that would mar my heart if I had sex with anyone other than my girl.
I’m left to hang there in my physical pain—with my back bleeding and burning—as Renata and Luca move onto the bed. I close my eyes with my head hung as Luca removes her clothes and fucks her in front of me.
I hate it more than the pain when they do this. I’m ashamed of it, but I’m a fucking human man, and there’s a porn movie playing out in front of me. It makes me hard—though I don’t want it to—and being hard makes me think about my blue-eyed girl.
I’d prefer to keep her out of my mind when I’m here with Renata and her little fuck boy, but sex and Anya are permanently linked inside my mind. Especially, since we’ve been seeing each other in secret and making love in all the intense and passionate ways we were meant to. I can’t keep her out of my mind, but I can protect the sanctity of our connection.
I don’t let myself think about fucking Anya, touching her, making love to her. I let myself imagine her caring for me, nursing these burning wounds, showing me how much she loves me. It’s what she’s done with all the wounds Renata has given me over the past several weeks. Anya’s love for me is stronger than Renata’s hate.
I smile to myself.
Renata can hurt me, do whatever the fuck she wants to do to me, but she’ll never break me down. I’ll meet with Anya again in that secret room in two nights and she’ll build me back up again.
Renata can’t fucking win.
