Because He Plays Me (Because He Owns Me, Book Seven) Read Online Free Page B

ponytail and yanked on it gently. “How do you think it made me feel when you didn’t respond to me?”
    “You didn’t like it.”
    “No, I didn’t,” he said, and he sounded amused. “Turn around, Adriana.”
    I turned around and his eyes drunk me in, the sight of my body on display for him.
    “Take off your bra.”
    I reached behind me and unhooked it, letting my breasts fall out. My nipples were rock hard, like two pebbles, and I was embarrassed that just standing here with my breasts out was enough to turn me on so much.
    Callum smiled devilishly then grabbed the back of my head and kissed me, his tongue pushing into my mouth, dancing with mine, his stubble rubbing against my cheeks roughly, a contrast to the warm wetness of his mouth.
    I was breathless when he finally released me, and then he was taking off his belt, and I knew he was going to make it hurt.
    “On your knees, Adriana,” he growled.
    I fell to my knees.
    “Good girl. Now reach back and grab your ankles.”
    I did as I was told, arching my back so that I was holding my ankles, which thrust my tits up at him, and pulled my shoulders back.
    He ran his belt over my breasts, the scent of leather hitting my nose as the soft, supple material ran over my nipples.
    I moaned in anticipation and ecstasy. The tiny g-string I was wearing was completely soaked now, the material sticking to my pussy.
    Callum pulled back and struck me, the belt lashing against my breasts, harder than he’d ever hit me, harder than I’d been expecting.
    I strangled cry escaped my lips.
    “If you make another sound,” he growled. “I’ll make it worse.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    The belt bit me again, slashing against my skin, one, two, three, four times. He varied the pressure, the placement as he stood over me, tall and commanding, his blue eyes filled with need. The blows that whipped against my nipples were the worst, the skin there more sensitive.
    Red marks bloomed on my skin as he branded me and made me his.
    “Good girl,” he said from above me, his chest heaving. “Now stand up.”
    I stood up and he made me walk over to his desk, laid me down on my stomach so that my breasts were pushed against the glass.
    “Hands behind your back.”
     I put my hands behind my back, and a second later I heard the swoosh of him pulling his tie off, felt the material against my wrists as he tied them together. He tightened the knot then pulled on the tie, forcing my arms back.
    “Fuck, you look sexy like that.” His nails slid down my back. “Your body was made for this, baby.”
    “Callum,” I moaned.
    “Say it.”
    “My body was made for this.”
    “Your body is mine.”
    “My body is yours.”
    His belt was sliding over my ass now, right against my skin, the tiny g-string providing no protection.
    He whipped me with the belt.
    Then again.
    And again.
    And again.
    This time, he didn’t bother to vary the intensity, instead building up, harder and harder, until my body was jolting with every blow, and the stinging pain began to give way to something else, a deep and pleasurable ache that settled in my pussy as he punished me, as he took his frustration out on my body, as he used me for his release.
    Finally, when my ass was sore and raw, he tossed the belt to the floor, where he landed with a clang.
    My breath was coming in short gasps. He let my wrists go but held me down against the glass of the desk, the smooth surface cool against my cheek as his hand moved down over my panties and pushed them to the side.
    He slipped a finger inside my pussy and I groaned.
    “You’re so wet, Lemon,” he said, teasing. “You like being bad like that, don’t you, baby?”
    “Yes.”
    “Yes, what?” he prompted.
    “Yes, I like being a bad girl.”
    I heard his pants unzipping, and then his cock was pushing against me and I gasped as he slid into me in one long stroke.
    He grabbed the tie around my wrists and pulled it hard, using it for leverage so he could fuck me