NINE
NINE
LUCA
I step in front of Sophia, my tone calm but layered with something firmer. “We need to talk about that inner monologue of yours. The one that keeps feeding you garbage. It’s wrong, and it needs to stop.”
She lowers her gaze, voice barely above a breath. “What are you even talking about?”
“You’re way too hard on yourself. It’s like you’ve decided you’re never allowed to be enough—and that’s not okay.”
“I know,” she murmurs. “I’m just… sometimes everything feels like too much to carry.”
I gently tilt her chin, waiting until her eyes meet mine. “I get that. But tearing yourself apart isn’t the answer. If this is going to work—us—then it has to start with some truth. And that includes what you say to yourself. No more lies in your head. No more lies to me either.”
Her lip trembles, but she nods, hesitating. “This is new for me.”
“What is?”
“Letting go. I’ve always been the strong one. The one who holds everything together.”
I inhale deeply, choosing my next words with care. “Then we do this with intention. With choice. I want us to have a safe word. If anything feels off—anything at all—you say Red. And I stop. No explanations needed. No pressure. Clear?”
She tests the word like it’s foreign. “Red.” Then firmer: “Yeah. I understand. So... what are you planning?”
I move behind her, helping her brace herself against the edge of the table. Her fingers grip the wood, and a book tumbles to the ground, unnoticed.
“You’re still the one in control,” I say quietly. “That doesn’t change.”
She glances back at me, voice trembling with both nerves and something else. “Tell me what you’re going to do.”
I pause, hand hovering mid-air, unsure for a heartbeat. This was unfamiliar ground for both of us, and I didn’t want to mess it up.
My goal wasn’t to scare her—it was to show her something different. Something healing.
With a slow breath, I bring my hand down gently across her backside. It’s more a signal than a punishment, soft and deliberate.
“That’s what happens when you talk down to yourself,” I say calmly. “Not on my watch.”
She flinches, just a little, but doesn’t move away. “I’ve never had anyone do that to me before.”
“I figured,” I reply, keeping my tone quiet, careful. “But I need you to trust me.”
The next few moments are a delicate balance of correction and care, my hand striking with more force each time.
Each one is met with a gasp from Sophia, and I find myself admiring her strength and her trust in me. I want to pull her pants down but I resist, even as my cock strains in my pants.
I didn’t see this coming, but now that it’s unfolding, it fits like it was always meant to. My palm lands again, firmer this time, and instead of flinching, she arches into it, a soft moan spilling from her lips. “You crave this, don’t you?” I murmur. “Say it. Say it out loud.”
Her voice is barely a whisper. “I do.”
“Louder.”
“Red.”
Everything halts. I immediately ease back, taking her by the shoulders and turning her gently toward me. She leans into my chest, a quiet tremor running through her. “Something feels… off,” she murmurs.
My fingers find her hair, stroking slowly. There's a rush building in me—control, protectiveness, something sharper. She doesn’t even realize what she’s responding to, not really.
That innocence?
That raw surrender?
It’s maddening. A girl like Sophia, all instinct and purity, is more intoxicating than any bold, overpolished act.
“Feel that?” I murmur, pulling her tighter so she can’t miss how hard I am. “You can trust me. No more pretending.”
She nods slowly, her forehead resting against my chest. “Thank you… for stopping when I used the safeword. That means everything to me.”
“There may come a time when we don’t have the luxury of hesitation,” I tell her. “Briarwood is dangerous, Sophia. I need to know I can rely on you, and that means being honest with you too. This marriage isn’t just a shield. I’m not doing this just to protect you. I need you. I crave you like I’ve never craved anything.”
She looks up at me, her eyes wide and questioning—but I silence the doubt with a sharp look. The words die on her lips.
“Good girl,” I say. “You took your punishment well. Now you’ve earned a reward.”
“What kind of reward?” she whispers.