38

Ash Elliott is going to kill me.

There’s no doubt about it. Seeing her wrecked and messy earlier at the office, on her knees dutifully obeying me will be the ultimate way to die. I’ll drop dead of a heart attack one day because the sight is so fucking perfect I can’t even handle it.

Which, naturally, makes me an utter monster. A villain.

Despicable.

I should hate myself for wanting to ruin such a pretty, funny, bright young thing. Instead, I simply count down to the moment when I can do it again.

I will do it again.

Each time I break a little piece of her, it draws her closer to me. I’ve always been someone coldhearted and untouchable, but by giving herself so freely to me, I have a duty that’s etched into the marrow of my bones to protect and care for her.

I get to wreck her so I can fix her.

It’s the vicious cycle we’ve found ourselves in, and I’m not one of those creatures who embraces change. No, I loathe it. So this perverse, infinite circle will continue on, growing momentum each time we round another curve of depravity.

“Did you enjoy your food?” I ask, nodding at her barely-touched plate.

Her face is makeup free, and the hairs around her face have begun to lose their straightness and have frizzed slightly. After I came all over her pretty face, she spent a good half-hour in the bathroom washing her face and doing whatever the fuck else. If I had to guess, psyching herself up to quit on me. But the moment she exited the bathroom, I pounced on her with a heated kiss, some much-needed words of praise, and an invitation to lunch.

“It’s good. I’m not that hungry.” She fidgets in her seat, staring out the window of the tiny bistro we’ve found ourselves in.

“You want to talk about what happened?” Her hazel eyes fly to mine. “Not really.”

“I’ll pay a thousand dollars for this conversation.”

“Not everything has a price tag,” she hisses, her spine going rigid.

“Perhaps,” I agree, “but many things do. You and I work well on this system. Don’t quit on me now.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “I get that you like to humiliate me but . . .”

“But what?”

“It makes me feel used.” She bites on her bottom lip. “Afterwards, I feel . . . unlike myself.”

I study her for a long minute. “That’s your insecurities speaking. I can assure you, when I shell out thousands of dollars for what you give to me, I don’t for a second feel used.”

“But it’s weird, Winston. It’s weird we’re doing this together.”

“I’m sorry to burst your bubble, baby, but it’s not that weird. People all have their different kinks. Unfortunately, until now, I haven’t been able to find someone who matches up to me perfectly.”

“I don’t like it,” she argues, her brows furrowing. “It makes me feel gross.”

I reach across the table and take her hand. She softens when I give it a squeeze. My thumb caresses her soft flesh as I admire her sweet, pouty lips.

“I hate to break it to you, but you enjoy it. It embarrasses you that you do, but your pussy doesn’t lie, Ash.”

She looks over her shoulder, as though making sure no one heard my crude words. It pleases me her face blushes crimson. “Fine,” she whispers. “I guess, to a certain degree, I do like it. But that’s fucked up, Win. Why do I like it? How do I live with myself?”

I let go of her hand and pull out my wallet. After setting a few bills on the table, I stand and help her to her feet. She links her arm with mine.

“You’re my pleasure partner,” I say, amusement in my tone as we exit the bistro. “It’s an agreement between us. We sort out the details. It’s something we play together. Our games. No one else’s. As long as I’m happy and you’re happy, does it really matter if it’s weird or not a kink you’re familiar with?”

She stops and looks up at me once we’re outside. The sun shines on her pretty face, highlighting a splash of freckles on her nose. “It makes me feel like you don’t like me. Like I’m just this thing you want to hurt and come all over.”

I stand facing her and cup her cheeks with my hands. “Look at me and hear me well.” She nods, her hazel eyes wide and searching mine for answers. “I want you for so much more than that.”

Her bottom lip trembles. “But you didn’t want me to sleep in your bed. After everything . . . I thought . . .” So young.

“That’s my issue, not yours,” I say gently. “I’ve been ice cold my entire life. Thawing for you is something I crave, but it won’t be easy.” I kiss her supple lips that taste like the lemonade she drank at lunch. “I’ll try to be warmer for you. This is give and take after all. You’ve been giving so graciously, so it’s only fair I give back.” I take her hand in mine and thread our fingers together. “Do you like this?”

A shy smile tugs at her lips. “It seems cheesy after what we did today.”

“My girl likes cheese with her whine.” I lean forward and nip at her bottom lip. “Now let me buy you a present.”

Her eyes roll and she shakes her head. “You don’t have to buy me anything.”

“I’m a rich old man with nothing better to spend his money on. Indulge me, Cinderelliott. Besides, you have a birthday party to attend not this weekend but the next. I can’t have you showing up and not looking the part.”

“The part? Your assistant? Your maid?”

I bark out a laugh. “We both know you’re much more than that.”

It isn’t until we begin walking toward some high-end shops that I speak again. “My birthday party will be an over-the-top affair my mother puts on. She’s obsessed with spoiling her children on their birthdays and rubbing it in everyone’s faces that they’re not a Constantine. Everyone praises her while she parades her children around like exotic pets no one is allowed to touch. It’s been this way since my first birthday, and it’s this way for every Constantine child.”

“My birthdays were certainly nothing like that,” she comments. “Sounds intense.”

“You have no idea. Everyone will talk about who wore what and who was invited. I’ve invited your family, but I want to invite you in case Manda hasn’t mentioned it.”

“She didn’t mention it,” she grumbles. “No surprise there. I bet she told the Terror Triplets.”

“Don’t worry, beautiful,” I assure her. “They won’t be a problem at the party.” I stop in front of the dress shop and give her hand a squeeze. “There will be one issue. One I’m not ready to address with my family. I’m a private man.”