Chapter 59 You’re Soaked

Chapter 59 You’re Soaked
~SCARLETT.
"Twenty," I managed, the word fracturing in my throat like shattered crystal.
My voice quivered, just like the rest of me. The last spank still echoed through my skin, each one before it, stitched into me like fire, the burn spreading down my thighs, curling behind my knees, and searing into the hollow beneath my ribs. It was everywhere now, coiled in my muscles, throbbing in my wrists where he'd held me down, and pulsing in that twisted knot of heat low in my stomach that refused to die.
I hated it.
I hated him.
But more than anything... I hated myself.
Because no matter how much it stung, no matter how humiliating it was, I didn't cry, not for him or this. But I was soaked. Soaked and pathetic.
Clenching my jaw, I squeezed my eyes shut as a fresh wave of shame washed over me. My legs quivered. My breath seized. My pride was hanging by a thread, slipping fast. And still, I could feel every inch of me hot, sore, and aching in places that had no business responding to him.
But I didn't scream as I couldn't, not with Rose, Ivy, and Blair nearby.
Can you imagine? Me, caught in the act with Liam... being spanked?
I'd never live it down. I'd rather die than let them witness me weak like that. So I bit back the sound clawing at my throat, shame curling hot in my chest. My breath stuttered, uneven and ragged. And still, despite every rational thought, I leaned into his touch. My body betrayed me, reaching for the fire even as my mind recoiled.
And of course, he noticed.
"Good girl," he praised sweetly, sliding his free hand slowly down my spine, almost tender. It stopped at my neck, hovering before pressing lightly, as if he owned me, branded me.
"Took it like a fucking champ. I knew you would."
I wanted to tear his hand off me and shove it down his throat. Craved to spit at him.
But my voice cracked when I tried, shame strangling it before it could rise.
"Now that you've proven your point," I said, jaw tight, "get off me."
He tsked, that slow, smug sound of his tongue, mocking and cruel. Sliding his fingers down my spine again, he traced the same path, and still, I shivered.
"Oh, I don't think so, doll." His voice dipped, low and dark. "You liked that a little too much, huh? I can feel it through your thong. You're soaked. Such a dirty slut."
I stilled. "No, I-" but the lie died on my tongue as the truth felt too heavy to carry, so I stuck with defense mode. "You're disgusting."
Leaning in closer, his breath whispered against my ear. "Let's find out, then."
Panic flared in my chest like wildfire. I twisted, trying to press my legs together, but his hand caught my thigh in a bruising grip.
"Open."
I couldn't obey, didn't want to, so I squeezed my legs tighter instead. A fresh sting flared across my bruised ass. I jolted, a gasp tearing from my throat before I could swallow it back.
That was all he needed. His fingers slid between my thighs, shifting my soaked thong aside, parting me like the Red Sea, and I broke, a shamed sound escaping me.
"Fucking drenched," he growled. "Just like I remember."
"No... don't-" I whimpered, biting down hard on my lip, but it was no use. My hips bucked. My mind screamed to fight, but my body... my body betrayed me even more.
Because it was true. It had always been true.
Four years. Four fucking years. Not once had I ever been able to feel anything.
Not with hookups. Not even on that stage when I danced like a maniac, grinding on that guy just to get Liam pissed.
But Liam?
He just had to look at me. Angry. Possessive. Wild. And I...
God.
Just a spanking, and I was a drenched mess. Ready. Throbbing. Desperate.
Pulling his fingers back, I heard the wet sound followed by the sick, greedy suck of him tasting me like some forbidden luxury.
"Mmm," he groaned. "Still tastes like ripe peaches. Sweet and fucking addictive."
My stomach turned as something dark and molten curled deep inside me.
"This just proves it," he said. "You still want me. Doesn't matter how much you scream or scratch or spit. Your body doesn't lie."
He let go, and my knees buckled, sending me crumpling to the cold tile, cheek pressed against the floor, skin slick with sweat. My ass throbbed with every breath, my thighs damp, and chest heaving.
And my pride? Gone. 
I stayed still, my gaze fixed on the floor, too humiliated to lift my head. But I heard his slow, satisfied footsteps making their way toward the door, and then that damn smirk in his voice. 
"I'll be seeing you soon, doll."
The door shut behind him, and I was left alone. Still. Shaking. Pulverized. Panting. Humiliated. Aching.
My fingers curled against the floor, and my lips parted around a sob I refused to let out.
I despised the way my body still pulsed for him. The ache he left behind ate at me, reminding me of everything I wanted to forget. The tears burning at the edges of my vision only made it worse.
I hated him so fucking much.
But worst of all?
I hated the girl who'd been weak enough to let it happen.
But this wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.
Next time? I wouldn't break.
Next time? I'd be the one in control.