Page 43 of Shatter

I smack her hip playfully. "Alright, I think you've earned your punishment."

Her eyes shine with excitement as she squirms. I'm already sporting a semi from having her straddle me and squirm in my arms. I've barely released her before she slides off of my lap, bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly.

"Go to my room, get naked. I want you on your hands and knees on my bed."

Chapter twenty-two

Melody

Ilove his punishments.

Even as stern and angry as he looks right now, I don’t miss the way the corner of his mouth twitches as if he’s fighting a grin of his own. I scramble to do as I'm told. It might be the only time I don't want to brat against him. Because I know what pleasure he can wring from my body, and I love how he pushes me to shatter, and then puts all of my pieces back together again.

I pull my shirt over my head, dropping it in the hallways, leaving a trail of clothing behind me. He's not far behind me.

He walks past me and pulls the side table drawer open.

“I didn’t think I’d have to use this so soon,” he says under his breath.

My core clenches and my clit tingles in anticipation of what I know what he might keep in that nightstand.

He comes to stand in front of me again.

“Open your mouth, Melody.” A shiver rolls up my spine as his deep voice enunciates my full name.

I roll my lips together in defiance. It's hardly a fight and I'm quick to fold.

I love defying this man. It’s the only time I’ve ever felt safe. My entire life my parents’ love, the love of the audience, the love of the producers, all hinged on my absolute and complete obedience. If I acted well, performed, sang, did all the things they wanted from me, and gave my all everyday, I would be praised and rewarded. Critics would applaud my work, my performance.

If I got sick, or had an off day, the whispers would start. That I was past my prime. That maybe I wasn’t up to the task anymore. That maybe I wouldn’t be cast in the next one. It felt like the entire world waited with baited breath for my failure. For my drug addiction, or eating disorder. For my sex tape to drop, or a behind the scenes expose from a costar that I’m a bitch to work with.

With Harrison, I can be a brat. I can be bad, naughty, I can refuse commands and he doesn’t whisper that I’m done for - that I'm no longer worthy. He gives me an order, I refuse, I make him make me and God, the freedom, permission, to rebel is addictive. It’s expected. It’s wanted. A man like Harrison doesn’t want a sweet and soft sub. He wants a brat.

The freedom to do exactly what I want, when I want, with my own body is something I haven't been able to do until Harrison.

Harrison does that. He gives that to me. And I don’t think he quite understands what that does to me.

His face softens with affection for half a beat before he steels himself again, wearing the expression of a disappointed Dom.

His hand covers my mouth, his fingers digging painfully into my cheeks until I’m forced to open my mouth on a huffed laugh.

The soft pink vibrator is shoved roughly into my mouth, knocking gently against my teeth.

“Suck,” he commands.

Just to defy him, instead of closing my mouth and sucking, I roll my tongue around the bulb that will sit inside of me. I know he thinks he’s lubricating it for me, but it’s not necessary. I’m drenched already from how he manhandles me and the promise of play.

He narrows his eyes at me, and clenches his jaw. My cheeks burn against his hand as my smile widens.

“On your hands and knees.”

This command I’m eager to obey.

He inserts the bulb, resting it just against my g-spot and carefully aligns the suction part to my clit, but he doesn’t turn it on. It’s just there, and it makes me squirm, desperate for vibration or movement or anything.

“Don’t move,” he says before leaving the bedroom.

I stare out the open door in surprise, my jaw drops open. Is this my punishment? To set me up like this and then leave? I hear the freezer open and close. What the fuck?