Free Distorted Hope by Marissa Honeycutt Page A

his long strides, my footsteps echoing slightly on the cool stone beneath my feet.

Nathan pushed open the doors to a very large bedroom. The floors were dark wood and the walls white, like in Jason’s room, but my gaze was immediately drawn to an enormous four-poster bed on the wall to my left. The dark wood posts were carved with elaborate floral designs. I didn’t want to think about Nathan and bed, so I quickly moved my gaze across a huge white rug that began under the bed and extended out almost to the fireplace across the room. I could see the lighted balcony out another set of double glass doors directly across from the entrance. An elaborate wrought-iron chandelier hung from the high-vaulted ceiling, providing light for the room, supplemented by lamps on the nightstands flanking the bed.
    Beyond the bed was a set of opened, double wooden doors like in Jason’s room, which I assumed led to the bathroom. Along the wall to the left of the fireplace, a narrow wooden staircase led up to a mezzanine sitting room with a large window.
    “Undress and get on your knees on the floor at the end of the bed,” Nathan said, closing the doors behind him. He crossed the room and walked through the double doors, turning on the light showing it was, indeed, the bathroom—a very spacious one, from what I could see.
    He wanted me to undress? I shook and stared at the opening he’d just walked through, then looked around the room, wondering if there was a way to escape. This was obviously his room.
    A single, framed photograph on the mantle above the fireplace caught my eye. I cautiously moved across the room to look at it. It was a picture of a smiling young woman with long, brown hair, about my age, holding a tiny baby wrapped in a pink blanket.
    “Do you have a hearing problem?”
    I turned to see Nathan standing a few feet away, arms crossed over his bare, beautiful… perfect… chest. My mouth opened as I stared. He was muscular without looking like Mr. Universe. His six-pack was really an eight-pack and I had a strange urge to bite his brown nipples.
    I looked away when I realized what I was doing and blushed. “No, Patrón,” I whispered.
    “Then why is your dress still on?” He walked over and pulled the dress over my head with one swift move and threw it on the ground. “When I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it.”
    I tried to cover myself but he took my hands and held them at my sides. I trembled as he looked at me.
    “Why are you not shaved?”
    “What?” I looked down. I had shaved my legs this afternoon.
    “I think you must have a hearing problem.” He picked me up roughly, making me cry out in surprise, and went to sit on the bed. He laid me on my stomach across his hard legs and I squirmed to get loose. “Let’s see if this helps. Count.”
    Count? What the…? I shrieked as he spanked my ass. Hard. The skin burned where he had made contact. I braced myself for another blow but it didn’t come.
    “Aren’t you forgetting something?” he growled. “Count!” He hit me again and I screeched.
    “Two,” I whimpered.
    “No, you didn’t count the first one. One.”
    “One,” I whimpered, skin burning and tears in my eyes.
    Smack!
    “Two,” I cried, tears falling down my cheeks. I tried to get free but he held me firmly against his strong, hard legs.
    Smack!
    “Three… four… five…” I kept counting as the hits seemed to get harder. He alternated sides but hit the same spot on each side, over and over again. I could barely get out numbers nine and ten. I hung limply over his lap, tears streaming down onto the rug below me.
    He stopped after ten and then flipped me around to hold me as I cried. He just hit me and now he’s comforting me? The confusion made me cry harder.
    He rocked me gently, petting my hair. When my tears were dry, he cupped my chin and lifted so I was looking up at him.
    His eyes widened slightly when I met his gaze. I think I saw a flicker of regret in his eyes