Book 1 - Page 146 (2/2)

”Count, Anastasia!” he commands.

”One!” I shout at him, and it sounds like an expletive.

He hits me again, and the pain pulses and echoes along the line of the belt. Holy s.h.i.+t...

that smarts.

”Two!” I scream. It feels so good to scream.

His breathing is ragged and harsh. Whereas mine is almost non-existent as I desperately scrabble around my psyche looking for some internal strength. The belt cuts into my flesh again.

”Three!” Tears spring unwelcome into my eyes. Jeez - this is harder than I thought -

so much harder than the spanking. He's not holding anything back.

”Four!” I yell as the belt bites me again, and now the tears are streaming down my face.

I don't want to cry. It angers me that I am crying. He hits me again.

”Five.” My voice is more a choked, strangled sob, and in this moment, I think I hate him. One more, I can do one more. My backside feels as if it's on fire.

”Six,” I whisper as the blistering pain cuts across me again, and I hear him drop the belt behind me, and he's pulling me into his arms, all breathless and compa.s.sionate... and I want none of him.

”Let go... no... ” And I find myself struggling out his grasp, pus.h.i.+ng him away. Fighting him.

”Don't touch me!” I hiss. I straighten and stare at him, and he's watching me as if I might bolt, gray eyes wide, bemused. I dash the tears angrily out of my eyes with the backs of my hands, glaring at him.

”This is what you really likeMe, like this?” I use the sleeve of the bathrobe to wipe my nose.

He gazes at me warily.

”Well, you are one f**ked-up son of a b.i.t.c.h.”

”Ana,” he pleads, shocked.

”Don't you dare, Ana me! You need to sort your s.h.i.+t out, Grey!” And with that, I turn stiffly, and I walk out of the playroom, closing the door quietly behind me.

I clasp the door handle behind me and briefly lean back against the door. Where to go?

Do I runDo I stayI am so mad, angry scalding tears spill down my cheeks, and I brush them furiously aside. I just want to curl up. Curl up and recuperate in some way. Heal my shattered faith. How could I have been so stupidOf course it hurts.

Tentatively, I rub my backside. Aah! It's sore. Where to goNot his room. My room, or the room that will be mine, no, is mine... was mine. This is why he wanted me to keep it. He knew I would need distance from him.

I launch myself stiffly in that direction, conscious that Christian may follow me. It is still dark in the bedroom, dawn only a whisper in the skyline. I climb awkwardly into bed, careful not to sit on my aching and tender backside. I keep the bathrobe on, wrapping it around me, and curl up and really let go - sobbing hard into my pillow.

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