Chapter 14
655 Words
The car ride home was silent.
Not tense. Not cold.
Just silent—like something had died between us.
I kept my gaze on the passing streets, arms crossed, skin crawling in the expensive dress he picked.
His hand rested on my thigh like always.
But tonight, I didn’t feel claimed.
I felt caged.
⸻
Back at the mansion, I walked in without waiting for him. Straight past the guards. Up the stairs. Into the bedroom.
I ripped the choker off.
Threw it on the floor.
He followed, slow, like he already knew what was coming.
“Say it,” he said softly. “Get it out.”
I turned to him, fury flashing through me.
“You used me.”
His brow twitched.
“You brought me there like I was some f*****g showpiece. You let them laugh at me. Belittle me. Treat me like I was nothing.”
“They wouldn’t dare—”
“They didn’t have to,” I snapped. “Because you already did.”
His jaw clenched.
I stepped closer. “You didn’t defend me. You didn’t even look at me.”
“I was protecting you,” he said coldly. “You don’t know how they work. How they—”
“Bullshit. You weren’t protecting me. You were proving a point.”
His silence was confirmation.
I took a shaky breath.
“I want out, Dominic. I want to go back to the life I had. I’ll figure it out—I don’t need your money, your mansion, your goddamn collar.”
Something inside him snapped.
“You think you still have a life without me?”
I stepped back.
“You think you can just walk away?” he growled. “After I tore the world apart to keep you?”
“I never asked you to!”
“You begged for me,” he hissed. “Every time you moaned my name. Every time you let me inside you.”
“That wasn’t consent to be owned,” I whispered.
“No,” he said darkly, stepping closer. “But it was enough to make you mine.”
He grabbed my wrist.
I struggled.
“You don’t get to leave, baby. You were bought. Kept. Branded.”
“I’m not your f*****g property—”
“Yes. You are.”
He shoved me against the wall. Hard—but not enough to hurt. Just enough to trap me.
His hand wrapped around my throat again—tight, but not choking.
Just reminding.
“You want to know why I didn’t defend you tonight?” he whispered. “Because I wanted you to feel it.”
I froze.
“Feel the difference between where you came from… and where you are now. So you’d stop dreaming of escape.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“You’re cruel,” I choked.
He leaned in.
“I’m obsessed.”
His lips slammed into mine—violent, angry, desperate.
I tried to push him off.
He caught both wrists. Held them above my head.
“You don’t get to run from me. You don’t get to leave me.”
He spun me around. Bent me over the bed.
Tore the dress open.
“You want punishment?” he growled. “You’re gonna get it.”
His belt hit the floor. The cold sound of the buckle echoed in the room.
Then—smack—a leather strike to my ass. Hard. Cruel.
I cried out. Not from pain. From shame. From the twist of arousal I couldn’t control.
“You think you’re not worthy of me?” he hissed. “Fine. I’ll treat you like what you think you are.”
Another smack.
“You’re not a woman tonight. You’re a thing. My thing.”
He pushed my face into the mattress.
And took me—raw, rough, feral—like a man destroying the last piece of her rebellion.
- Writer
