Marked by Creed

Chapter One Hundred: Devotion Wrecked Me

-----Axton’s POV-----

He had begged.

On his knees, shirtless, stripped down to nothing but truth and shame and want.

And she said yes.

Helen—the woman who shattered him with a glance—had said yes.

She wanted to learn how to punish him. Own him. And he had never been harder in his entire goddamn life.

He’d brought her to the bedroom slowly, like leading a goddess to her throne.

Every breath burned. Every heartbeat was a countdown.

When she said, “Strip,” his c**k twitched. He obeyed instantly. Let his shirt fall, undid his belt, shoved his jeans down, boxers next. The air hit him like ice, but the fire in her eyes kept him warm.

Then he dropped again.

Knees to the carpet. Palms open. Head bowed.

And she stepped into his world and rewrote the rules.

“Command me,” he’d whispered.

“I don’t know what to do,” she’d admitted.

He wanted to eat the uncertainty from her lips. “I’ll guide you.”

And when she touched his face, his soul lit up.

“Slap me.”

He could feel her hesitation—feel it in the tremble of her fingers. He kissed her wrist, urged her to do it.

And when her palm struck his cheek—

He f*****g moaned.

His c**k jerked. His body tensed. She had touched him in a way no one ever had.

“Again,” he begged.

She slapped him harder.

He groaned louder.

Then she walked around him. Fingertips trailing down his spine, teasing the edges of his self-control.

“On the bed.”

He crawled onto it like a man condemned and grateful.

She straddled his chest, dragging soaked panties across his skin. Every inhale was her scent. Every exhale was worship.

“You want me to take these off?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Beg.”

“Please,” he rasped. “Baby. I need to taste you.”

She slid them aside.

Lowered herself onto his mouth.

And Axton knew heaven.

She tasted like power and sin and salvation. He licked her like she was the only thing keeping him alive. Every moan she gave, every shiver in her thighs, was another reason to stay on this earth.

When she came, he was the altar beneath her.

But it wasn’t over.

“Flip over.”

He obeyed.

Face down, ass bared, c**k rock-f*****g-hard.

Then the belt—his belt—dragged across his back.

The sound.

The sting.

The pleasure.

He groaned deep. Animalistic.

“Again?” she asked.

“Please.”

She struck him again. Again.

His mind blurred. His skin burned. His soul sang.

Then she flipped him, climbed on top, and lowered herself onto him.

He nearly lost it right then.

So tight. So hot. So perfect.

“Stay still.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She rode him slowly, her nails raking his chest, her voice commanding his entire world.

“You don’t get to finish until I say.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “I swear.”

She moved like silk and fire, hips grinding, every roll making him ache.

Then she grabbed his throat—lightly. Owningly.

“You’re mine.”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I’m yours. Forever.”