CHAPTER FIVE - PUNISHMENT & CONFESSIONS
891 Words
Ariella
The walls of my bedroom are closing in.
Pink, soft, safe—that’s what this space is supposed to be. But nothing feels safe after what I saw in the courtyard today. Remington, fists bloodied, jaw clenched, tearing into anyone who dared laugh at me. At my words.
My secret is out.
And he’s the only one who knows how dangerous it really is.
My phone buzzes on the bed beside me. Another notification. Another cruel comment. Another reminder that my private world isn’t private anymore.
But all I can think about is him.
The way he caged me against the wall. The way his voice dipped when he asked if my blog was true.
It is. God help me, it is.
I fall back on my pillows, squeezing my eyes shut. But instead of sleep, a memory hits me.
---
Flashback – Two Months Ago
It started small.
A pen stolen. A note passed. My laughter too loud in class when he was near. I loved pushing him, testing him, daring him to break that stupid mask of his.
And one day, he did.
We were in the library after hours. I had begged him to help me with math. He pretended he didn’t know half the answers, like always, but I saw the twitch in his jaw when I leaned too close.
So I whispered, “You like it when I tease you, don’t you, Remi?”
The next second, my notebook was ripped from my hands, and he had me pressed against the bookshelf, his hand gripping my wrist.
“Don’t play games you don’t understand, Ariella,” he’d growled, low and dangerous.
My heart had pounded so hard I thought it would burst. But I didn’t look away. I tilted my chin up, lips parting, daring him.
His eyes had gone dark—stormy, unrecognizable. He’d leaned close, his breath hot against my ear.
“You think this is a joke? That you can poke the beast and walk away?”
I had whispered back, reckless: “Then punish me.”
His grip had tightened, just enough to sting. My pulse had raced with heat and terror all tangled together.
And then—he’d let go. Walked away. Left me breathless and shaking.
---
Present – Ariella
I jolt back to reality, cheeks burning, heart racing. That moment—the first time he showed me a glimpse of the boy he hides—haunts me.
Because I wanted it. Still do.
A sharp knock rattles my door.
I freeze.
“Ariella.” His voice. Deep. Rough. Remington.
I scramble up, nearly tripping over my own blanket. My throat dries. “It’s late,” I whisper, as if that will stop him.
“Open the door.”
Something in his tone makes it impossible to refuse. My fingers tremble as I twist the knob.
And there he is—towering, broad shoulders tense, jaw sharp in the glow from the hall. His knuckles are bandaged now, but I can still smell the copper tang of blood clinging to him.
“Remi—”
He steps inside before I can finish, closing the door behind him. The lock clicks.
My heart leaps into my throat.
---
Remington
Her room smells like strawberries and sugar. Too innocent. Too sweet. It makes my chest ache, because nothing about me belongs in this space.
She stares at me like I’m both salvation and sin. Maybe I am.
“I shouldn’t be here,” I mutter. My hands clench at my sides. “But I can’t f*****g stay away.”
Her lips part. She whispers, “Then don’t.”
God. She doesn’t even know what that does to me.
I step closer, until her back hits the dresser. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t run. Her breath comes faster, chest rising and falling, eyes locked on mine like she’s daring me again.
Same as the library. Same as every time she’s pushed me to the edge.
And I snap.
My hand tangles in her hair, tilting her head back. My mouth crashes against hers, rough, claiming, not gentle in the slightest.
She gasps into me, her lips soft but eager, her hands clutching at my shirt like she’s been waiting for this as long as I have.
I devour her. I ruin her. I pour every ounce of hunger and frustration into the kiss until she’s trembling beneath me.
When I finally tear my mouth away, her lips are swollen, her eyes dazed.
“Remi…” she breathes.
And I know. I know if I don’t stop now, I’ll show her everything. The chains. The ropes. The kind of punishment she’s only fantasized about.
I press my forehead to hers, voice ragged.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for, Ariella.”
---
Ariella
I should be scared.
He kissed me like he wanted to destroy me. Like he wanted to own me.
And instead of running, instead of slapping him, I lean closer. I want more.
“I do know,” I whisper.
But he pulls back, eyes blazing, hands fisted like he’s fighting himself. “No, you don’t.”
The door slams shut behind him, leaving me breathless and burning.
And for the first time, I realize—Remington Cole is going to ruin me.
And I’m going to let him.
- Writer
