uh oh!
1376 Words
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Cassie’s POV
I was right. I was f****d.
It took nearly two hours to get to Jessie’s house, and by then the alcohol had started to wear off—just enough for the dread to creep in. He was still furious. I could see it in the tight line of his jaw, the tension in his grip on the steering wheel. But the moment he looked at me—really looked at me—there was something else in his eyes.
Relief.
He didn’t say a word. Just slammed his car door shut, yanked mine open, and hauled me into his arms like I weighed nothing. Bridal style, no less. His touch was rough, but not cruel. Commanding. He carried me inside and straight into his bedroom, where he dropped me on the bed like a problem he didn’t know how to solve. Then he paced. Back and forth. A dark storm with no place to go, muttering to himself and glaring at the floor like it had personally betrayed him.
I sat in silence, unsure what version of him I was going to get.
After a few tense minutes, I couldn’t take it anymore. “I don’t get what the big deal is. Everyone else was drinking too. Why can’t I?”
Bad move.
He stopped mid-step, turned to me slowly, and walked over with lethal calm. When he spoke, his voice was low—poisoned velvet.
“Everyone else isn’t you,” he hissed. “I don’t give a damn what they do. You were drinking. Alone. Unsupervised. And the jungle juice, Cassie? Seriously?” He leaned in closer, eyes blazing. “Why would you do that? This isn’t like you.”
That part hit harder than I expected. But instead of admitting the truth, I lashed out.
“You don’t know what I’m like! I can do whatever I want. If I want to drink, I will. And you still didn’t answer my question—how did you even know I was there?!”
His expression darkened. Steel.
“Watch your tone, little girl. You’re in enough trouble as it is.” His hand came up, gripping my chin. Not hard—but firm enough that I couldn’t look away. “Brandon told me. Because he knows you’re mine. And anything that concerns you concerns me. Especially this. You don’t belong at those parties. You’re better than that, Cassie.”
My breath caught. His? Who the hell did he think he was?
I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to keep my voice steady. “I didn’t mean to drink, okay? I didn’t know it was spiked. I just… I’ve never been to a party before.” I looked down, ashamed to admit it. “And so what if I wanted to hook up with someone? I’m an adult.”
His expression twisted into something unreadable. Hurt? Rage? Possession?
He studied me in silence, then nodded, accepting my answer like a sentence had been passed.
“That doesn’t change the fact that you need to be punished.”
I froze. “What?”
He chuckled darkly, his tone shifting into something colder, more dangerous.
“You heard me. Accident or not, you made a reckless choice—and I’m not letting it slide. You need to understand there are consequences, Cassie. And I hope you realize, I’m going to enjoy this. Every second. And God help any guy who so much as looks at you. You belong to me.”
My heart pounded, rage and confusion clashing with something else. Something darker. “You’re not my dad. You don’t get to tell me what to do. And I’m not yours!”
Another mistake.
He grabbed my arm, not gently. “I’d like to get this over with so we can sleep. The sooner you cooperate, the sooner it ends. You earned twenty with the belt—ten for drinking, ten for that attitude. And believe me, that’s merciful.”
I opened my mouth to argue again, but the alcohol—the fading buzz, the vulnerability—hit all at once. My eyes stung.
I nodded. “Yes.”
His voice sharpened. “Yes what?”
I didn’t know the right answer. I guessed. “Yes, sir.”
He smiled. It wasn’t sweet.
“Good girl. Now, over my knee.”
I hesitated, cheeks burning, before slowly walking over. He sat down on the edge of the bed, patting his thigh. I bent over, hands braced on his legs to steady myself.
He stroked my back gently, mock-soothing. “Count for me. Every single one.”
The belt landed hard. I cried out, then choked out, “One.”
Each lash came sharper than the last. If I missed a number, he added another. My skin burned. I writhed, whimpered, but he held me firm until I was limp and sobbing.
When it was done, he lifted me into his lap, arms strong around my shaking body.
“You did good, baby. Let’s get you into a bath.”
I didn’t protest. Couldn’t. He carried me to the bathroom like I weighed nothing, settled me on the counter, and ran the water. My instincts screamed run, but the sick part? I didn’t want to.
This side of him—the gentleness after the storm—was addictive.
He turned to me, eyes softer now, sleeves rolled up. When he reached for me, I didn’t resist. Just raised my arms and let him undress me, piece by piece, before easing me into the tub.
I hissed as my sore skin met the water, and he chuckled darkly. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice.”
He washed me slowly, methodically. His fingers worked over my muscles with surprising care. I hated him. God, I hated him. But I also wanted to melt into him.
“I don’t like you, Cassie,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “But when Brandon said you were drinking... I saw red. The thought of someone touching you—hurting what’s mine—made me insane.”
I snapped out of my daze, eyes burning. “I’m not yours! Who gave you the right?!”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, eyes darkening with something raw. “But the idea of you with someone else... it makes me sick.”
I looked at him, really looked. He wasn’t just angry. He was scared. Scared of losing control. Of losing me.
“So what now?” I whispered. “What are we?”
He exhaled slowly. “We’re not friends. Not yet. But you’ll stop pushing. No flirting with other guys. No lies. You’re mine, and I don’t share. We'll talk rules when you're sober.”
I didn’t know why, but the word rules made my thighs clench. He noticed—and smirked.
“You like the sound of that, don’t you? Want me to show you what a reward feels like?”
God help me—I nodded.
He lifted me out of the tub, cradling me like I was precious. I didn’t fight him. I trusted him. Fully, stupidly, dangerously trusted him.
He laid me on the bed like I might break, then hovered above me. “Say it, Cassie. Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.”
That was all he needed.
He kissed me—hungry, rough, possessive. My mind blanked. His hand traced down my stomach, lingering just above my waistband.
“Is this okay?”
I nodded. Surprised. He asked.
“Can I touch you, Cassandra?”
His use of my full name made me shiver. I moaned as his fingers brushed between my thighs, teasing, exploring. It wasn’t fast or rough—it was intentional. Torturous. Reverent.
I begged. I didn’t even know for what.
“Please.”
He gave me exactly what I didn’t know I needed.
My body tensed, pressure building in a way I’d never felt before. I clung to him as I shattered with a moan of his name. And then he was holding me, cleaning me up, pulling his shirt over my head and whispering against my temple.
“Good girl. Sleep well, princess.”
And I did. In his arms. Completely undone.
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- Writer
