Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
On the fourth spank, when I begin to refocus on the mark, my head floats away from my body. And then Matthew—with his ugly little hand gripping my chin—he tries to rotate my head toward my fake brother.
I fight against him. “You’re sick,” I sneer.
“Look at him.”
Rocky can’t protest too much, and reluctantly, I set my scorching gaze on him. He’s looking away while the paddle strikes my ass with force. I jolt forward, breathing hard. That’s leaving a welt.
“Look at her,” Matthew says to a kneeling Rocky.
I see the tic of his jaw muscle. I see his nose nearly flare. He tries to maintain composure, and like a lever is flipped, he lets out a dazzling laugh, one that glimmers his gunmetal eyes. “You think I care about her? This is nothing,” Rocky says.
The next smack is more painful than the others. Like the paddle shot-putted my heart a million feet out of my body, I feel hollowed hearing him say that out loud.
Until Rocky looks at me.
His eyes aren’t his eyes. They belong to Cole Miller, but he’s in there. With his tensed jaw and the slight dark crinkle of his brow, Rocky is in there, and my pulse beats again, at a fast rhythm I like and need.
Matthew is watching Rocky watch me get spanked. The power play is disgusting. I hope we’re the first this secret society has done this to, but it’s hard to believe we could be. After what happens tonight, maybe we will be the last.
And thank God Rocky isn’t my actual brother. I’m banking on the idea that Nova is tuning this out on the other side of him.
“Harder,” Matt orders.
Rocky’s lip twitches in rage, just barely.
With a hard whack, the paddle pushes me forward again, and I curse under my breath. Matthew holds my face upright, so I won’t look away from Rocky. Jesus.
I’m smacked. Jostled. Incredibly aroused each time Rocky and I lock eyes. My heat pulsates like a heartbeat between my legs. Each low thump just reminds me that I would rather be turned on than feel the nothingness crawl into me. But I’m thankful no one can see my arousal. My wet panties are the only evidence.
Rocky clenches his jaw. He has to rub his mouth and pretend to slightly smile like it’s hilarious, but I see past that. I see him gripping onto his willpower and struggling not to end this here.
Whack. That one hurt, and not in a good way. I lurch forward, and Rocky almost reaches out to me. No. We have this in the bag. We’ve come this far. We’re okay.
“Harder,” Matthew orders again.
I’m smacked so hard, my arms buckle beneath me, and I fall on my chest.
“Stop,” Claire cries out. “You’re hurting her.”
“I’m okay.” I breathe sharply, not wanting her to capture any heat. “Really, I’m fine.” Now my elbows throb and my ass burns.
“Satisfied?” Rocky asks with a slanted, cocky grin.
Matthew finally distances himself from me. “Next.”
After the paddles, I’m no longer the center of Matthew’s obsession, and more tasks are doled out in a frenzy. Firefly members pour freezing buckets of water over our heads. Animal blood is smeared on our faces. Run-of-the-mill hazing that has Kendra vomiting after being told to down a cement-mixer shot and has Claire silently weeping and shivering.
Any minute now, our fifth should be barreling through the wine cellar so we can finally pull the rope. My wet hair sticks to my cheeks, and the biting chill from the ice water and the dank cellar is pounding my temples.
I hug my arms around my shaking body.
“Stop,” Nova snaps and spits out a cement-mixer shot someone tries to force in his mouth.
I swing my head in his direction. He wipes his lips roughly with the back of his hand. The curdling mixture of milky Baileys and acidic lime would make anyone puke.
“Take the shot, roach!” Matthew shouts.
Rocky is on his feet and laughing, animal blood streaked on his cheeks and abs. “It’s not that big of a deal, man. It’s a shot.” He says it like it’s child’s play. “Give it to me.” He motions with his fingers, biding time for our fifth to show.
“Another, roach,” a Firefly member orders, busy funneling shots to Kendra, even after she puked. Her eyes look glassy.
“She’s already drunk,” I snap at him.
Matthew hears us. “No more shots.” He raises a hand to the Firefly members, and they fall back behind him. “On your feet, roaches—you two only.” He addresses Rocky and me.
Rocky is already standing, but I pick myself up, cold puddles beneath my bare feet.
Matthew laughs while eyeing my body, and I’m not the fucking dummy here. After being drenched with water, my white panties and bra have become see-through. He tips his head to Rocky. “Your sister has nice tits.”