Chapter 23: The Shot

••~~MADDISON~~••

The moment I opened my eyes, my whole body remembered. Everything rushed back at once… his voice in my ear, the sting, the spanks, the stretch of him holding me down, the way I begged. The way my pussy clenched and the deep tingles in my core.

God. Who knew pain could feel like that? Every smack had me jolting, but somehow it lit me up inside, like he was flipping switches I didn’t even know I had. My skin buzzed, my thighs shook, heat curled low in my belly. I swear I thought I’d explode right there.

Was I supposed to like that? To crave it?

Am I addicted to pain?

Do I love torture?

No. No.

But it’s impossible to lie to my own body. It betrayed me, tightening for him, begging for more. Every sting made my sex ache worse, like my clit was wired straight to the slap of his hand. My whole body was hijacked, strung out for him… like we were in some dark romance movie.

Heck, even Anna couldn’t handle it when Christian did it. And here I am soaking it up like a psycho. Shit. I am so not normal.

God he’s so evil!

And he left a note.

As usual.

I picked it between two fingers.

DOCTOR’S APPOINTMENT

TAKE THE SHOT – Corian

Of course.

Was it crazy that I’d started getting used to these bossy-ass sticky notes… his all-caps, CEO-style instructions.

Like it’s completely normal to wake up wrecked, throbbing, only to find a sticky note on the pillow like:

Do as I say or I fuck your brains out again.

I shook my head, half annoyed, half something else. He's always controlling, always writing shit like the world’s his personal to-do list. And apparently, I’m at the top.

A sharp knock pulled me out of my thoughts.

Corian?

Nope.

“Ms. Summers, the doctor is here,” Ausley called politely.

Right. The Shot.

Because apparently, according to Corian, the worst thing that could possibly happen… was me carrying his baby.

Just to be clear; I don't want a baby either!

My life is sort of a mess right now..... and I have dreams.

And having a baby with someone like him? Heck no!

Where even was he? Out? Or holed up in his broody billionaire man cave again?

“Thanks, Ausley. I’ll be right down!” I called back.

But I didn’t move. Not yet. Instead, I sank back onto the bed, letting the pillows swallow my head, eyes glued to the ceiling like maybe the answers to life would drop from the chandelier.

God. How long was I out?

He always worked me straight into the kind of sleep you can’t buy in stores. Deep. Spent. Dreamless.

And every single time I dared to feel good… like really good, even for a second… That’s when it hit.

The pit. The guilt. The Julia scare.

That crawling sick feeling like something was wrong and I just didn’t know what. Like she was passed out behind some sketchy gas station, her phone dead, her legs splayed, and some lowlife asshole helping himself while she’s too wasted to lift a finger.

I groaned, dragging both hands down my face like I could scrub the thoughts out. Deep breaths, Maddison. Just breathe.

Don’t feel guilty that you actually feel good without her.

You deserve this.

This sick, twisted, fucking good feeling.

Besides, if she were knocked out in a ditch, you’d have heard by now. Someone would’ve called. Right? Right.

I dragged myself out of bed, sore in all the wrong, but also totally right, places.

The mirror caught me on the way to the bathroom. My hair looked like it fought a dragon. My lips were still red. And I couldn’t stop staring at the little pink bruises blooming at my hip.

Marks. His marks.

The man should come with a warning label.

I peeled off my shirt and hopped into the shower. The water stung a little, but in that good way. Warm water. Cool steam. I let it roll down my back. Let it hit all the sore spots. I reached behind to check the damage. And you know what? Corian was right. No scars. No real bruises. Just a gentle sting when my fingers brushed the top of my ass and that low, dull hum in my hips that whispered I’d been very well handled.

On my way out, I caught a glimpse of my butt in the bathroom mirror… and honestly? I couldn’t believe it survived that.

I agreed to let him break me. Half drunk, fully smitten. But it wasn’t regret. I wanted it. Every wild, filthy second.

And damn… I bent in ways I didn’t even know I could.

I tugged on jeans and a white tee. Just trying to look like a regular girl who didn’t get sexually rearranged twelve hours ago.

Trying.

I even added mascara and lip balm, like maybe that would erase the whole “Corian did unspeakable things to me” glow on my face. Spoiler: it didn’t.

When I got downstairs, there he was.

The doctor.

Tall-ish. Slim build. Brown hair combed back so precisely it probably needed a GPS. Glasses. Beige sweater. Tan pants. The kind of man who might own a chinchilla and journal about his food intake.

“Sorry I made you wait,” I said, pausing on the last step, trying not to look like I was sizing him up even though I absolutely was.

He turned slowly, smile way too sweet but didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Oh, not at all,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Gave me a moment to bond with Corian’s art collection.”

A stranger in Corian’s world, standing in his house, about to stick a needle in me… and I don’t know, but something about him gave me the ick.