Crimson And Heat

Ivana stared at her husband.

He was already drenched from the showerhead, hair dripping wet, water trailing down his broad chest. In fact, he was fucking soaked, and somehow that made her wet too, the ache between her thighs turning unbearable.

The worst part?

She was standing right in front of him.

Facing him.

Her devil.

Her legs ached from standing so long, but she did not dare complain. Now that her eyes were crystal clear and the drunken haze had completely disappeared, she knew she was already dead in Kacy's hands.

He was only observing her.

But she knew better.

Kacy never just observed.

"Kacy," she whispered softly.

"Hmmm… pretty, anything?" he replied calmly, still staring.

The kind of stare that always came before the storm.

"You're just… staring," she murmured.

"And?" he arched a brow, smiling.

"Um… I don't know," she muttered, fiddling with her fingers.

She whimpered when one of his arms wrapped around both her hands.

"You fucking know, Ivy."

His eyes dragged over her slowly, deliberately.

"This gown fits you more," he smirked.

His other hand slid around her waist, tugging lightly at the fabric.

"Do you know why?"

He licked his pretty pink lips.

She gasped, instinctively licking her own, slow and seductive.

"Um… because I'm soaked and wet," she said innocently.

He face-palmed, muttering a swear word under his breath, rolling his eyes.

"No."

He leaned closer.

"Well, you aren't the only one, little moonlight."

He whispered it right against her lips.

Hot.

Seductive.

She turned her face away with a sharp gasp, biting down hard on her lip. Goosebumps exploded across her skin. The sensation burned through her, and the worst part was knowing he could smell her wetness.

Which meant…

He knew.

Grabbing her chin, he turned her face back to him, patting it softly. One finger traced her swollen lips, bruised from how nervously she had been biting them.

He hooked that finger between her lips, forcing them apart, brow lifting in warning.

Then his grip on her waist tightened, pulling her closer.

That finger returned to torturing her mouth.

At first, only a soft moan slipped out.

Then his thumb rubbed over the bruise, slow… deliberate…

Before he bit down.

Not enough to hurt.

More than enough to make her scream.

The sound tore from her throat, loud and broken.

And that was all it took.

Her moan spilled out painfully, beautifully, like music to him. God, her voice did things to him. He wanted her screaming his name, over and over, just so he could hear that cracked, desperate sound again.

Fuck.

He was a psycho.

And he wasn't done ruining her.

He sucked the spot he had bitten, harder this time. She moaned mercilessly. Then his face buried into her neck, licking and tasting her like his favorite candy.

Between slow, ruined licks, he murmured against her skin, voice dark and possessive.

"Fucking rose… my fucking rose."

He licked harder.

She cried out, her moans cracking, tears spilling freely as she gripped his silky hair and buried her face in it, covering her sounds with her hand.

She wasn't crying from pain.

She was crying from pleasure.

She inhaled deeply.

His scent overwhelmed her. Vanilla mixed with strawberry and chocolate, the water still dripping from his hair. It left her numb, breathless, shaking.

She cried loudly.

Then, finally, he pulled back.

She gasped for air, clutching his shoulder for support as he stared down at her, admiring the sight.

Her tear-stained face.

Her puffed emerald eyes, red from crying.

Her dripping hair.

Her rose-red neck covered in his marks.

She looked ruined.

Claimed.

Only he could make her like this.

Breathless.

Red.

Gasping for survival.

Her rose scent invaded his senses, her hair carrying hints of rose and honey. She was fucking beautiful. Needy. His.

She always had been.

He blinked, dragging himself back to reality, then smirked when she stared up at him with those innocent eyes.

If only she knew what was running through his head.

"So…" he smiled slowly. "Where were we?"

He winked.

She hissed softly.

"Oh, right," he continued calmly. "Little moonlight, you were very feisty."

He tilted his head.

"First, you dragged the showerhead with me and soaked me. That's two sins."

He paused.

"And what follows after two sins, Ivy?"

"Um… I....ahhh!"

She gasped as he spanked her ass twice.

Fuck.

She had not seen that coming.

She shot him a confused glare.

"No stuttering, pretty," he said smoothly. "Give me a clear answer."

She glared harder.

So because I stuttered, this man spanked me?

She huffed silently.

"Please.....ahhhh!"

Another brutal spank landed, making her scream.

She almost reached back to rub the sore spot, but his glare stopped her instantly. She dropped her hands, pouting.

"Talk, Ivy," he said coolly.

"Or I will bend you over this tub and make sure your throbbing pussy is pressed against the handle with no support."

His eyes burned with authority.

Then softened.

His lips dropped to her ear.

He lingered there, breath warm, tongue barely grazing her most sensitive spot. Ivana gasped sharply, fingers curling at her sides.

"You don't want that, do you?" he whispered.

Slow.

Seductive.

Deliberate.

Every word sank deep, invading her senses, settling somewhere dangerous inside her. He pulled back just enough to wink, a wicked smirk playing on his lips.

She didn't need anyone to tell her to talk.

Her husband was not all talk.

If Kacy said he would do something, he would—and it would be far worse if she forced his hand.

"A punishment," she blurted out quickly.

A low chuckle escaped him.

He had once thought she was daring. Feisty. Untouchable.

Unfortunately for her, she had married the devil in human form.

Kacy Lillard.

"And how many?" he asked, brow lifting as he slowly licked his lips.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. Her hands turned crimson at her sides. He laughed softly, watching the way she flushed.

"How many what—ahhh!"

Two sharp impacts landed in quick succession, drawing a startled scream from her.

"Don't question," he said calmly, smiling as though he hadn't just done that.

"Just answer."

"What was your ques—fuck—ahhh!"

Four more followed, merciless and precise. By the time he stopped, she was shaking.

Nine.

He had counted every single one.

"The more you delay, Ivy, the worse it gets," he said smoothly.

"It's a simple question, pretty."

His gaze dipped briefly before returning to her face.

"And don't tell me you didn't feel that."

She cursed him silently.

"Oh, and your ass little moonlight," he continued casually.

"It's red."

"Fine, butt head," she snapped before she could stop herself.

"It's two punishments."

Oh crap.

Ivana, shut up.

"And it's not red," she rushed on.

Ivana, don't...don't say it...

"And I barely felt it, so it isn't a punishment, jerk."

The second the words left her mouth, panic hit.

She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for retaliation.

Nothing came.

When she opened them, he was simply staring at her.

A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips.

That smirk was far more terrifying than anger.

"Ivy," he called quietly.

She took a step back.

That voice—low, husky—never meant anything good.

"Ivy," he repeated.

Another step back.

Her spine nearly touched the edge of the tub.

Her mind raced. Escape. Distraction. Anything.

"Kacy, please," she said quickly, forcing a nervous smile.

"I'm sober now, and um… I'm cold."

She scratched her head, rambling.

"So maybe I could just...um...leave the tub? I'm not really in the mood to bathe."

His jaw twitched.

She pressed on desperately.

"If not, can I at least sit? Please?"

She looked up at him with pleading eyes.

He stared at her for a long moment.

Unmoved.

Then he laughed.

Not amused.

Not gentle.

Predatory.

In three sharp strides, he closed the distance between them.

There was no space left.

No escape.

Her breath hitched as her heartbeat matched his.

"Why," he asked softly.

Gentle.

Dangerous.

Her mind screamed.

Why?

Why what?

She forced a smile. "Why… what? I thought I already...."

"Shut up," he snapped, teeth grinding.

"Just answer me for once."

His frustration crackled in the air.

"You and I both know what my why is about," he continued coldly.

"It's not that weak excuse."

He leaned closer, voice dropping.

"If you're cold and soaked, then behave."

A pause.

"And you'll be out of here."

His mouth hovered dangerously close to her ear.

"If not," he murmured, "you stay."

Her breath caught.

"And you tell me the truth."

Another pause.

"I know you're fucking dripping wet," he added quietly.

"But we'll deal with that throbbing pussy later."

His gaze burned into hers.

"Answer me. Now."

She nodded quickly, fear finally winning.

"Since you can't answer," he went on smoothly, straightening.

"I'll help you."

He loosened his tie and tossed it aside, undoing a few buttons of his shirt, revealing just enough to make her pulse jump.

"And don't think I forgot your outburst," he added casually.

"You said it wasn't red."

A wicked smile appeared.

"There's a mirror by the tub," he said lightly.

"So you won't need to strain your neck while I check."

He winked.

"I don't want to look," Ivana whispered, her voice breaking. "Please, Kacy… I'm sorry for what I said. It's red. I know it is. You don't need to check."

Tears blurred her vision, sliding down her cheeks unchecked.

If it had been another man, he might have softened. Might have taken pity. Might have chosen mercy.

But Kacy had never been a gentleman.

Forgiveness was not part of his language.

"Ivana…" he said calmly.

Too calmly.

His voice carried just enough weight to make her stomach drop. She was already backed against the end of the tub—exactly where he wanted her, though he hadn't planned it. Fate had done the work for him.

And now, she was completely at his mercy.

She swallowed hard.

"Fuck," she muttered, glancing down at her feet.

Only then did she realize it—her expensive flats, still on, soaking uselessly in the water. Worth a fortune. Ruined in seconds.

She hissed in irritation and kicked them off, flinging them carelessly across the bathroom.

Kacy laughed.

A real laugh this time...low, amused, dangerous.

He stepped out of the tub, retrieved the shoes, and disappeared into the bedroom without a word.

She waited.

When he returned, she lifted her chin. "Why did you waste time?"

He smirked. "Had to put them somewhere safe. Those heels cost enough for you to kill me with just one look."

"Thanks… anyway," she murmured.

His eyes flicked over her face, lingering. Then his lips curved.

"Little moonlight."

Heat rushed to her cheeks. She turned away, facing the mirror by the edge of the tub.

Playtime was over.

She watched him move slowly closer, stepping into the tub beside her.

The water level was low, but she felt it rise and fall with each step he took toward her, the rhythm matching the frantic beat of her heart.

Her eyes stayed glued to the mirror, just like he'd said. She could see all of him there, his full frame reflected back at her.

The moment she tore her gaze away, she gasped.

His breath brushed her neck, warm and deliberate, followed by a bite, then a slow suck that pulled a moan from her lips. He moved higher, then lower, marking her collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise as her lips parted in helpless, relentless sounds.

One of his hands reached forward, pinching her nipple through her gown, then the other, making her arch as her back pressed into his chest.

His hand slid along her bare back, around to her front, gripping her breast firmly beneath the fabric. Still behind her, he bent lower, his mouth closing over her clothed nipple.

Oh God.

Her cries shattered, broken and wet with tears, her body trembling as he bit down, harder this time, and her moans only grew louder in response.

Then he shifted, coming around to her front, blocking the mirror completely.

His tongue flicked over her nipple through the gown, sucking deeply while she unraveled beneath him. He gave the same attention to the other, slow and relentless, while his hands stayed inside her gown, stroking, squeezing, teasing.

His fingers traced her nipples as his mouth worked over her like she was something sweet, something he wanted to savor.

Her gown was already soaked, and the heat of his mouth only made it worse. Her body burned, aching for his touch, every nerve on fire.

She couldn't hold back her sounds even if she tried.

He wouldn't let her.

He wanted her undone, trembling, a moaning mess—and he got exactly that.

"Fuck… Christ, Kacy…"

She moaned loudly as his teeth grazed her nipple, teasing just enough to make her body shiver. She bit her hand, holding back the tears that threatened to spill, her body trembling, numb with pure sensation and pleasure.

He released her briefly, kissing the spot again and again, each touch leaving her dizzy.

"Yes, little moonlight… that's my name. Keep calling it, baby," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

And his mouth found her throat, holding there just long enough to pull a sharp, breathless moan from her lips.

His teeth sank lightly into her neck, drawing another moan from her lips, already hoarse from screaming.

"Fuck, I love your moans. They're sweet melodies in my ear," he whispered, licking her earlobes, making her cry out in a trembling, tearful moan.

"Kacy… please… ahhhhhhh!"

She screamed as he traced her shoulder, leaving marks of their fire and passion everywhere. But he didn't stop—he pressed kisses to her skin, deep and insistent, until she had to grip the edge of the tub just to steady herself, gasping for air.

He stared at her, smirking wickedly, taking in the beautiful traces he had left on her skin.

She looked breathtaking, flushed, lustful, hair everywhere, lips swollen and inviting, like she was made for him to kiss again and again and again, until she begged him to stop, her sinful, breathtaking emerald eyes locked onto his.

Damn… he wanted her badly,every part of him ached for her and even his little junior throbbed, craving the sweet heat of her. She was his little moonlight, and he was impossibly hard for her.

He moved away for a moment, then returned, sitting behind her on the edge of the tub. With a slow, deliberate motion, he spun her around to face him.

Her eyes met his, wide and innocent, yet betraying a glimmer of lust she couldn't hide.

His gaze raked over her, drinking in every curve, every shiver, every silent invitation. Desire, lust, and possessiveness blazed in his eyes, unrelenting and raw.

Finally, he held her with that magnetic stare, and with a tone that made her heart pound and her pulse race, he whispered the words she wasn't ready to hear:

"Now… the real punishment."