“What are you doing?!”

 

Eliza dropped Nash’s phone like it burned her, her cheeks prickling with white hot embarrassment to be caught doing something so incredibly juvenile as snooping on his phone.

 

“I… I…” Her voice caught in her throat as he snatched it away and tossed it on his pile of clothing, one of her fluffy towels slung around his waist. He’d been in the shower, but she’d been so engrossed in what she’d been doing that she hadn’t even noticed the water shut off or the door open. Poor form, Eliza, poor form.

 

“Well?” he snapped, his hands in fists by his side.

 

“I thought it was mine, so—”

 

“Try again,” Nash hissed, his voice low and dangerous. She opened her mouth, another lie on the tip of her tongue, then pressed her lips together firmly. He’d surely see through whatever lie she offered him; he was great at reading her, even if they’d been apart for almost two and a half weeks.

 

“I have no excuse, Master,” she offered, dropping her gaze and softening her voice, hoping that the shift in her demeanor may work on him. However, when she peered up again, he was still glowering. “I was snooping.”

 

“Why?” The word cut through the tense air between them, encouraging tears to spring to her eyes, but he remained unmoved. They’d had such an amazing scene together tonight too; her ass still hurt from how he’d spanked it, her sex pleasantly sore from how savagely he’d fucked her. Christmas and New Years had come and gone, and they hadn’t seen each other once over the holiday. Nor had he been very communicative through text, claiming he was visiting family for the holiday.

 

Only she’d seen him. Downtown. Well, she’d seen his bike, but she could pick the damn thing out of a line-up at this point. He’d been lying to her. Distant. Unresponsive. After they’d finished tonight and she’d cleaned up, Eliza couldn’t help herself. As soon as he shut himself up in the bathroom, she’d grabbed his phone and started looking through his message, fully expecting to find another girl on the line. It had been stupid. Pathetic. His most recent text message was from her, and the rest were clearly men based on the writing patterns. Innocent. In fact, it seemed he barely even used his phone, which made her feel even worse. All his calls were from her and a guy named Micky—who she’d creeped on Nash’s Facebook app too. Totally normal looking. Had a family. Older gentleman.

 

Pathetic.

 

“I’m afraid your tears won’t work on me, slut,” he said sharply. The use of the word “slut” told her he was angry, but not real angry. It could have been worse. It would have been worse if he’d used her actual name. “What were you doing on my phone?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Eliza told him, her voice trembling and her breath starting to come out in shallow gasps. “It’s pathetic. I f-feel as if I’m in high school…I shouldn’t have—”

 

“Calm yourself and tell me.”

 

She swallowed hard and took a few deep breaths, unable to look at him until he instructed her to, which she found oddly comforting.

 

“You’ve been distant lately,” she said, even though she knew it wasn’t an excuse for her despicable actions. “I thought…maybe there was another woman…”

 

His heavy sigh silenced her, and she noticed some of the tension ease out of him. Settling on the coffee table, he threaded his hands together and stared at her, holding her gaze evenly.

 

“I can’t do this with multiple women,” Nash insisted. “This… thing that we do. It’s too tiring to do with multiple partners. Plus if I were sleeping with someone else, I would have gone back to using a condom.”

 

They’d stopped using a condom after they were each tested shortly after their sexual relationship began, and Eliza’s birth control was enough to cover them. She swallowed hard, her body shaking with a nervous excitement. “So…”

 

“It’s only you, Eliza,” he said softly, but he squashed the thrill of the moment when his voice hardened after his jaw clenched briefly. “But my personal business outside of our time together is none of your business. I ask that you respect my privacy.”

 

“Of course.” She nodded emphatically. “Of course! I’m so sorry. I still don’t know what came over me.”

 

“I’d almost expected something like this, actually,” Nash mused, his lips quirking up somewhat. “You’re a little green when it comes to…well, this kind of stuff. I was waiting for you to show your colors sometime.”

 

“Well—”

 

“But just because I expected something ridiculous like this to happen doesn’t mean I approve,” he continued, hard and angry again, his master-tone slipping back into play. “And it means you’ll be punished for your fucking insolence.”

 

Her stomach swirled with both anxiety and excitement, that is, until he stood and crossed over into the kitchen, coming back to the loveseat with one of her wooden cooking spoons in hand. She grimaced at the sight. Usually he used his hands…what could he possibly have in mind with that?

 

“Over the armrest,” he instructed. Her eyes darted down to his cock, hoping to see it erect and disappointed that it wasn’t. It would be by the end, but she hated herself for being wet at the thought of punishment. “Pants down and arch your ass up, slut.”

 

Eliza quickly did as she was told, not wanting to incite any more of his anger. Bare and exposed, she let out a startled squeal the first time he struck her.

 

“I want you to count them out loud,” he said coolly, the fiery sting of the wood making her ass smart. “If I can’t hear you, we’ll start again. Twenty hits for such a bad slut.”

 

Before she could say anything else, like how she deserved it but please not too hard, he struck her again, and she gave a pitiful cry before whimpering, “One…”