“Touch yourself,” he whispers in my ear. “Slide your fingers to your pussy and touch yourself.”
I’m over his knee getting spanked, so I quickly reason it’s not a great time to defy him again, and I’m dying for some relief. I quickly shove my fingers down my pants, wriggling to adjust myself, and groan when I finger my wet pussy.
One hand pushes on my lower back, holding me in place as I stroke, then another smack flares across my ass. My clit throbs, and my movements become more hurried, more insistent.
“Lose the pants,” he says in a hoarse whisper. “Fucking now.”
He’s tipped me up and is pulling them off even as I tug them down, and they quickly fall to the floor. He tosses me back over his lap.
“Touch yourself, but don’t you dare fucking come without permission.”
This time, I don’t give any thought to obeying him. I do exactly what he says, fingering myself while he rubs something hard and unyielding across the back of my thighs. I hardly feel it this time when he gives me another sharp flick with whatever he’s holding. I’m engulfed in sensation, throbbing for release, as he continues my punishment. Every smack of pain heightens my arousal, until I’m pulsing with need, on the edge of coming.
“On your knees, Vittoria.” Whatever he’s holding clatters to the floor. I wriggle off his lap and fall to my knees.
“I want to watch your eyes when you come.” His fingers wrap around my throat and flex. “Come, baby. Get yourself off for me.” The first spasm of pleasure jolts me. “Fuck,” he groans. “I want that dirty, greedy little cunt for myself.” My cheeks heat with his dirty talk, but I couldn’t stop myself now if I wanted to. I stroke with frantic movements, whimpering. He grips my throat to the point I can barely breathe, and I shatter.
“Oh God,” I groan, my orgasm wrecking me. “Oh God.”
“Come again, baby. Make that greedy little cunt happy. Work that pussy, Vittoria.” He squeezes my neck, and my vision blurs, my head too hot, but I do what he says until I slump, my face on his knee.
Slowly, he releases my neck and begins to stroke my hair.
“Good girl,” he says, as he drags his rough fingers through my hair. “Christ, that was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
I can’t talk. I can’t move. My ass is on fire, and he just made me bring myself to climax twice while he watched. My breasts are bared, my jeans around my ankles. I blink, as if waking from a dream.
“Get dressed, bella,” he whispers, as he rights me. “But hand me those panties.”
I stand with his help, still shaking. He takes the panties from my outstretched hand, shoves them to his nose, and inhales with a groan. Oh, God. My sex pulses just from watching him. With a labored sigh, he shoves them into his pocket, then drags me over to him. I stand between his knees, still dazed from what just happened. My eyes catch something broken and shattered on the floor. A hanger? He snapped the curved end off the hanger and whipped me with the flat.
“Did you really just whip me with a hanger?”
His lips curve up darkly. “I’d hardly call that a whipping. I spanked you to orgasm.” He pulls a lock of my hair. “You complaining?”
I swallow and don’t respond.
Am I?
“Go with my sisters. They’re taking you shopping. You have no budget.”
I blink, then blink again.
“Tomorrow, I want to see what you bought.” He frowns, looking in the distance. “Today, I’ll deal with the people who attacked us. I’ve got business to do and probably won’t be home tonight.”
Why does that make my heart sink into my shoes?
I swallow and nod. I don’t want to leave him. He’s hard as nails. He’s a goddamn beast, but I don’t like being apart from him.
I was in danger the other night, and he killed my attacker. Today I was in danger again, and he flattened me under his body, prepared to take a bullet for me.
When I’m with him, I’m safe… from anything and everything but him.
Chapter Ten
“One fire burns out another's burning,
One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish.”
Romeo and Juliet
Romeo
Orlando does his work well. By the time we’re done interrogating, we’ve got a bloody pulp of a man crying like a baby on the dungeon floor, begging for us to end it. We know where he’s come from and we know why. Took all goddamn day before he stopped breathing.
Blowback from a trade gone sour last month. Easily dealt with. No one comes straight at our house like that, though. Restaurants, maybe. Cars, definitely. But straight to The Castle takes fucking balls.
Marialena calls me around dinnertime.
“Jesus, Rome, twelve texts? Are you insane?”
“You were supposed to fill me in at lunchtime.”